Above the din of the music and conversation he could hear the battle-axe’s voice. It was husky, harsh, and full of authority. The kind of vocal pattern which could only develop over years of constant ordering about and belittling of lesser beings. Lying on the floor, even though it would completely ruin his jacket, still seemed the best way to pass the evening. It would be worth his valet’s wrath.
As soon as Lisbeth heard her grandmother’s voice, her legs faltered and refused to move another step. They mirrored her feelings exactly. She did not want to be here. Her heart seemed to be hiding down somewhere near her liver, quivering with anxiety. She wanted to turn and run out of this house as fast as she could. Pretend she had not accepted her grandmother’s surprise summons.
It was far too late to turn and run, and besides, she had not done anything wrong. It was notshewho had abandoned her own flesh and blood. Her grandmother had turned her back on her when Lisbeth needed her most. Disowned her, thrust her from her life like an unwanted burden, without even bothering to ask if the rumors were true. She had simply chosen not to acknowledge her as her granddaughter. It had been a hard lesson to learn. Lisbeth had tried several times to contact her grandmother for support during those early days but had been denied at every turn. It had stupefied her. Did her grandmother actually think her capable of murder? The dawning of this realization had made her weep with a shame she had no reason to feel.
Lisbeth had grieved for the loss of her family, defeat colliding with hopelessness in an all-consuming terror. Had she really lost them? Lost them all?
When she thought of the tears she’d shed, the pain she’d felt, the days she’d spent waiting to wake from the nightmare of her life, the old anger welled up inside her and threatened to choke her. However, Lisbeth was no longer that weak woman who had hoped and prayed they would come to realize their error and come back into her life and want to love her again.
If her grandmother now wanted to repair the ties she had so viciously severed, she would have to beg for her forgiveness on her knees before Lisbeth would even consider such a thing. Even if she could forgive, she would never forget.
“Are you all right?”
Bellamy. She’d forgotten about him. She closed her eyes for a moment, fearing he would see, from her tears, the torment she was suffering and realize how close she was to teetering over the edge.
“Of course.” She took a deep breath. A sob rose in her throat. Panic took over. Her whole being began to shake.
I can’t do this.
No! She was not going to collapse and make a fool of herself.
Not here. Not now.
Damn her. Damn her. Damn her.
Behind her she heard, “Perhaps you should have a drink first. Lord knows I could do with one.”
She felt Oliver’s hand curl around her elbow, warm, strong, supportive. She could see nothing in front of her as he led her to the side of the room, to a shadowed corner where he could shield her from the inquisitive eyes of the other guests in the room. He handed her a drink and guided it up to her lips.
“Drink,” he commanded softly.
She obeyed and choked on the strong liquor as it burned a trail down her throat. “What in God’s name was that vile concoction?”
He steadied her and took the glass away, searching her face. “Trust me, you don’t want to know. Feel better?”
He always seemed to make her feel too many emotions, too often. In any other circumstance she would have resented his actions. This time, however, he made her feel protected. Safe. Something she hadn’t felt for a long time. She nodded.
“Good,” he said. “You were as pale as a ghost, and I couldn’t have you swooning on me.”
Lisbeth looked up as he adjusted a small curl, tucking it behind her ear. His eyes held concern. Concern for her? Surely not. And yet, somewhere in the chocolate depths of his eyes she saw a flicker of something else too. Compassion? Pity? She couldn’t bear to look any further in case she saw something worse than pity in his gaze.
“I’m not practiced in the art of dealing with fainting females, you see,” he said in a soft whisper.
She looked at him and his ridiculous sideways grin. Lord help her, but she wanted to kiss him. Kiss his lips and pretend nothing else existed. Kiss him and let him kiss her, let him take her away from this place, both body and mind. She realized she was staring at his lips when she felt a finger under her chin and her eyes rose once again to his. They were warm, brown, and steady in their regard.
“Do not let her best you. You are the Black Raven,” he said. “Act like it.” Then he turned her back towards the room.
He was right. She was the Black Raven. She was the woman who turned young men gray overnight and made children eat green vegetables. The woman who made people cross themselves as they crossed the street. Lisbeth would forever begrateful to him for reminding her to play the part she had been given.
He offered her his arm. “I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Shaking her head she said, “I won’t need you. There is no reason why you should be hauled into this any more than you already have. In any case, I daresay this won’t take long.”
“As you wish, my lady,” he replied. “I am sure Venus and I shall get along famously until you return. Although, I must admit, she does not look much of a conversationalist,”
Lisbeth nodded her thanks, flung her shoulders back, tilted her chin up, and walked off in the direction of Lady Fortesque.
Her grandmother was a woman of considerable age, but even so Lisbeth was shocked when she saw her. She had lost weight, and her hair had turned completely white. Her skin seemed paper-thin and fragile. It was inconceivable. She couldn’t imagine her grandmother ever being fragile. Her eyes were the only thing that seemed not to have changed. They now narrowed on her and Lisbeth took a breath and held it as she took the last few paces to put herself in front of the woman. She curtseyed, more out of habit than politeness.
