She couldn’t help but wonder what she was going to be trading to earn such a vast array of clothes, but then she remembered that it no longer mattered. Her brother was surely lost to her, engaging in such frivolous activities with the woman who had quite literally sold Fleur’s virtue for her own gain.
Fleur tried to be thankful that her brother wasn’t forced to live on the streets or worse. At least he had a place to sleep and he didn’t seem to be hurting. Instead, he appeared to be flourishing without giving her a second thought.
Renewed anger flowed through her veins as she brought back all of the sacrifices and daring exploits she’d done on his behalf. She believed that he might have felt the same obligations but apparently that wasn’t the case. Perhaps he was right and he was without redemption. Of course, she would never believe it was so. She had never given up the hope that anyone could recover their dark soul—even Drake.
She closed her eyes and recounted the kisses they had shared, and the earth shattering feeling he’d wrought out of her in the middle of the foyer. Never in her life had she wanted to toss away her virtue as much as she did now. It wasn’t likely that she would ever make a proper match, especially as each passing day would draw her reputation closer to ruin. After a public display like the opera, it would likely be the last attempt she might have had to recover some part of her innocence but it was fading away into oblivion and she suddenly wasn’t inclined to mind.
So many times she imagined Drake’s hands on her body, gently caressing her skin. She wanted him to kiss her, to let her heart pound with anticipation that more would follow. She wanted to feel his hot skin against her palms, to stand in front of him, fully naked, and let him look his fill. She wanted to see the fiery hunger in his gaze as he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed where they were finally joined together as one.
Fleur’s breath expelled on a shudder. As she walked over to the wardrobe, she closed her eyes and allowed her fingers to move among the soft silk and muslin until her breath caught. She opened her eyes and knew that was the dress she would wear that evening.
Removing it, she held up the gown next to her. It was a deep, rich silver that caught the light from the candles and shimmered with a brilliant hue. It was the perfect complement to her black hair and green eyes and the exact shade of his gaze. If there was anything that would surely capture Drake’s attention, it would be this dress. By this evening, she planned for him to be slipping it off of her shoulders and laving a path down her spine with his tongue.
She rang for Erin to help her dress, eager for the night to begin.
By the time she had donned the gown and her hair was pinned into an elegant style, the housekeeper arrived to let her know that Drake had returned and was waiting for her downstairs.
With a steadying breath, Fleur left the chamber and began her descent.
From the moment she came into view, Drake’s focus was riveted on her. His attention never once wavered until the point she stood directly in front of him. She waited for him to say something but instead, he inclined his head and turned to open the door for her. She should have been grateful for the chivalrous maneuver when she knew he wasn’t inclined toward such behavior. However, she was disheartened when she didn’t receive a single compliment. But it wasn’t as though they were courting. He didn’t have to woo her, did he? He had already paid for the convenience of her time; had bought the gown she now wore.
Nevertheless, she had her pride and as the hackney stopped at Drury Lane, she stepped to the ground with the footman’s assistance and smiled in her most charming and warm manner. She was rewarded with a surprised blink from the young man’s direction and a slight coloring on his cheeks that she found adorable more than seductive.
Before she could climb the steps, Drake grasped her elbow and bent down to whisper in her ear with that smooth, velvety timbre. “What are you playing at?”
Her heart started to pound, but not with fear. She rather wished it was, because then she wouldn’t be so drawn to him. “Is it wrong to be kind?” she countered innocently.
He saw through her ploy. “If you have something to say to me, perhaps you should do so rather than lead on a man who would be unable to protect you.”
With that, he released her and started forward. Annoyed at his high-handed behavior, Fleur decided that if he wanted to act that way, she would show him how coquettish she could truly be.
Fleur thought they would be headed for the main auditorium but to her surprise, they went toward one of the personal boxes directly in the center that faced the stage. “You have quite an impressive repertoire at your disposal, Mr. Porter,” she murmured. “First your many houses about the city and now the best viewing box to be had at the most revered theatre in London.”
He paused before the curtain that led into the interior. “Alas, I cannot lay claim to this particular box. Mine is further down the row. We shall be joining a fellow acquaintance who is eager to meet you.”
Disappointment immediately shot down her spine. Fleur had been hoping it might be just the two of them for this evening’s entertainment. “When were you going to tell me?”
“I just did,” he returned curtly as he parted the curtain and held it open for her.
She glared at him as she passed but when her attention was soon diverted by a handsome devil-may-care of a gentleman with black hair and equally dark eyes rising from his seat to greet them, she decided that she could use this opportunity to her advantage.
The stranger’s eyes flickered to Mr. Porter before lighting on her. “You must be the Miss Davies I’ve heard so much about.” Fleur smiled broadly and extended her hand. “The pleasure is mine,domine carissime.”
Recognition immediately lit his gaze as he bent over and kissed her gloved knuckles. “Latin,” he murmured. “She is beautiful and intelligent. I may not allow her to return to you.”
Fleur’s stomach fluttered when he spoke, because although he directed his statement to Drake, he never stopped looking at her. It didn’t take her long to ascertain that he was an incomparable charmer.
He was perfect.
“That doesn’t seem very sporting. You know my name but I have yet to learn yours.”
He clucked his tongue in a manner of chastisement at Drake, and then the stranger waved a hand toward the front of the box—directly next to where he had been sitting, leaving Mr. Porter to take a seat on the other side of their host and away from Fleur.
She smiled broadly, because she couldn’t have planned things more perfectly. If Drake cared for her at all, tonight would force him to prove his devotion. She was tired of waiting for him to come to her. She still wanted to fulfill some sort of purpose—and forget everything she had failed to succeed for her and Flavian.
“You can call me Avalon,” he noted after they had settled. A quick glance at Drake proved that he didn’t care for this situation at all, but other than the muscle that flexed in his jaw, he kept his attention forward and all but ignored their interaction.
“Avalon… Is that a family name?” she asked softly.
