A Lily Among Thorns(80)

“I am very sorry, sir,” Ravi said nervously. “I was only—his lordship asked me to—”

Solomon made a harried gesture and smiled at him. “You’re not in any trouble, Ravi. Just get back inside. I’ll help this gentleman.”

“Yes, sir,” Ravi gasped with a last pleading look at Apollo, and fled.

The Apollo turned to Solomon with a smile. “Thank you, I’d like another glass of champagne.”

Solomon looked down his nose. It would have been more effective with half-glasses instead of a half mask, but some things couldn’t be helped. “You may get it yourself, my lord,” he said pityingly. “And don’t threaten a member of our staff again. Lady Serena frowns on it.”

The gentleman chuckled incredulously. “My dear boy, I wasn’t threatening anybody.”

“Perhaps you don’t care that Lady Serena frowns on it,” Solomon suggested in a mild tone. “But I rather think you care to keep both your ears. Not to mention both of certain other appendages.”

Apollo smiled uneasily, as if he wasn’t sure whether that was a jest and hoped that if he pretended it was, Solomon would go along with it.

Solomon’s borrowed livery jacket was a little too tight across the shoulders. When experimenting before the ball to see whether he could alter it successfully to fit (he couldn’t, since there wasn’t enough extra fabric on the inside seam), he’d discovered that it pulled uncomfortably taut when he brought his hands up to adjust his gloves. He did so now. “Do you understand me?”

Apollo eyed Solomon’s broad shoulders nervously and did not respond.

“I believe I asked you a question.”

He looked away. “Fine! Yes! I understand you!”

Solomon gave him an encouraging smile. “Good. Don’t ever speak to that boy again.” He turned and walked slowly inside. Once out of Apollo’s line of sight, he leaned against the wall and tried to catch his breath. A little bubble of hilarity was lodged in the back of his throat.

I intimidated a lord, he thought incredulously. I intimidated a lord! Soon I’ll be a full-fledged member of the London underworld. Now that called for cartwheels.

He looked up, and his victorious gaze fell on Lord Smollett, laying siege to an angel not a few feet distant. Her blond hair was piled high on her head and surmounted by a wire halo. Tiny, feathered wings sprouted from the back of her white muslin gown. Her entire face, with the exception of her eyes, was covered with a golden mask. Lord Smollett rumbled something, and the angel laughed, a husky, musical laugh that, although he had never heard it before, sent shivers down Solomon’s spine.

Solomon knew at once that it must be her. Usually, of course, her severity was feigned, and her laughter was real. But only one woman had ever been able to make Solomon feel like this with just a laugh.

He looked closer, and sure enough, the angel had gray eyes. He grinned evilly and went off to fetch a champagne tray.





Chapter 19


When someone—say, Lord Smollett—was taking a full glass of champagne off a tray, Solomon discovered that it only took a very small jostle to make him spill it all down his front.

“I say, Smollett, I’m dashed sorry—haven’t quite got the knack of these trays.” Solomon dabbed at the spreading stain with the napkin he carried over one arm.

“Give me that!” Smollett snatched the napkin and tried to contain the champagne that now graced his waistcoat and breeches. He squinted at Solomon. “Why, if it isn’t the Hatherdasher! No job too menial, eh? But I suppose when the Siren commands—”

Solomon winked conspiratorially. “Don’t let’s talk about Lady Serena just now,” he said in a low voice perfectly calculated to reach Serena’s ears. “Who is this diamond?”

She stiffened.

“Haven’t the foggiest. An angel, isn’t she?” Smollett said, and guffawed at his own wit. To Serena he said, “Sorry, m’dear, you’ll have to excuse me for a moment. Have this fellow fetch you something, if you like.” He squelched off toward the gentlemen’s withdrawing room.

“Would you like a glass of champagne, madam?” Solomon asked.

“I would,” she said in sultry tones. The effect was spoiled a little since her words were muffled by her mask, but Solomon’s pulse sped up anyway. “But not on the front of my gown.”

He smiled lazily at her. “I only spill champagne on gentlemen speaking to ladies I particularly wish to meet.”