When Lillian spoke that word, her crimson eyes suddenly looked straight at him! The fervor and longing within them were like flames, burning her soul.
At that moment, she saw no nobility, rank, or status, only an obsession with dance itself.
She wanted to dance, not to please anyone, but for the fire within her own heart.
"How could I refuse?"
Elliot clapped his hands, and the servants, like well-trained ghosts, swiftly and silently removed the tables and chairs from the hall.
Several footmen worked together to unfurl a heavy, exquisite crimson carpet. Conrad stepped forward himself and flung his arms up-the carpet spread across the center of the drawing room like flowing blood!
A group of musicians who had long been waiting filed in, silently taking their places along the wall.
Without preparation or requests, Lillian stepped onto the red carpet in her elaborate, magnificent gown.
She was even wearing high heels.
Elliot's gaze settled on her.
Lillian's expression abruptly changed, becoming solemn and reverent. She bowed deeply to the hall, as though standing on a theater stage with countless eyes upon her.
The entire mansion fell into breathless silence.
The conductor of the nearby ensemble looked at her inquiringly, as though asking what piece she wanted.
But Lillian looked at no one.
Suddenly, she gave a soft laugh.
Elliot felt as though his heart had skipped a beat. He seemed to be not in his own mansion, but in an empty theater.
On the stage, a dancer whose face he could not make out slowly stretched her body.
Lillian's dance began with her smile.
She gently turned her body, and the stage seemed to turn with her. She turned her head to look his way, and the whole world seemed to freeze. When sorrow appeared on her face,