Page 34 of Married By Scandal

Rage burns my blood, heating it to a boiling point until I feel flames lace my palms. It takes all my restraint to keep my fire at bay, to force my flames to recede before they can char my gloves.

Dante, finding me no longer holding his arm, returns to me. Standing between me and Mr. Farris to block the reporter from view, he whispers low, “Amelie, ignore him—”

“Ah, Miss Abercrombie! Over here!”

I freeze at the sound of the name on Mr. Farris’ lips, but even more so at the feminine voice that answers, “Oh, hello!”

Wasting no time, Mr. Farris asks, “Miss Abercrombie, were you aware that Prince Albert was engaged to Miss Fairfield when you dined with him the evening of the twenty-second?”

My heart rages as a flush of heat crawls up my neck. This time, it’s more than just anger that has me so discomposed. Now that the actress has approached Mr. Farris, all eyes are on us.

Holly Abercrombie pulls up short, her head swinging to the side where she finds Dante. Her eyes go wide at finding him there, but she doesn’t bother sparing a glance at me. I don’t miss the subtle nod he gives her.

In a flash, a coy smile takes over Miss Abercrombie’s perfect face. She flutters her lashes at the reporter, then gives Dante’s shoulder an affectionate pat. “He and I have been acquainted for many, many years. We are good friends. Any encounters we’ve had since I arrived in Faerwyvae have been strictly platonic.”

Her words do nothing to cool my inner fire. She didn’t deny having dined with him. Instead, she basically admitted Mr. Farris’ intel is accurate.

“Sources say the two of you were caught acting more than platonic,” Mr. Farris says.

She gives a flippant wave of her hand. “Sources, as you say, love to exaggerate. Thank you so much for the interview, but I really must be heading backstage.” With a placid smile, she gracefully exits the interview and brushes by, pausing only to offer Dante a curtsy and me a respectful nod.

Meanwhile, I can manage nothing more than a clenching of my teeth. Dante places his hand at my lower back, but I flinch away from his touch. My lungs grow tighter by the second while my head spins, reeling in the wake of Dante’s dishonesty, the reporter’s callous questions, the attention of those nearby still fixated on us. And—strangely—perhaps a pinch of fiery hot jealousy.

Dante takes my hand in his, weaving our fingers tightly together as he guides me away from Mr. Farris. As much as I want to wrench my hand away, I know we need to keep up appearances. Or do we? Was everything I’ve been working for just smashed to smithereens? I’m too flustered to think clearly, to analyze how much damage was just done to my reputation. To my upcoming marriage and the façade of love we were supposed to maintain.

It’shisfault. Dante did this. He ruined everything.

A sob builds in my chest, and I stumble over my shoes.

Dante pauses to help me right myself. “Amelie…” My whispered name carries some strangled emotion I can’t identify.

Just as I manage to lift my chin and take a steady step, Mr. Farris’ too-loud voice calls out from behind me. “Miss Fairfield, how do you feel knowing your fiancé is on such familiar terms with a beautiful actress?”

Dante squeezes my fingers. “Pay him no heed,” he mutters through his teeth. “I’ll explain—”

“Does it not bother you because of your own recent scandal? Are you aware that the Vances are getting a divorce? Do you think you might be the cause? Do you consider yourself a homewrecker?”

Before I realize what’s happening, Dante releases my hand and bolts behind me. I whirl to find him standing before Mr. Farris, one hand clamped around the man’s cravat, the other holding the length of his cane against the reporter’s throat. Dante’s voice comes out low and deadly. “Watch your mouth when speaking about my fiancé if you value your tongue. Otherwise, I’ll cut it out of your throat.”

Silence echoes in the wake of Dante’s threat. Sweat beads at my brow as I realize it isn’t just those nearby who are staring.Everyoneis looking at us. Including—much to my horror—Mrs. Vance. Her lips are curled in a wicked grin, revealing just how much she’s relishing the spectacle.

I rush over to Dante and tug the sleeve of his jacket. “Albert,” I hiss, infusing my tone with the reminder of who he’s supposed to be right now—a cowardly, roguish prince, not a violent spy.

Dante’s shoulders tremble as he maintains hold on the reporter. Mr. Farris’ face has gone as white as a sheet. I utter the prince’s name again, which finally gets through to him. With a long, heavy sigh, he releases the man and dons a toothy smile that is far more menacing than kind. With more force than necessary, he straightens Mr. Farris’ cravat, eyes locked on his. “Are we clear?”

The reporter’s throat bobs before he dips his chin in an unsteady nod.

Dante returns to me, but I can’t look him in the eye. Emotions war within me—anger, envy, embarrassment, gratitude. The latter is the most out of place. I shouldn’t feel grateful Dante threatened a man on my behalf. Not after what he did. Not after he lied to me so he could be with someone else.

Flames lick my palms again, and this time, I don’t think I can smother them. Already, I feel my silk gloves beginning to singe. Without a second thought, I lift the hem of my skirt and flee.

17

It occurs to me, as I flee the red carpet, that I’m going the wrong way. If I wanted out of the theater, I should have left in the opposite direction from where I’m going now. But that would have forced me past all those judging eyes, all those rows and rows of photographers and reporters. I would have had to make a shameful walk back up the staircase, spoiling my elegant entrance. Not that my graceful first impression matters now. Everything is ruined.

Ruined.

I dart into the auditorium, where the seats have begun to fill with those who’ve finished their interviews. A few faces turn my way, alerted by my frantic pace. I know I should slow down, settle my composure, and try to make less of a scene, but with rage still searing my blood—and heating my palms with tiny flames—my foremost priority is to get somewhere private first. If I don’t, fire will erupt from my every pore, and everyone will see it.

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