The color had suddenly drained from his face. His pupils were dilated, his breaths rapid and shallow. He was looking past her to the entrance of the amphitheatre…
Craning her neck, Vi glimpsed a black-haired gentleman standing there. Of medium height and elegantly trim, he exuded an aura of cold ruthlessness that she could sense even from a distance. The pair of hulking brutes flanking his sides added to his menacing presence.
“Who is that?” she whispered.
Wick raked his hair with a visibly shaking hand. “Who do you mean?”
“That man over there with the guards. The one who’s staring at you?”
“I haven’t the faintest,” he said unconvincingly. “Look, I just remembered that I, er, promised to meet up with someone. See you later?”
“Wick, what is going—”
Before she could finish, he pushed his way into the aisle, eliciting disgruntled exclamations from other guests. He waded his way toward the rear of the theatre—in the opposite direction from the ominous stranger—and exited through a back door.
Stupefied, Vi turned to her sister. “Em, do you know that man by the entryway?”
Her sister followed her gaze. “I don’t recognize him. But judging from his charming entourage, I’d guess he’s one of Billings’ infamous associates. Why do you ask?”
“Wick seemed taken aback when he saw the man looking at him,” Vi said.
Em’s sable brows lifted. “Wouldn’t you feel the same way?”
Both of them glanced at the stranger. Vi’s nape prickled. The cutthroat was looking at the door through which Wick had exited, his gaze as hard and unblinking as a snake’s.
Chapter Eight
“How absolutelysportingof you to arrange this, Gabby,” Vi said.
It was an hour before supper, and she and Polly were following their hostess down the hallway toward Madame Monique’s suite, where they would have a private audience with the diva. The skirts of the girls’ evening gowns swished over the thick carpeting.
Gabby chuckled. “You’re welcome. This meeting will be brief, but you’ll have more time to converse at supper. I’ve put you and your family at my table with Madame Monique.”
“Smashing,” Vi breathed.
“There’s only one hitch to my seating plans.” Gabby huffed out a breath. “Father insisted that I place Viscount Carlisle next to me.”
At the mention of Carlisle, Violet experienced—on top of everything—a swift tug of guilt. She’d engaged in an illicit (albeit entirely unplanned) embrace with Gabby’s potential suitor. It went against her code of honor, her very nature, to betray a friend. True, the other girl hadn’t seemed at all interested in Carlisle… but what if her feelings had changed?
As Violet searched for some casual way to bring up the topic, Polly said, “How are things going with Carlisle?”
“Terribly. I dread each and every encounter,” Gabby said with feeling. “He never smiles, we have naught in common, and I’ve had better luck carrying on a conversation with a house plant. The truth is he makes me horribly nervous. And you know what I do when I’m nervous: I chatter. And chatter. Over supper last night, I carried on a conversation with myself for two whole hours.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as all that,” Polly said soothingly.
Vi wasn’t so sure. Because Gabbycouldout chatter a magpie. It was part of her charm.
“Trust me, it was.” Gabby came to an abrupt halt, her blue eyes beseeching. “If you see me talking too much tonight, give me a kick under the table, will you?”
“I can’t kick you,” Polly protested.
“I’ll do it.” Vi figured she owed Gabby the favor. Clearing her throat, she said, “Are youcertainyou’re not interested in him, Gabby?”
“Yes. Absolutely. Not only does he lack conversational skills, he’s so…”—Gabby shuddered—“large.”
Vi flashed back to the feel of Carlisle’s hard, aroused body pinning her to the wall. Heat fluttered at her core, the tips of her breasts tingling. She couldn’t deny that she found his brawny physique powerfully stimulating. His thick, muscular thigh had felt so good wedged between her legs, and the way he’d touched her, his big hands roaming with such exquisite care…
No, get your mind out of the gutter! Remember he used you—merely to prove a point.
