Page 10 of A Vocation of Violence
I fought the urge to explain my presence in Jorah’s room.
In his arms.
But then I firmly reminded myself that Night Horse liked to make me uncomfortable on purpose because the blighter knew that I was chatty when nervous. Probably more than anyone. Because I was nevernotnervous in his presence.
“I hadn’t prepared for society,” I murmured over my shoulder. He seemed to understand that there were some people who could only stand the company of others for a finite amount of time.
It was something we had in common, I thought.
“Maybe tonight, instead of chasing death, Fiona Mahoney finallylives,” he whispered, leaning close enough that I could feel his breath against my ear.
His words, meant to comfort, felt more like a sentence. And as the clock struck the hour, signaling the inexorable march toward midnight, I knew there would be no turning back.
“Tonight,” I echoed, my resolve hardening. “Tonight, I live.”
I’d no idea that in order for me to do so, someone would have to die.
Chapter Three
Ifound it easiest to disappear in a room full of people.
But I learned Vivienne Bloomfield-Smythe didn’t own a dress capable of blending in.
The emerald gown she’d selected suited my complexion moderately well, and Vivienne had said it lit my hair like a sunset. There hadn’t been the time to do much else with my hair, but she had her maid, Claudia, adorn the simple chignon with glittering glass pins that twinkled like stars.
“Come now, Claudia, do try to keep up.” Vivienne’s tone, once smooth as the finest claret, now cut through the hallway with a sharpness bordering on shrill. “Once you’ve arranged my train for my ovation, I need you to slink to the table and make certain I’m not seated next to anyone dreary, unattractive, or boorish.”
“Yes, mistress.” Claudia scuttled behind us as if tethered to the train that sashayed with each of Vivienne’s steps.
The bon vivant leaned over to murmur in my ear, “That will keep the simple creature out of sight for a while. She does fray my nerves with her hovering before long.”
I directed a frown at her, wondering why I felt the need to be careful with my words in her company.
Vivienne was a vision; not even the candlelight could compete with the incandescence of her beauty. It wasn’t just her looks that made her the cynosure of all eyes, but the dangerous glimmer of something untamed in her gaze. If I was to be kind, I’d say it was a wildness…but if I were honest, it spoke of a hint of malice beneath the charm.
“Vivienne, you know she can’t rearrange a place sett—” I began, but Vivienne cut me off with a graceful wave of her hand, her bracelets chiming like the bells of a distant church.
“Really, Fiona, this is the Velvet Glove. I doubt Jorah will even notice, let alone mind.”
“In that case”—I glanced over my shoulder—“shouldn’t Claudia be allowed to attend?”
Vivienne’s lips curled into a smile that did not quite meet her eyes. “This night is for the upper echelons of society, not for those who lurk in the shadows of their betters.”
“I don’t consider anyone here any better than Claudia or I.” I could feel my Irish temper rising, readying for a verbal evisceration of someone who wouldn’t deem me capable of licking her boots had I not been in the arms of a wealthy, powerful man when she’d interrupted what had promised to be a pleasant evening.
I watched as Claudia’s expression crumpled, her devotion to Vivienne a fragile thing, too easily bruised. I knew that look, the pain of loyalty unappreciated, but there was also something else—a flicker of darkness that skittered across her features and vanished just as quickly.
Couldn’t say I blamed her.
As effervescent and generous as Vivienne had been in the short hours I’d known her, I’d learned she’d a vicious wit and an incapacity to care much for anything beyond her own whims.
“Yes, miss,” Claudia replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she retreated deeper into the curl of her shoulders.
I watched Claudia go, the unease coiling tighter in my gut. I knew what it was to be dismissed, to be seen as less than in the eyes of those who believed their birthright elevated them above common decency. But tonight, I pushed away the pity that threatened to rise, lest I ruin an old friend’s special evening.
I scanned the crowd, looking for Darcy.
“Chin up, Fiona,” Vivienne purred, looping her arm through mine. “The night is young, and there are secrets here ripe for the plucking—if one knows where to look.”
