Chapter 79
The day of the event arrived.
I was adorned in a thin, alluring gown of deep blue silk, elegantly cut and altogether scandalous. Kyle wore a fitted suit in matching blue. His smile stretched from ear to ear. I, on the other hand, lacked even the strength to pretend delight. Not a smile. Not a glimmer of pretense.
Even the simple act of taking his arm as we approached the avenue felt uncomfortable.
"Look at us, my love!" Kyle exclaimed, far too loudly. "Finally goin' out again! We oughta do this more often, eh? D'you think we'll get more invitations? I wanna go with you!"
His voice rang out like a town crier, drawing the attention of several nearby nobles as we joined the slow procession of guests making their way to the theatre.
"Your Ladyship!" a voice called out. "A fine surprise to finally see you attending an event!"
I turned toward the voice, squinting.
Who in heaven's name was that?
"That is Viscount Darlington," Laura whispered smoothly at my side, dressed in a resplendent yellow gown. "My Lady, are you face-blind?"
"I am not," I muttered. "I simply have no inclination to remember people I do not care for. Laura, I am wounded by your accusation."
She laughed lightly.
We reached the entrance and were promptly directed to sign our names and soon we were led to our private theatre box overlooking the stage.
The auction was to be held here, within the walls of an old theatre turned aristocratic playground.
Kyle could barely contain himself. He moved with the glee of a child, wandering to and fro, leaning eagerly over the railing to marvel at the crowd below.
Laura and I, however, remained seated. Silent. Still.
The theatre filled quickly, the pit occupied by those unfortunate enough not to secure a private room. Nobles, merchants, social-climbing vermin - the usual cast.
The lights dimmed, and a single spotlight bathed the stage in harsh glow. At its center, a long table stood with an object hidden beneath a swath of red silk.
"Good evening, fine ladies and gentlemen!" boomed a voice from the stage, loud enough to startle, theatrical enough to annoy. How anyone could project their voice in such a barbaric fashion remained a mystery to me.
He continued to speak. Something about the opening item, the charities, the importance of generosity. Predictable drivel.
Kyle would not cease squirming in his seat. The man fidgeted like a flea-ridden dog, elbowing me in his enthusiasm every few moments. Each time he leaned in, I inched closer to Laura as if her presence might shield me from his incessant breathing. The scent of his breath gnawed at my nerves.
When his breath tickled my cheek once more, I nearly snapped.
"I require air," I declared abruptly, rising to my feet.
Yet Kyle sprang up as though he had been awaiting the moment all evening. "I'll come too!"
I turned, frost coating my voice. "Alone."
Without granting him a glance more, I strode out of the private chamber, each step a desperate bid to reclaim my sanity. The air outside was warm, but I welcomed it as though it were a balm to my bruised soul.
And then I saw her.
Millicent stood beneath the moonlight, alone. Her gaze was cast heavenward, her expression distant, desolate.
Before I could think better of it, I abandoned all reason and closed the distance. I seized her arm and dragged her with me into a narrow alleyway, hidden from view.
I needed her near.
To hell with Kyle. To hell with marriage, with duty, with every bloody whisper of propriety. I wanted this woman. I wanted her more than I wanted breath in my lungs.
We stood in silence. I could hear my heartbeat in my ears. My cane dug into my palm, every emotion I could not voice pouring into my grip as if pain could make sense of it all. The moonlight spilled faintly across her face, catching the shimmer in her crimson eyes. I knew that look. I wore it too.
Still, I waited. I wanted her to say it first. Tell me she missed me. Tell me she wanted me. Tell me to leave that man and come home to her.
But when her lips parted, they did not utter the salvation I craved.
"I must extend my sincerest apologies for my conduct that night. It was a lapse in judgment I shall not repeat. I am well aware of your marital obligations, and I beg you, do pardon my impropriety."
Her voice was low, penitent. Her words, careful. Yet her lips trembled as though the very act of speaking those words defied her will.
No.
No, damn it all. She thought I regretted it. She thought I had chosen Kyle over her. I should have turned back. I should have torn myself from Kyle's grasp that very morning and held her in my arms. I should have screamed the truth then.
But I did not.
And now her apology tasted like poison in my mouth.
She misunderstood.
I could not permit her to remain in that cruel illusion. Not anymore. I parted my lips, ready to speak, to unravel the truth that burned at the edge of my throat.
But she beat me to it.
"I am to be wed to Prince Kaldric of Zalvanica," she murmured, her voice a breath above silence, yet it struck like thunder. "You need not concern yourself with me interfering in your married life."
My breath halted. The world tilted.
"We held our engagement privately last week," she continued. "Our wedding shall be held next month."
Her lips trembled with the effort not to weep. Those exquisite crimson eyes brimmed with tears.
I could hardly hear beyond the roaring in my ears. The gossip from Zalvanica, the ones I had scoffed at, the whispers that Millicent and the prince were courting rushed back like phantoms to mock me.
And then something… shifted.
It surged, feral and unfamiliar, boiling beneath my skin. Possessiveness? Desperation? Madness?
I do not know what it was, only that it seized me wholly.
My cane fell from my hand, clattering upon the stone. The echo of it was distant as I stepped forward and seized her. I forced her back, her spine brushing the wall behind, her eyes filled with confusion. I scarcely cared.
"You are mine," I hissed. My voice was venom and fire, my breath shallow with rage. "How dare you, how dare you even entertain the notion of swordplay with another man."
I reached for the back of her head, fingers threading through her silken hair, and pulled her to me, pressing my lips against hers.