Wait. Yes, thingsaredifferent this time. I’m not alone. Thorne knows Monty. He can help me act however I need to act, be whomever I need to be, to satisfy his friend. At this point, it’s our only hope. For now. Once his father returns, I can appeal to him myself, as can Thorne. This marriage is happening. It must.
You’re the Briar family hero.
The reminder of what’s at stake bolsters my nerves. I can do this. Donning a pleasant smile, I say, “I agree to your game, Mr. Phillips.”
He thrusts his fist in the air in a victorious gesture, then closes in on me so fast, I’m not at all prepared for the kiss he plants on my cheek. Keeping his face next to mine, he whispers, “You’ve already won your first round. Four more to go.”
I almost don’t hear the last part, for a sharp sound like something breaking splinters the air nearby. Monty pulls away, then saunters back toward the party, whistling a jaunty tune.
I’m so caught off guard by that exchange, I almost forget to seek the source of that breaking sound. Then I see it. Two halves of the shattered clay cup in Thorne’s tightly clenched hand.
24
THORNE
My blood boils as I watch Monty stride away, hands in his pockets. How dare he turn his engagement into a game? He’s always been one of the most irritating human beings I’ve ever had the displeasure to know, but he’s reached a new low with this.
Monty waltzes past his guests, only some of which had been spying on the exchange by the pond, and heads for the solarium. I start after him. Maybe I can talk some sense into the bastard. I can’t count on Lady Phillips to intervene, for she’s never cared what Monty does. Lord Phillips will be outraged when he returns, but he can do nothing while he’s away.
A sharp pain pulses in my palm just as I reach the cluster of guests crowding the lawn. I glance down at my hand and find a stream of crimson beneath two halves of shattered clay. Right. The broken cup. I don’t know what came over me, but when Monty shoved his idiotic face so close to Briony’s and kissed her cheek, I nearly throttled him. He’s lucky I only broke a cup and not his nose.
Some of the party guests call out to me as I move through the crowd, for many are my acquaintances as well, though I can’t say I like any of them. I ignore them all, setting the broken cup in the middle of a table and eliciting startled gasps from its patrons, then proceed after Monty. As I near the solarium, I untie my cravat and wrap it around my bleeding hand. My half-fae heritage will ensure rapid healing, but for now, I might as well staunch the blood flow.
I find Monty sprawled on a divan in the solarium beside a cluster of potted orchids. He absently plucks one of the blooms between two fingers and brings its short stem to his lips like a cigarette. His expression brims with a combination of arrogance and carelessness as I stop before the divan, arms crossed over my chest.
He mimes smoking the orchid bloom, then perches it between his lips and rests his arms behind his head. His voice comes out slightly muffled around the stem. “I told you not to bring her back if she was ugly, so I can see why you ensured her safe arrival.”
“You’re making a mockery of your betrothal.”
“Her family has made a mockery of it ever since it was forged.”
“Is this really how you want to start your marriage? With a game?”
He takes another pretend puff of his orchid and flicks it away. “I like to start everything with a game.”
“You’re showing her that your love must be earned. Won.”
He looks me over with narrowed eyes. “Why do you care? If she wants me to choose her, she should choose me as well. Besides, I wouldn’t want to play with her so badly if I didn’t think I liked her.”
“She isn’t a toy, Monty. She’s a person.”
“You’re awfully protective over my fiancée. Is there something you want to tell me, old pal?” He gives a pointed look at my bandaged hand. “Interesting wound you have there.”
His words have my own sticking in my throat. WhyamI being so protective? I want to believe it’s because of my bargain with Briony. Because Monty’s idiocy is jeopardizing it. That’s certainly part of it, but there’s more to it than that. Outside of our families’ feud, Briony is a wonderful woman. Before I discovered the truth of her identity, I cherished my dreams about her. When we aren’t fighting—stones, even when we are—she’s undoubtedly beautiful. Strong. Fierce. A prize for any man. Yet Monty is treating her like an inconvenience. A pawn on a game board. She deserves so much better than this asshole.
“By the way,” Monty says, “we’re going to your house tomorrow.”
“My house?”
“Yes, for I’d rather not play our game with so many spectators. I’m already tired of them. I told my guests they could stay until my father gets back.”
I speak through my teeth. “Then make them leave.”
“I can’t do that, Thorny boy. That’s plain rude.”
“And inviting yourself over to my house isn’t? What about leaving your guests? That isn’t well-mannered either.”
Monty chuckles. “They won’t even know I’m gone. Come on. You promised Angela you’d host a country party when she came back from boarding school. She’ll be home tomorrow and she’ll be giddy if I tell her we’re going to Blackwood Estate.”
