My Lord Vampire (Immortal Rogues #1)(10)

Spending the day pacing the floor of her bedchamber, Simone had at last gathered her courage and attired herself in a glittering yellow gown.

She would not cower in her home because of Mr. Gideon Ravel, or any other man, she had told herself sternly. He might have bested her today, but the battle was far from over. She would teach him that she was no woman to trifle with.

Keeping that thought firmly in mind she had called for her carriage and arrived at the theater where she was to join a small, select party. She did not think to meet Mr. Ravel there, but she hoped that he would at least hear she had been in attendance with her usual serene composure.

Her determination briefly faltered as she entered the theater and was swiftly joined by a tall, gaunt-faced gentleman attired in a formal coat and knee breeches. Simone stiffened with displeasure as he glided close beside her, his long silver hair pulled into a queue at his neck.

She had no reasonable excuse for disliking Mr. Soltern. In truth he had been quite charming on the few occasions that their paths had crossed. But while he was always polite there was something about the gray, lifeless eyes that sent a chill over her skin.

Unconsciously she pulled away from his tall frame, her nose twitching at the vague, unpleasant scent of cold steel that seemed to shroud about him.

Perhaps noting her instinctive withdrawal, the gentleman bared his large teeth in what was no doubt intended as a smile.

“Ah, my fair angel. How fortunate I am to have crossed your path.”

“Thank you, Mr. Soltern,” she forced herself to say in pleasant tones.

“Tristan, my dear,” he chided softly, waving the ebony cane that he held in a thin, bony hand. “I presume you have also been summoned to join Lord Stonewall in his box?”

She swallowed the instinctive denial. She could not simply turn and leave the theater just because she discovered this man was to be a part of her party. Such an insult might very well make him an enemy. And she possessed an uncanny sense that he would be a very dangerous foe.

“Yes, a tedious task, I fear. You need not bother to escort me.”

“A task is never tedious in your charming company, Simone,” he said with an unwelcome air of intimacy. “Indeed, I would be content to walk at your side for an eternity.”

Simone shuddered in horror at the mere thought. “Very pretty, sir.”

A silence fell as they climbed the wide stairs, then with a sideways glance Tristan gently cleared his throat.

“I understand that you had a rather unexpected guest at your salon last evening.”

Simone stiffened before she could prevent the betraying motion. Damn the incessant tattlers. She did not like the thought of London gossiping about Mr. Ravel and their obvious confrontation.

“Did I?”

“A Mr. Ravel,” he prompted her.

She kept her expression smoothly unconcerned. She certainly had no intention of adding to any speculation.

“Yes, now that you mention it, he did attend.”

“He is an acquaintance of yours?”

“Of sorts,” she readily lied, reluctantly turning to meet that dead gaze. “Why do you ask?”

He paused before lifting a thin shoulder. “I am merely concerned for your welfare.”

Simone frowned at his words. This was the second occasion she had been warned that she was somehow in danger. A chill trickled down her spine.

“Concerned?”

“I have known Mr. Ravel for countless years and unfortunately I must confess that he is utterly untrustworthy.”

Her expression became cool at the rapier edge in his voice. It was obvious he possessed a deep dislike for Mr. Ravel. And that he hoped to sway her own opinion.

Regardless of the fact she had devoted most of the day to cursing Gideon she was not about to be blindly informed of whom she could or could not trust. Certainly not by a man who made her skin crawl.

“In what manner?” she retorted in tones that should have warned the most obtuse she was displeased.

“He rarely speaks the truth and always possesses a hidden motive when offering his friendship. Especially in regards to beautiful and wealthy women.”

“He is a fortune hunter?”

He heaved a sigh that hissed oddly through his teeth. “I am sad to say he is, indeed.”

Simone firmly turned to regard the landing crowded with elegant guests. If Mr. Ravel were a fortune hunter, he would be far from the first to have attempted to lure her.

She had been a target since arriving in London.

“I have no fear of being seduced out of my fortune, Mr. Soltern. I am no innocent chit who futilely clings to the notion of love.”

With her head turned she missed the lethal chill that momentarily tightened the gaunt features.

“Even a woman with remarkable wits can be blinded by her passions. You would do well to avoid the companionship of Mr. Ravel,” he persisted.

Being recalled of the passions that had been stirred to life only that afternoon did nothing to improve Simone’s temper. She did not want to believe she could ever be at the mercy of her desire. Not even for a gentleman who possessed the unearthly beauty of an angel and the seductive charm of a devil.

“It is very kind of you to concern yourself with my welfare, but I prefer to make my own judgments about others,” she said in tones that defied argument.

“But of course,” he agreed in oily tones that held only a hint of disapproval. “I merely sought to warn you of the dangers.”