“Bless my card with a kiss, Lady Mystery?” an unknown gentleman said.
Tristan stepped closer to her. “She will not,” he said menacingly.
“Deuced unsavory, Philips,” Sir Elliott chastised him. “Mind your manners. We’ve a fairy queen in our midst.”
“Forgive me. I was only hoping for a bit of luck.”
“I forgive you,” Felicity said. She touched his cards instead. “Luck bestowed. Carry on, sir.”
The crowd cheered. Mr. Philips did indeed win his hand and a handsome pile of tokens. The next hour Felicity spent touching everyone’s cards, and it did seem to be a favorable night for most of the players. Thus, she was no longer Lady Mystery but deemed to be Lady Luck. Sir Elliot was always respectful and added a theatrical flavor to the evening, which Felicity could tell annoyed Tristan.
All night he stayed hidden behind her, stepping back into shadowy areas but never far away. Whenever she needed to reassure herself, she’d look for him, and he was there, arms folded, scowling until he caught her eye, and he’d give her a nod. As time wore on, the crowd thickened. Passing tables became a game of stop and go. Bodies pressed closer. The men grew louder and livelier. Felicity had to stand closer to Sir Elliot than she liked as the men parted for him, eyeing her as they passed. These men were younger, their gazes heavier with interest. Their focus wandered over her body, her breasts, and her waist. She’d abandoned her cloak, which now rested over Tristan’sarm, but despite the warmth of the room, she wanted it back. She wanted to be covered.
“Is this the infamous Lady Luck?” A man approached, shouldering past protesting men.
“I don’t know you, sir,” Felicity said.
“I’ve been hearing about you all night. An exquisite vision in green and gold. The rumors weren’t exaggerated.”
“Th-thank you, sir.”
Sir Elliot leaned closer, his cologne a mixture of sweet and salty she didn’t find pleasant. In fact, the whole room had begun to smell like too many scents mixed together.
“Do you wish an introduction, my lady?”
No. Could she say no?
“Maybe she’ll blow on your cards,” another man said, and the gentlemen chuckled around her. Felicity glanced around, but she couldn’t see Tristan. The floor had become so crowded. Where was he?
“She won’t,” Sir Elliot said, his tone firmer than he’d been all night. Felicity clung tighter to his arm. She wasn’t alone.
Robust cheering erupted from another table, followed by curses, and that seemed to distract the men around her.
“I think I’m ready to leave—”
Someone grabbed her free elbow. Felicity shifted, relieved that Tristan had reached her. He’d help her escape. But when she turned, it was not Tristan holding her arm. The unknown man who’d been denied an introduction leaned close to her, his hand drifting down to her hip and around her back.
“However much Elliot is paying you for your company, I can pay more.”
The sweltering room disappeared as her vision narrowed to this one man with blond hair, styled in waves, and green eyes. Chadwick. She was looking up at Chadwick. No. He couldn’t be here. Icy terrorslithered over her body and yet she began to sweat. Felicity blinked rapidly as ringing filled her ears.
He cocked his head, and though she wanted nothing more than to run from him, her head cleared enough to see that this man was not Chadwick. Aside from the similarity of blond hair and green eyes, Chadwick was shorter and heavier in build.
“Please, sir.”
He smiled, the effect like slime on her tongue. “Please? You want me to steal you away from Elliot?” His hand drifted lower. “It would be my—”
He straightened, his demeanor changing as his face twisted in pain, and the hand on her rear was gone. He then bent forward, and there Tristan was, holding his wrist in a twist.
“Touch her again and see what I’ll do.”
“She’s just a—”
“Don’t say another word,” Tristan said, his tone filled with lethal darkness.
The room had stopped. Felicity couldn’t hear beyond the pounding of her heart. Every eye was now centered on them.
“Mr. Chase, it is a simple misunderstanding,” Sir Elliot said. “Let him go.”
