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Beyond the central promenade, couples were dancing beneath the stone pavilion while the orchestra played a quick waltz. Servers moved through the crowd with silver trays of champagne, iced oysters, tiny cakes glazed to resemble pearls, and sugared violets.

Cora accepted a glass of champagne from a passing tray without slowing. “Where are the gambling tables? I suspect that’s where we’ll find him.”

I took a second glass and touched it to hers. “If we march directly there, we will look like investigators.”

“Or nouveau riche tourists who have a penchant for the tables,” she countered.

I led her toward the dancers anyway. She resisted for half a step, then followed when she realized the edge of the floor gave us a clear view of the path leading toward the gambling pavilions.

“I can’t dance. And I did not lose our wager.”

“All you have to do is let me lead you through a few steps.” She glowered at me when I placed one hand at her waist and took the other in mine. “It’s what everyone expects to see from a man who cannot keep his hands off the love of his life.”

Cora’s gaze flew to mine, and I felt her heart slamming against her chest. The words had come out of my mouth without any thought. But when I looked at Cora, it was like looking at the whole ocean.

“The disguise will be more convincing if you refrain from looking horrified,” I said, playing it off.

“Who’s horrified? I’m not horrified.”

I let out a chuckle. “You stopped breathing when I said, love. Can a husband not love his wife?”

She rolled her eyes. “Spare me the vampire lecture about my anatomy. We need to find Hartley.”

This woman was a tempest, but all storms had a center. If I could find hers—if she ever allowed me to navigate the dangerous waters around it—I would consider myself a lucky man.

We made our way to the gambling pavilion. Cora studied every face while I escorted her between the crowded tables. I recognized several members of my court, which made me grateful for the glamour.

Her steps slowed beside one of the gaming tables. “Is that…?” she began.

I followed her line of sight and found Renaud’s eldest son sitting at a table with four men twice his age. His pale blue coat hung over the back of his chair, and his shirt sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows. A small fortune in ivory counters towered in front of him.

“It appears so.”

“Does his father know he’s here?” she mouthed.

I shrugged. Renaud told me Caspien was spending the evening with several gentlemen from the court. I failed to ask where they were going.

One of Caspien’s opponents pushed a large wager into the center of the table. Caspien looked at his cards, pushed in all his counters. His opponent laid down his hand with a triumphant smile. Then Caspien laid down the winning hand.

The man swore. Caspien merely gathered his winnings.

Cora’s fingers suddenly dug into my arm, and she turned away from the tables, using my body to conceal herself.

“What is it?”

“Hartley,” she whispered. “He’s the attendant standing under the archway. Navy-blue jacket with a star on the pocket. Crutch. You can’t miss him.”

I casually checked my pocket watch before glancing over her shoulder. I searched for the man she described. My fangs lengthened when I spotted him leaning on his crutch, hawking the tables as if he was scoping out the next sucker to con a few coppers from. I tried to control the change, but it was impossible.

This man and all his audacity.

Hartley’s beady eyes swept across the pavilion and landed on us. The second he saw my fangs, he disappeared through the archway.

I could have sped through the gaming pavilion before Hartley took another step, but moving with vampiric speed would expose me to every member of my court, not to mention Caspien. The last thing I wanted was to add to the court gossip about Miss Ravenwood and me.

“Come on,” I said, tugging Cora’s arm.

We reached the archway that led to a service passage as the first firework screamed into the sky. Hartley emerged behind the western supper boxes and used the darkness between explosions to conceal himself. I tracked the strike of his crutch against the stones through the crowd, past a champagne fountain and a procession of dancers carrying silk scarves.