Really, just the one—Artemis.
And a man for a friend?
Thatman?
But…why notthatman?
Out of everyone populating this room, he was a person she could respect.
And he was helping her achieve what she wanted in life—a good, solid future.
Why not be his friend?
Who would suspect?
The spinster Lady Beatrix St. Vincent entered into an arrangement with Lord Devil?
Such a notion existed so far beyond the realm of possibility as to be delusion.
Yet this delusory notion wasn’t only possible, it was an appealing one, too. She’d become so accustomed to feeling alone—even viewing the world as a hostile place, at times—that thisnotion of friendship with someone who knew a few private truths about her held appeal.
Even as it should have inspired a healthy dollop of caution.
When she’d reached out to seal their arrangement and his fingers had closed around hers, she’d almost snatched it back. The warmth of his hand…the strength…the way it pulsed with life…
Deverill’s was the sort of vibrancy that was impossible to contain or control.
She would do well to remember as much.
The ringing of a small brass bell cut through the spiky buzz of the crowd. The music was set to begin henceforth, if everyone would take their seats.
Beatrix’s heart struck up a little dance against her ribs as she made her way down the central aisle. Typically at these affairs, she sat in the back—the better to observe all. But Deverill had instructed in his note that she take her place in the front row.
So, here she sat in her new finery, sweat-slick palms clasped tightly in her lap, gaze fixed straight ahead—the observed.
Tonight,she—Lady Beatrix St. Vincent, who had been dismissed as a spinster by all society—would create alittle sensationwith the man they called Lord Devil.
Once everyone had taken their seats—a small gathering of a hundred or so—the soprano recently arrived from Italy took her place beside the pianoforte. Gentle notes began flowing from the instrument, and she opened her mouth and produced the most heavenly sound Beatrix ever heard. Until this moment, she hadn’t been aware the human voice could be so transfixingly lovely.
Yet, even as her soul longed to be swept up and transported to Italy, she had an assignation tonight.
This lovely dress on her back…
It hadn’t yet been earned.
So, with subtle taps of her fingers, she kept time with the music and a tally of the seconds and minutes. Once ten minutes had ticked past, she inhaled a deep, bracing breath and stood—and attempted to tamp down mortification. All eyes were certainly on her and not the soprano, who was surely throwing eye daggers Beatrix’s way for intruding upon the brilliance of her performance.
Well, there was no help for it, as this was a key part of Deverill’s plan. The gathered would notice when Lady Beatrix excused herself.
So it was that she let the momentum of destiny carry her down the aisle.
The momentum of destiny?
Wasn’t she one for dramatics tonight?
The answer to that question was a resoundingyes.
In fact, she’d only gotten started.
