Page 83 of An Honorable Deception
Lavinia opened her eyes. She couldn’t see the audience either, not yet, but she wanted them to see her.
Some of them would know her. Too many. They would see, as they looked more closely, who she was.
“Is that what this drama is about?” His voice was closer now, though his steps were unsure. “You learned about the Empire House? You don’t need to fear that. You know very well I wouldn’t put you there. What have I always told you? You are mine, no one else’s, even if I’ve let Samira stand in for you.” A few more steps, more decisive. “And I don’t much appreciate you flaunting yourself in public with that self-righteous prat of a duke’s son. What do you think to gain from that alliance? Do you think to tell him?Confessto him? Aboutus?”
A shiver coursed up Lavinia’s spine. He was close now. Nearly close enough. A lunge, and he could grab her.
Close enough that he’d realize that her voice wasn’t coming fromher. But they didn’t need him to stay convincedmuch longer. One moment more. Only one. Because Alethia had one more line.
“Samira, step onto the redX!”
They’d counted on him releasing her by then, as he drew closer to Lavinia, or at least to have loosened his grip enough that Samira could dive away. They’d trusted that the alarm in Alethia’s voice would trigger Samira’s instincts to do what would keep them both safe. That she would obey, and she’d do it quickly. That she would see the redXapplied to the floor and get herself to it within seconds.
If not, then Babcock was on a collision course with Yates.
She heard the movement from behind her. The squeak as Yates swung down on the trapeze he’d secured to the ceiling. The undeniable gasps and shouts of the crowd as he arced across the stage too quickly for them to see more than his black clothing and mask, scoop Samira up on his way down, and then take her back with him to the other side.
Lavinia glanced up and to the left for a second. Long enough to see Yates land on a catwalk with the easy grace of a monkey, Samira held securely in one arm.Thank you, Lord.Then she faced forward again.
Babcock was no doubt stunned, but he reacted as they’d assumed he would. He didn’t spin and run away from the unexpected snatching of his bargaining piece. He surged forward. His fingers curled around her arm.
This—this was why Alethia couldn’t be here. She should never have to face this man again. Never feel his bruising hands on her, even for a moment. It made Lavinia’s stomach flip, too, but not like her friend’s would have done.
Visibly, she made no reaction. Mentally, she breathed one more prayer for the Lord’s hand to guide her, to open her lips.
Love lives only by sacrifice.That was the truth she’ddecided to wear as her mask. That was where her strength must come from.
Babcock jerked her arm, trying to make her turn to face him. She kept her feet planted, but she granted him a turn of her head. Slowly. Deliberately. Very aware of the eyes on them. More, of the image she was creating for them.
Marigold had built her public persona with feathers and beads, hats and gowns, with silence and style that allowed her to move invisibly because no one looked beyond the fashions to see her face. Lavinia would build hers from strength and mystique, public championing and private work. She would make herself a force to be reckoned with. A name to be sought when one needed aid—and to be feared to those causing the pain. She was done fading into the shadows of her own suffering and grief. Done fearing that she could trust no one, even herself. She would trust God. She would trust the family that had chosen her. She would make sure others could trusther.
And it started today. Now. This minute.
She locked eyes with the startled man and delivered her first line. “I invite you to take your hands off me, Lord Babcock. I am not a helpless child for you to attack.” She projected her voice out into the crowd, like Neville and Clementina had taught them to do when they were children. She knew well the actors were in the wings, mouthing her lines with her and making certain the theatrical equipment was functioning properly.
Babcock released her arm as if it had burned him, his face a knot of fury and confusion. He would recognize her, even if he couldn’t readily find a name to put to her face. She recognizedhim. A familiar face in crowded ballrooms.
“What’s the meaning of this? Where’s my niece?”
Lavinia gave him a cool smile. “With that self-righteousprat of a duke’s son, of course.” A bit of improvisation there, but she thought Neville would approve. Yates was no doubt grinning as he delivered Samira to Merritt and made his way below-stage.
But time to get back on script. “She sends her regrets. Shedidwish she could be here to witness your collision with heavenly justice, but her mother wouldn’t hear of it. Not since she learned exactly what you are.”
He scoffed a laugh. “My sister? She’s too stupid to have put together more than an afternoon tea.”
“Your sister is clever as a snake.” She took the shawl from her shoulders slowly, gracefully. She let the fabric twirl like a ribbon and then tossed it at him. “Her only uncertainty was whether her husband knew her brother had threatened her daughter’s innocence, whether he would protect or harm her—hence why she kept Alethia from you both from the moment you returned to England. But she knows now. We all know—we know that you meant to steal the innocence of your six-year-old niece and only stopped because her ayah offered herself in her stead. We know what you intended time and again. The things you said to her. The bruises you gave her. How you skewed every supposedly innocent, familial touch. We know how sick and wretched you are.”
“What? Reu—what have youdone?”
They’d known, when they delivered Barremore his invitation, that he wouldn’t be a silent member of the audience. They’d mitigated it by seating him up in one of the boxes, as they’d meant to do for Rheams and the others, had they shown up. He could shout, but he couldn’t put a halt to the show. Not given the fact that they’d barred the doors behind him and had a few thieves only too happy for an excuse to tackle him, should he break through.
“Bar?” Now Babcock began to look worried. He spuntoward the audience, shielding his eyes from the blinding spotlight and trying to squint through it.
Lavinia let loose her rehearsed laugh. “You don’t think this whole show is foryou, do you? My, what arrogance, my lord. Though do keep your seat, Lord Barremore. The show has only begun.”
“Show.” Babcock edged backward a step, balling the pashmina in a fist and tossing it to the ground.
“No, no, my lord. Not that way. Your mark is here.” She pointed to anotherXon the stage floor, this one in blue. He wouldn’t move toward it, not like Samira had. Hence the myriad clicks that echoed from around the theater. The unmistakable sound of pistols cocking. “Do take your place. Those aren’t stage props.”
