Chapter Nine
Dare or nodare, Percy couldn’t do this.
He ran a hand through his hair, feeling exposed without a wig or mustache to hide behind. There was no story this time, no façade or mission. Tonight, and every night here hence, he’d be the Duke of Grandfellow, vulnerable plucked fowl.
He had but two measly knives strapped to his person, the limit his skintight trousers and fitted vest and coat would allow. It was a joke to miss the itchy costumes and web of falsehoods to remember in company. But stumbling through half-formed accents and lying through his teeth were preferable to the spectacle he made now.
He’d slipped Lord Knight’s majordomo a few pounds to keep from announcing him like a course at a dinner party, but it was no matter. As soon as his toe had crossed the ballroom threshold—an opulent and nauseatingly gilded room meant to display wealth and power—every eye turned to him, and then the whispers began.
Percy shuddered. Like insects skittering through bones. And he was the lucky corpse.
What the hell was he thinking?
“You showed up.”
“Gah!” Percy scowled at his friend, the Duke of Camine, who leaned against the wall behind him, looking self-important in anelegant black coat and white gloves. Percy was in a sorry state if a damned duke could sneak up on him.
“I can’t believe you came; I owe Charlotte five pounds.” Hamish shook his head. “Why are you hiding?”
Percy indicated the potted plant he’d been using as a shield between himself and the rest of the flesh-eating maggots. “I was admiring Lady Knight’s gardenias.”
Hamish smirked. “That’s a fern.”
Percy straightened his cuffs. “I’d have sworn it was a gardenia bush.”
Hamish’s expression brightened with glee. “Good God, I can’t wait for Charlotte to see you. All nerves and primed like a goose at Christmas.” He glanced around, no doubt looking for his sharp-tongued duchess, who was currently chatting with her brother, the Duke of Lux, by the refreshment table.
“Your empathy is overwhelming,” Percy muttered.
Hamish showed no remorse. “If our roles were reversed, you’d be selling tickets to my humiliation and using the proceeds to hire actors to immortalize the scene on stage.”
True.
“Very well, have your fun. Ten more minutes and I’m gone.”
“Whydidyou come?” Hamish cocked a brow. “We both know it wasn’t for flower gazing.”
For a woman. Percy nearly said the words aloud but didn’t. A woman who was distinctly missing from said ball. The only reason a man like him would voluntarily enter this glittering hell. If Danny wasn’t here, that meant she’d invited him and stayed home deliberately.
What a fool he was to believe her ill-conceived words.“We could be friends.”
Even now, she must have been regretting what they’d done in her bedchambers.
Percy cursed. He’d told himself to go slow, to take his time. Instead, he’d jumped the gun like an idiot.
It wasn’t until now, staring out at the sea of sharks and bottom dwellers, that Percy realized how great an offer friendship had been. Somewhere between last night and today, he’d mucked it all up. The thought made his insides twist, nerves having nothing to do with it.
Lady Charlotte Hurstfield, the Duchess of Camine, glided through the crowd and stopped before them, her wide smile matching the silver ribbon tied at her waist. She cast her husband a smug look. “You owe me five pounds.”
Hamish wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I don’t appear to have anything on me at the moment. Would you be interested in a kiss as collateral?”
Her fingers spidered up his lapel, tickling the fabric. “I’ll have to charge you interest, you understand?”
Hamish captured her fingers in his hand before raising them to his mouth and smiling. “That’s just good business.”
Percy rolled his eyes and stepped out from behind thefernand offered his place to the two. “A bit of privacy before you scandalize the unfortunate wallflowers? Or is your goal to be thrown out for indecency?”
“Ooo, thrown out of a ball.” Charlotte glanced up at her husband. “That’s something we’ve never done.”
