Revenge and the Wild(49)

“I look stupid.”

He studied her dress without argument.

“Your face is pretty,” he said.

She waved off the shallow comment with a swish of the fan she held between copper fingers.

He took hold of it. “When do I get my chance to sweep the floor with that hideous gown of yours?” After reading the names, his face turned ashen. He had obviously found Cain and Hubbard Fairfield on the list. “I suppose it’s a good thing Nigel had me hide your parasol.”

“So that’s where it went to.”

“I agree it is good strategy to befriend James Lovett, but your dance card suggests he’s courting you.”

She thought about her dance with James, his unfortunate story, those deep eyes. “Spending time with James won’t be the worst way to get information about the Fairfields.”

Alistair gave her an intense look that made her fidget. “Sounds a little like you fancy the heir.” He turned away from her. “Wouldn’t that be something? Imagine the fortune you’d inherit if the pair of you wed,” he said.

“I hate it when you use Nigel’s British words. What man uses a word like fancy?”

He didn’t seem to care if she and James walked out together. The thought hurt her more than she cared to acknowledge. Suddenly she lost her taste for the food being carried out of the kitchen by servers, as well as the taste for music and dance.

James wove his way through the dancers to reach her. “There you are.” He held a champagne flute. “I had to calm Mrs. Fairfield. She’s a bit cross that she wasn’t seated at the debutante table.”

Westie took the flute from James, stared into the familiar bubbles, and heard her stomach gurgle. Alistair took it from her before she could get sick.

“It does seem rude,” Westie said. “I’ll have to make it up to her.” She looked around, noticing Nigel had put the Fairfields at the opposite end of the room from Westie’s table. Smart man, but she wouldn’t learn anything by avoiding them.

“I’m sure Lavina will get over it. She’s not one to hold a grudge,” James said.

No, but I am, Westie thought.

Alistair stood and pushed his chair back. He was a head taller than James and wore a similar tailcoat, with a black shirt beneath instead of white.

“I believe the Lovetts and Fairfields aren’t friends of Westie’s. They have no claim to her table,” Alistair said.

James didn’t seem intimidated by Alistair’s greater age and height and seemed not to fear the mask as everyone else did. Instead he smiled, washing his face in a brilliant glow.

“Yes, which is why I feel honored to be placed right beside the debutante,” James said.

Westie looked down at the place cards, and just as planned, James was seated next to her with Nigel on the other side. Alistair wasn’t even at her table.

Alistair’s mask began to hum with his heavy breathing. There was no sign of the gentle boy she was used to when his eyes narrowed. In that moment she could see why everyone feared him.





Twenty-Four


From across the room Westie watched Alistair and Nigel argue. Alistair’s face turned red as he maniacally pointed a finger in Nigel’s face.

“He looks mad,” James observed with a hint of amusement.

“I’ll say.”

By the curious looks on the faces around her, Westie could tell the guests wished they could hear what was being said. The band had become the runner-up in entertainment. Westie looked toward the kitchen. While everyone was distracted by the argument, Bena slipped out of the kitchen into the great room, prowling like a cat without anyone noticing.

Westie held her breath as Bena slid her hand into Lavina’s handbag. There was no going back now.

She glanced back as Alistair put his hands down and stalked out of the room. When she looked toward Bena again, she was gone. Westie’s breath burst from her lungs.

After the meal, the dancing resumed. Ignoring the sneering crowd, Westie danced with the Wintu men. They didn’t know any proper dances so they just made it up as they went, and Westie enjoyed trying to keep up with them. She also danced with James twice. Afterward she found the sheriff and was curious about what had happened with Nadia.

He was dancing with his wife when she approached. “May I have this dance?” she asked.

The sheriff muttered a curse. “Must I?”

His wife hit him in the arm. “Don’t be rude,” she scolded. It was clear who the authority was in the relationship.

The sheriff, with the face of a man caught in the rain, took Westie by the hand. As they danced, Westie said, “Have you found anything concerning Nadia’s attacker?”

He looked away from her, toward the crowd. “Not yet.”

“I know you won’t believe me, but there are still cannibals out there, and I think Nadia was attacked by one.”

The sheriff made an exaggerated noise of annoyance. “Not this again.”

Westie held a hand up, trying to sound reasonable instead of nettlesome. “I don’t blame you for not trusting me. Back when I accused that man of being a cannibal, I wasn’t in my right mind. But I’m sober now. You don’t have to believe me, but can you please just keep an eye out?”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll look further into Nadia’s case as long as you stay out of it.”