Supressing a sigh, Tomlin turned back to August with a forced smile. Her smile was a little more genuine but not exactly pleasant all the same, so self-satisfied.
But Tomlin’s own mouth slid into a smirk as he put his lion mask back into place and took his time with the ribbon in back. August showed her displeasure immediately, the smile fleeing her face as a swallow flees an ominous sky.
“Why do you hide your handsome face from me?” she teased, pouting.
“The masquerade is the thing, my dear. The mystery. The costumes. The magic.” And he found himself looking in the direction where Georgiana had spirited herself away.
“There are things more magical than frilly adornments and masks,” she cooed, running a gloved hand over his waistcoat. Moving with fluidity and grace he swept her into a dance, twirling with her for a few steps before stopping.
He whispered into her ear, “And there are things far more magical still than base debauchery.” And with that, he spun her away and took haste to Georgiana.