“Yes, well, there is that.” She turned away so she could loose her petticoat ties.
Once she was done, Finch approached the man. Revulsion flashed across his face, raw and unmistakable, before discipline smoothed it away.
“Lie still,” he said.
The man sagged against the ground, the fight leaving him at last.
When Finch was done with the task, I watched him lead Rosalynd away, the red of her cape a dark blur against the night, until both vanished into shadow. Only then did I turn back toward the path.
Toward the lights.
Toward the men who would be denied the thing they had come to claim.
Chapter
Thirty-Two
Panic Sets in
At the house, a single footman took my coat without comment. Strange that no invitation was demanded of me. But then, maybe it’d been enough for the men to present them before coming aboard the barge.
As I strolled through the corridor, servants moved through with trays of food and drink, their expressions bland, their eyes carefully averted. I did not partake of the offerings but continued on my journey as laughter drifted toward me.
I wore no mask. That fact was noted almost at once.
“Well, if it isn’t Steele,” a voice called out. “What a surprise.”
A flushed-cheeked man stepped into my path, cup in hand, his smile knowing. “Didn’t take you for one of us,” he said, glancing pointedly at my uncovered face. “Have you finally decided to indulge?”
Another laughed. “Careful. He might be stooping for sport.”
I offered no response and continued on, leaving them behind mid-jest.
The ballroom opened before me, warm with bodies and thick with the smell of wine and sweat. A servant passed, narrowly avoiding a drunken hand. Someone called for oysters. Another demanded more claret.
Men clustered in loose groups, some with their masks tilted back, their voices growing louder as time crept on. Some paced, irritation creeping into their speech. Others were to be found sprawled across couches, victims of their own excess, snoring softly beneath the din.
“It’s past midnight,” one man complained as I passed. “This is becoming farcical.”
“They said the entertainment would be worth the wait,” another replied. “I’m beginning to doubt it.”
I counted as I moved. Near enough to forty. All men.
No women.
And most importantly, no guards posted. They’d probably felt the change in the wind and fled before the storm broke.
I made my way steadily to the low platform at the far end of the space, the murmur shifting as men noticed my progress, curiosity beginning to replace amusement.
As I climbed the steps, I saw them for what they were. Drunk. Restless. Expectant. And utterly convinced the night still belonged to them.
“Gentlemen—” the word soured on my lips “—if I could have your attention.” As I spoke the words, the music came to an end.
“There will be no entertainment tonight,” I announced, revulsion tightening my jaw.
For a moment, confusion reigned. A few men laughed, assuming the statement was a provocation or some tasteless jest. Others frowned, irritation sharpening behind their masks.
Minutes earlier, these men had been bold in their wickedness. Now they watched me with the wary attention ofthose who sensed a shift in power but had not yet understood its nature.
