The waiters came around with dessert, lovely trifles topped with plum strawberries, blueberries, and rich cream. Unfortunately, the state of her mind overcame any desire she had for the sweet and instead sipped her lemonade.
While the meal went on and chatter swirled around her, Ariadne felt her vision begin to double on her at times. She blinked it away only to feel her ears begin to ring and her heart pound out of rhythm.
She reached for her drink again and missed it by a mile, and tried again, only to tip the glass over. Thankfully, there was little inside, so it did not flood the tablecloth or upset the candelabra on the table, but it did get her mother’s attention.
“Ariadne?” Ophelia leaned in, brows furrowing as she rightened the glass. “Are you all right?”
“I think—” she blinked and blinked again, “I think I drank too much tonight, Mother.”
“It’s all right,” her mother said while standing, “Come along, dear. I’ll help you get some rest.”
As much as she wanted to object, Ariadne realized this feeling was not going to go away. A footman helped her up, and after her mother made excuses, they left the room and headed up the stairs.
“One moment, dear,” Ophelia said, then called out to a footman. “Excuse me. My daughter is unwell; can you kindly point me in the direction of the guest quarters?”
Dimly, she heard the footman give her mother directions, but Ariadne couldn’t keep her concentration on what he said; she could only muster the strength to follow her mother down long hallways and dizzying corners.
“We’re almost there, dear,” her mother replied.
She nodded with exhaustion while her mother pushed the bedroom’s door in and they both stepped inside. The room was dim, the moonlight barely flitting through the thick drapes, but all Ariadne could focus on was the bed at the far end of the room.
“Let’s get you out of your layers,” her mother said as she directed Ariadne to sit on the edge of the bed. Kneeling, her mother took her shoes off and then, when she stood again, undid the buttons and lacing on her dress, leaving her in her low cup, silken chemise.
“There,” Ophelia laid the clothes over a chair. “Now, get into bed and get some rest. I’ll be back with some water soon.”
Tugging the blankets down, Ariadne slipped into one of the softest mattresses and pillows she had ever felt. Instantly, the pounding in her head began to ease, and she felt that her mother was leaving the room or puttering around.
Soon, she slipped away into sleep, comforted by the fire she assumed her mother had struck to life.
She dimly felt her mother smooth her hair away from her face, “It will be all right in the morning, dear. Get some rest.”
It was a scent that alerted her first.
Dimly, Ariadne inhaled a scent that was certainly not her perfume; it was spicy, musky and earthy, raw and rich. It was an enticing scent but it was not hers nor did she remember any of her sisters having such a thing. The scent was prominent enough to make her wonder to whom it belonged.
She peeled her eyes open to the warm rays of early morning, and as her eyes adjusted, she saw leather furniture, an open wardrobe, and a cupboard with various liquors placed on it.
A thin but icy trail of dread began to slip through her ribcage and twine around her breastbone. She spotted a chair with men’sgarments strewn over and near it, a leather bag that had been left open to reveal a brush, a razor, and a small tin of shaving soap.
These were the trappings of man—a man who owned the bedroom— and most certainly not the bare furniture of an empty guest chamber.
She was in the wrong bedroom.
She was in a man’s bedroom.
Breathless with panic, she considered what to do, how to sneak out of the room before the owner returned—then felt the bed dip with someone turning on it.
An arm snaked around her middle, and a husky voice murmured in her ear, “How industrious of you, Delilah.” He kissed the back of her neck, while his hand slid and rested on her arm…. And terrified, Ariadne screamed.
He leaped off her in a second, and she shot up in the bed, grabbing at the sheets to protect her modesty and put a shield between him and her.
“Who the devil are you?” Leander swore as he grabbed a robe to cover his nakedness. His eyes bugged. “Ariadne? What- what are you doing in my chambers?”
“I—”
It did not matter what she said, as at the next moment, he was gone. Still dazed, a bit disoriented, and utterly horrified, Ariadne slipped out of the bed, lurching for her dress and dragging it on.
“How—” she gasped. “How did this happen?”
