Cassian had reached the hosts. Gustave offered a handshake. Carine, a kiss on the cheek.
Not quite endorsement. Permission. That was all he needed.
The Langleys, frozen by the dessert table, looked like portraits that hadn’t been dusted in years. Glass expressions. Brittle posture. Nothing to say, because nothing could be said.
The Kings, speaking quietly to Georgina’s parents, remained composed but still.
Across the ballroom, Bea spotted the Griffins. They weren’t rattled. They looked, if anything, mildly entertained.
Georgina and Hunter crossed the room with the kind of ease that came from knowing every eye was already watching someone else. Georgie touched Gage’s arm lightly, murmuring something meant only for him.
Naomi and Charles, Isabel and Mason, joined the loose circle.
Bea’s gaze caught silver. Someone else was approaching.
Catherine Vale was walking in a beeline toward Gage.
“Gage. Can you believe he came?” Her voice was soft. Almost deferential. Like she was trying to smooth over a misunderstanding and offer her fealty all at once.
Slowly, Gage looked at her. Made it clear he’d heard, then turned his head. As if she hadn’t spoken. As if she didn’t exist.
If this werePride and Prejudice, it would have been called acut direct.
Georgina didn’t hide her smirk. Nobody rushed to fill the space.
Catherine stood there a moment longer, like she couldn’t quite believe it.
Then, Gage touched Bea’s cheek. Light, brief. A gesture he never made in public. “Should I get you a drink?”
Bea nodded. She didn’t trust her voice.
Chapter Twenty
Bea sat curled in bed, knees drawn up, laptop propped against a pillow. The rain had started an hour ago, a soft, silver wash against the windows, as the late-afternoon sun melted into early evening.
Georgina was with Hunter, and wouldn’t be home until late. Gage had a dinner meeting. That meant she was free to download to Claire.
Claire was in bed too, propped up against a wall of pillows, hair in a loose bun. It was nearly 11 p.m. in Toronto.
They’d already been talking for over an hour. Bea had told her everything. No detail had been too small, and Claire had wanted it all.
The estate, the food, the guests, the gossip. The military-style games that had turned a group of rich men into a fever dream of elite soldiers. The black-tie dinner. The dances. Catherine.
Claire sat back with a satisfied sigh. “Finally. Justice. Gloriousjustice.”
“Is it bad that I kind of loved it when he ignored her?”
“If you didn’t, I’d say you were lying.” Claire smirked. “That was the first cut. You know there’ll be more.”
“Do you think?”
Claire leaned in, eyes gleaming. “You don’t think Gage is done with her, do you?”
Bea thought about that. “I almost feel sorry for her, then.”
Almost.
The angel on her shoulder whispered:Take the high road.
