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on the periphery of a group of ladies who were all wearing the same red dress as Emma. He seemed
to sense her gaze for he glanced upward toward the balcony and made a stiff little bow in her
direction.
It seemed to be going well enough from what she could tell. He wouldn’t try to dance, of
course. When the music began, it was a signal that the performers had a few minutes to warm up
before the rehearsal. Tom and Emma had agreed they would find each other at the sound of the first
note from the pianist, grandly parade to the center of the floor, and that Tom would pretend to roll an
ankle almost immediately. Since their feet and legs were their livelihood, the dancers took even the
slightest injury seriously. No one would be surprised if Konstantin quickly retreated to his room to
pack his sore ankle in ice.
After all, this was merely the dress rehearsal. The rehearsal for the dancers and for the
forensics team as well. If there were truly danger on the horizon, it was unlikely to come to fruition
until tomorrow night, when the theater would be packed with an audience full of aristocrats. Tonight
was the team’s chance to get a sense of how the performers moved around the ballroom, where any
lulls or points of drama were likely to occur in the program. Tomorrow they would be back in their
places with more information, and the palace police in full force as well.
Emma gave a final quick look around the room before pushing to her feet. The costumes and
matching dresses made it a little harder to tell, but she had not so far seen anyone whom she could not
identify as one of the dancers, musicians, or performers. There were a few workmen adding last
minute touches to the four theatrical sets in the corners and it struck her that this might be an easy way
to gain access to the theater. Props were being carried in, while tools and pails of paint were being
carried out, and around the cottage set were piled a virtual wall of burlap bags, evidently holding soil
in which someone would plant flowers. But Trevor had noticed all this as well. He was leaning
against the gilded doorframe of the entrance he was guarding, his eyes flickering from one set to
another.
The musicians had entered. The pianist was seated, sifting through his papers. Emma turned to
head downstairs and – despite the fact nothing was likely to happen tonight, despite the fact this was
little more than practice – her heart was pounding. She must hurry. She must guarantee that she
would be the first of Konstantin’s partners to reach Tom’s side. Because, God knows, they couldn’t
let him try to dance.