Already, the room was turning away, the whispers rising to discuss such a scandalous moment. The poor traumatized Thomas Grange.
“I know my own eyes, foul demon,” Thomas hissed, crushing my hand in his grip, his eyes wild as he began a stream of increasingly unhinged demands. “Somebody get me a stake! Better yet, a sword to cut off the demon’s head. Scatter his burned flesh to the four winds so that he will never walk this earth again!”
Maxwell and Ambrose struggled with him as I looked on with shock, genuinely concerned for him. I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes and I blinked them away. He’d stared at me as if I were the devil himself. A complete and utter monster. And he would be right.
More men joined in restraining Thomas, dragging him from the room as I rubbed my bruised hand. Ambrose sent an apologetic look back at me as he disappeared into the crowd amid a cacophony of excited murmuring.
“I’m so sorry, dear,” Flora said, suddenly at my side. “I’m so embarrassed for his behavior.”
I couldn’t speak at first, fearing my voice would tremble. I took several calming breaths to rein in the panic that was overwhelming me. His frenzy had been the result of an encounter with me. What had I been doing all these years? What right had I had? I had thought Konstantin overly cruel, and yet … I had been just as bad.
I swallowed past a lump. “I understand all too well the demons that haunt him. They make him feel unsafe everywhere he goes, I imagine. Please, don’t think too harshly of him.”
Flora patted my hand. “Come, don’t fret over it. He’ll get the help he needs. I’m afraid the night is spoiled, but perhaps we can salvage something of it yet.” She gestured to the musician who’d stopped as the drama had begun, and “La Boulangere” began. People stepped out of the way as I began to dance with her, other couples joining in until a circle was formed.
The gaiety resumed, but I feared the incident was never far from anyone’s mind. My heart certainly wasn’t in the festivities. I kept conjuring up Thomas’s haunted eyes.
One good thing may have come from the confrontation: Any association with vampires had been thrown from me. It hadn’t hurt that the shock was still fresh in Thomas’s mind and he’d reacted so poorly. Nobody stared at me, wondering if the man’s accusations were true. I was human. There was irreputable proof of that. In the face of those facts, no one could continue to indulge his ranting and raving.
But it had been a close call. Far too close. I had to remember that I wasn’t invulnerable anymore. If this room had transformed into a mob, I would have been at their mercy. I would be dead. Humans were dangerous and the longer this game was drawn out, the better the chances of me being found out.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
When I’d thoroughly exhausted myself dancing, I downed a glass of champagne in one gulp. I was flushed and too warm as I watched the elegant dancers parade across the floor.
“I’m surprised Thomas didn’t accuse me of being a vampire,” Cecelia said, joining me.
I smiled tightly. “Yes, well, I gather it was a man who held him captive. A strikingly handsome man.”
Cecelia snorted, and we observed the seamless procession of gowns and suits for a minute.
“I apologize for my rudeness earlier,” I said.
She shrugged. “I’m not apologizing for choosing you to play after me.”
I chuckled. “Fair enough.”
Cecelia placed a hand on my arm. “Come. Let’s get some air.”
I nodded, allowing her to guide me out onto a patio. The night was still around us as the glow of the ballroom warmed our backs. I leaned against a low wall and sighed, feeling the tension that had been building in me all night melt away into the shadows.
“This world is a lot,” Cecelia said. “There are so many obligations. Dances, dinners, callers.” She glanced at me. “Life with Ambrose would be even busier, all the time.”
“You aren’t up to the task?”
“Are you?”
I pursed my lips, not deigning to answer the question.
“I don’t think you’re right for him.”
I raised an eyebrow at the bold statement. “Oh?”
She sighed. “This competition is about finding a good match for Ambrose in his role as duke, but … there are other things to consider.”
“I assume you’re referring to matters of the heart?”
Cecelia tilted her head and watched me for a moment. Uneasy under her gaze, I looked away. “There is the heart to consider, yes,” she agreed. “I think you get along far easier with Maxwell. It’s forced with Ambrose.”
