Learning to Dance

was about to say something else, but then someone cleared
their throat directly behind her.
Taz turned, and found herself face to face with their
target.
“I’m truly sorry to interrupt,” he said, in a perfect
English accent. “But may I cut in?”
Does he know? was her first thought. She looked at Up,
who looked like he was having similar suspicions. The
sandy-haired man smiled disarmingly. “I was only hoping
to have a chance to dance with the most beautiful woman at
the ball – with her husband’s permission, of course,” he
added, nodding at Up.
Up looked very much like he wanted to say no. Taz put
her hand on his arm. “It’s fine, mi amor,” she said. “You
can share me for one dance.” This could be our chance to
get the information, she tried to tell him with her eyes.
He seemed to understand, and gestured his assent. Taz
watched him stalk across the floor and lean against the bar,
a sullen look on his face. The sandy-haired man held his
hand out to her. “Shall we dance, my lady?”
Taz was suddenly grateful for Madame LaViolet and her
relentless lessons because this man knew what he was
doing and it was all she could do to match him, keeping her
movements smooth and her face serene as they twirled
across the floor. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,
Mr-”
“Brown, Jasper Brown,” he said, although the lens in her
eye was telling her based on his retinal scan that it was
actually Goldstein, Leonhard Goldstein, a high-ranking
civilian G.L.E.E. employee. “And you must forgive my
fervour, Mrs. von Tuppington, but I’m quite intoxicated by
you. Your husband shouldn’t be so quick to give you away.”
Menudo desgraciado, thought Taz. What a creep. “You
flatter me, Mr. Brown.”