The Wicked Heir (Spare Heirs #3)(21)

“Only I’m a lady.” She looked down to her hands where they were entwined together on the wall. “I’m not allowed that kind of control over my life. I can only hope for the best.”

“And this is why you escape your life, living in stories instead.”

“Is that such an awful thing?”

“No. It’s enchanting.” She was enchanting, from her oddly perceptive eyes to her dreamy view of all the world had to offer. He shifted to lean a hip against the wall, lowering himself a bit to meet her gaze. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Lady Isabelle. Just don’t let this life pass you by while you’re dreaming of another.”

She grinned at him, a smile intended for a friend—only a friend. “Point life out as we go. Then I won’t miss it.”

“Friendship. That’s why you keep me about,” he muttered, wishing for a moment that she would really see him right in front of her.

But it was for the best that she didn’t. Nothing was possible between them. He could never offer her the life she wanted, not the one she deserved. And anything between them would be an added complication when he had plenty of official matters to be getting on with at the moment—at every moment. What was he thinking even lingering here with her?

“I’ll put your keen pirate eyes to good use,” she teased.

“It’s for a noble cause,” he replied, but he was already focused on the ballroom behind Isabelle, where his responsibilities awaited him. And that was when he saw movement just inside the terrace doors. His worst fear was in a moment realized.

Reginald Grapling was standing there, his eyes fixed on Isabelle.

The necklace. He glanced back to Isabelle. The blasted locket that hung around her neck fairly called Grapling to her. Had the man planted it in Knottsby’s library for Isabelle to find? Was this simply some sick coincidence? Had he somehow given the damned thing to her?

There was no time to think about that now. His only concern was for the lady who stood before him, oblivious to the danger at her back. Steeling himself against the icy chill that sliced through his body, he worked to keep his breathing steady. This was a mission like any other. It’s just a job for the Spares, he told himself. Isabelle just happened to be present for this one.

First Fallon had to get her to safety, only there was no place to take her other than straight toward the very man who’d killed the locket’s previous owner. If Grapling knew what was good for him, he would remove his filthy gaze from Isabelle’s perfect fair skin…now!

Fallon forced his pulse into a steady beat while staring down his enemy. A cruel sneer appeared on the man’s face. He raised a brow a fraction, as if pleased about seeing Fallon there with Isabelle. Self-serving…but he wouldn’t get anything from them tonight. Fallon gripped the edge of the wall at his side, tamping down his desire to lunge across the terrace and pummel the man. That would only cause talk in town, something Grapling clearly knew. Fallon had to get Isabelle away from here.

“Let’s return to the ball,” Fallon suggested, his gaze never leaving Grapling’s. “You have dances to enjoy, I’m certain.”

“And you have your meetings and other such dull activities.” She gave him a pitying sigh as she took his arm. She was looking up at him, still unaware of their audience, and Fallon was grateful for it. She didn’t need to even lay eyes on someone like Grapling.

They were mere steps away from the man. Under different circumstances, Fallon would have dragged the bastard into the dark garden and apprehended him right then, ended this chase. But keeping Isabelle safe won out.

Fallon put himself between the threat beside the door and Isabelle. Tensed for potential battle, he moved closer with Isabelle on his arm.

One step. Then another. Closer to danger. And all the while with Isabelle unaware of the trouble she was walking toward.

But in the next second, the crowd shifted and Grapling was gone. Fallon sped as much as he could with Isabelle in tow, but the man had vanished—just as Fallon had taught him to do all those years ago.

The only thing that remained was the look Fallon had seen in the man’s eyes when he’d spied Isabelle’s necklace. Like a bull spotting red, the pistol fire at the start of a horse race… Fallon knew that look and what it meant.

The game was on.





Four


Dear Lord Knottsby,

I hope this note finds you well. You asked long ago to be advised if there ever came a situation that might affect your new title or family. While I am investigating this unfortunate matter myself to ensure the safety of everyone involved, you should know that there is a potentially dangerous situation at hand. Please be on your guard. Your vigilance is appreciated and will be remembered in the future.

—St. James

? ? ?

There he was, blond hair blowing in the breeze. His eyes danced across the crowd gathered in the garden. Sunny strands of his deliciously overlong hair whipped across his tanned skin even as he smiled into the face of the unfortunate weather. After such a clear evening, today was bringing quite the change. The brisk wind that had blown in was doing nothing to calm the nerves of Lady Marksby, their host for the outdoor gathering today. But it suited Mr. Brice perfectly. This must be what he would look like atop a horse as he raced across a field on his way to save a small child from harm.

Isabelle adjusted the locket at her throat, sighed, and stared. Had he sent her the locket to wear? Thus far, her mystery gentleman was just that—a mystery. And all she could do was wait. Somewhere behind her, conversation continued over her friend Roselyn’s new shoes and moved from there to news of her cousin Evangeline’s outing to the park earlier, in the company of some gentleman. Normally Isabelle would have jumped upon the retelling of such a romantic event, but not when she was deep in a dream of her own romance. At any moment Mr. Brice would look in her direction and their eyes would meet across the lawn. He would see the locket at her throat, and he would know that she wore it for him. He would sweep toward her and meet her just like the wind on this blustery day. Then they would—of course—be married, since his love for her was so grand. Unless it was another gentleman who had sent her the necklace… But she would worry about that later, if necessary.