Page 3 of The Falconer

Catherine lets out an unladylike snort. ‘You’re the one who agreed to dance with him.’

I cast her a withering glance. ‘I’m not a complete boor. I won’t turn down a dance unless someone else has claimed it.’

Lord Hamilton stops before us. Today’s cravat has mauve, green and blue dye splashed in a strange pattern on the silk. Ever the gentleman, he smiles politely.

‘Good evening, Lady Aileana,’ he says, then nods at Catherine. ‘Miss Stewart, I trust you’re well.’

‘I am indeed, Lord Hamilton,’ she says. ‘And may I say, that is quite a . . .strikingcravat.’

Lord Hamilton peers down at it fondly, as though someone has complimented his greatest achievement. ‘Why, thank you. The dyes form the outline of a unicorn. Part of the Hamilton crest, you see.’

I blink. If anything, it resembles a sea creature of some kind.

Catherine, however, simply nods. ‘How wonderful. It suits you very well, I think.’

I remain silent. I’m so terribly out of practice with social niceties that I might actually tell him the mauve splashes look like tentacles.

The orchestra strikes a few more chords as couples move to the centre of the room and take their places for the dance.

Lord Hamilton extends his gloved hand. ‘May I have the pleasure?’

I place my fingers in his palm, and – hell and blast – he pats my wrist. I distinctly hear Catherine’s stifled giggle as she is led off by her own suitor. I glower at her over my shoulder as Lord Hamilton and I walk to the dance line. He deposits me at the end and stands across from me.

But just as the orchestra begins to play, an odd taste sweeps across my tongue from front to back. Like a volatile mixture of sulphur and ammonia, hot and burning as it trickles down the inside of my throat.

A vile swearword almost escapes my lips. There’s a faery here.

Chapter 2

Iclose my eyes and try to swallow the faery’s power. The chemical tang in my mouth is so sharp that I want to cast my accounts over the ballroom floor. Heaving once, I lose my footing and pitch forwards.

‘Oof!’ I careen into the lady nearest me. The wide skirts of our dresses collide and we almost topple onto the marble tiles. Just in time, I grip her shoulders to steady myself.

‘My apologies,’ I say, my voice hoarse.

I look up at the woman then. Miss Fairfax. She regards me with well-controlled mild distaste. My eyes dart to the other dancers. Many couples in the strathspey crane their heads to see the commotion. Though the jaunty music plays on, everyone –everyone– is staring at me.

Some of them whisper, and I catch their accusations again. Or I think I do.Murderess. She went mad. The marchioness’s death was—

I pull myself away from Miss Fairfax. It takes every ounce of effort to tamp down the memories that threaten to surface, to stay where I am and not run. I know what Father would say. He would tell me that I am the daughter of a marquess, and I am responsible for representing the family name at all times.

‘So sorry, Miss Fairfax. Lost the count,’ I say.

Miss Fairfax merely straightens her skirts, pats her mussed brunette hair and lifts her chin as she rejoins the dance.

‘Lady Aileana?’ Lord Hamilton says. He appears quite concerned. ‘Are you all right?’

I force a smile and speak without thinking. ‘I’m terribly sorry – I must have tripped.’

Oh, dash it all.I feel faint, I should have said. That would have been the perfect excuse to get up and leave. How could I be so stupid?

Too late now. Lord Hamilton simply smiles, grips my hand and guides me back to the line. I avoid the prying gazes of my peers and swallow down the last remnants of power on my tongue.

I have to find the blasted creature before it lures its victim. My instincts tell me to leave the dance, find the faery and slaughter it. I spare a glance towards the exit. Dash my reputation and the idiotic notion that a gentlewoman shouldn’t cross a ballroom – or leave it – unescorted.

I feel the dark part inside of me stir and rise, desperate to do only three things: hunt, mutilate, kill.

Oh, I want to, more than anything. The faery is nearby, just outside the ballroom. I step out of the strathspey and head towards the door. Lord Hamilton intercepts me and asks a question. I can’t hear it over the pounding need, my murderous thoughts.

---