Page 47
“Be careful, Maelin.” Phineas’ gentle demeanour vanished, and she stared into eyes that betrayed no emotion at all. “You may have stumbled into something rather larger than I suspect you realise. And Lord Drake has a habit of walking in dangerous places.”
She gave him back the same look. “I will. Thank you.”
It had been a strange afternoon, she mused, as the door closed behind her and she left the 422 Club, heading back to Theryn House.
She wanted the comfort of her own room to think things through. She was hungry, and wanted something to eat. And above all, she wanted Cyrus.
He was the only person with whom she could share her afternoon’s experiences.
Certainly Aunt Varelle wasn’t going to be impressed, or even care about her husband, apparently. But he was happy where he was, and she was happy where she was, so who was Maelin to criticise their choices?
Dismissing that entire line of thought, she returned to Theryn House, her mind turning over much more vital matters than who lived where.
But those matters had to take a back seat when she was greeted at the front door by Darady.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re home, my Lady. Your aunt wants you downstairs for drinks with her guests in half an hour. I was so worried you wouldn’t make it in time...”
“Urgh.” Maelin grunted. “I can’t get out of it, can I...”
“No.” Darady was firm. “Not this time.”
Obediently, Maelin allowed Darady to shepherd her up to her room, strip her, practically bathe her, and then help her into her gown.
“Not the silver silk, Darady.”
“But...” The older woman frowned.
“No. I will not be paraded like a prize cow, in my finest clothing.”
“But...”
“If I remember correctly, some artist and his family are coming this evening. Any time a single gentleman is part of the party, I need to be cautious. Very cautious. So no elegant or revealing or fashionable gowns, tonight, Darady. The simple blue muslin will be fine.”
“As you wish,” sighed Darady. “Inky will braid your hair in a few minutes.” She glanced at the clock. “But we need to hurry.”
Despite her attendants’ fussing, Maelin was ready in time to join her Aunt on the staircase as the guests arrived.
Varelle gave her the once-over, sighing and shrugging. “You’ll never find a decent husband if you dress like a servant, Maelin. Really. Surely you have something a little more...glamorous?”
“I like this gown, Aunt. It’s always a pleasure to be wearing something comfortable when entertaining, don’t you think?” She shot a quick look over her aunt’s extremely fashionable silk ensemble.
Varelle snorted, then turned her expression into a warm smile as the guests arrived.
Maelin’s worst fears were confirmed. The artist’s family were...gushing. The artist himself must have been painting pictures in his head, since his gaze remained fixed on Maelin’s bosom, hidden of course, but presented nicely by a delicately embroidered bodice that embraced her curves.
They were about to troop into the parlour for pre-dinner drinks, when a servant came up to Maelin. “Your pardon, my Lady,” he bowed. “A message just arrived.”
“Thank the gods,” muttered Maelin, tearing it open.
“Maelin? Are you coming, darling?”
She ignored her aunt’s summons, and read the note.
“I have news. Come to the wharf, and I’ll meet you there.”
Maelin’s heart leapt as she read the hastily scrawled words. She could almost feel the urgency...what could he have found? Would it augment her news?
Without a second thought, she walked to the door of the parlour. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me this evening, Aunt Varelle...” She glanced into the room, doing her best not to put her hand up over her breasts and shield them from that dogged stare. “A previous commitment. I had set it aside without realising it was tonight. My apologies. It’s something I cannot ignore.”
