Code(82)

Like a show pony. Then her words breached my skull.

“Curtsy? Say again?”

Whitney’s eyebrows nearly shot off her head. “Surely they taught you the Saint James Bow in cotillion? We’re not talking the Texas Dip here!”

“Saint James what? Who?” I began to hyperventilate.

Whitney turned horror-filled eyes on Jason. Behind me, I heard Ashley snicker.

“We never covered it.” Jason looked stricken. “They assumed we all knew it already, which I thought everyone did.”

Whitney’s eyes squeezed shut.

Beyond the curtain, the crowd stirred as another woman took the mic.

“Guys!” Hi had poked his head through the curtains. “Botox Lady is up. I think you’re on.”

Shelton danced on the balls of his feet. Ben looked at me helplessly.

I knew there was a bomb in the building. I knew the ball was meaningless in the face of that danger. But at that moment, I was more terrified of making a public fool of myself than anything the Gamemaster had contrived.

Whitney’s eyes snapped open.

She grabbed my shoulders. “Pay attention!” Then she scooted backward, took a deep breath, and adopted a wide pageant smile. “Like so.”

Dipping her chin demurely, Whitney bent her knees and swept one foot behind the other, fanning an imaginary skirt with one hand. Her head dropped gracefully and she held a beat, then rose, smile never shifting an inch all the way.

Quite a feat in her tourniquet dress. Marshals grinned in appreciation.

“Got it?” Whitney hissed, wringing her hands.

“Can you show me again?”

More applause from inside. Then the scrape of shifting chairs.

“No time.” Whitney nodded to Ben and Jason. “Which marshal escorts you off?”

“Do what now?” It was all getting to be too much.

Whitney physically repressed a scream. “One of them must take your hand from Kit, and then walk you the hell out of the room. Which. One?”

“I don’t . . . I haven’t . . .”

My blood pressure spiked. I wobbled. Spots peppered the edge of my vision.

Ben lurched forward to catch my elbow. “Jason will escort her.”

Unable to speak, I thanked him with my eyes.

“You’ll do great,” Ben whispered, patting my hand. “Just picture them all in their underwear.” I gave a decidedly unladylike snort.

Ben turned to Jason. “You know the drill. Get it done.”

Jason nodded and moved into position beside me.

I stole one glance at the Swan Lake parade behind me. Ashley flashed her vicious predatory smile, all but confirming why she’d skipped back and made me walk first. She was hoping I’d humiliate myself.

For some reason, that realization brought back my composure.

“Walk down, turn, curtsy, wait for Kit.” I straightened my shoulders as the curtain parted. “Up and back, then Jason comes and walks me out. Right?”

“Yes!” Whitney crushed me with a bear hug. “You’ll be great!”

A third female voice boomed from the loudspeakers.

I rolled my shoulders, bounced twice on my toes.

“Let’s do this.”

My hand shot out, found Whitney’s. Gave it a quick squeeze.

Then, body tingling, I started down the aisle.





CHAPTER 44





“Ladies and gentlemen, please allow me to present: Miss Victoria Grace Brennan.”

Applause.

Behind me, Ashley leaned close to whisper in my ear. “Don’t choke, Boat Girl.”

I almost laughed. “Step off, bitch.”

I didn’t think, didn’t pause to reflect. I began pacing the catwalk with all the poise I could muster, thankful the floor-length gown concealed my shaking legs.

Back straight. Smile plastered. Arms slightly bent and held out to the sides to accentuate the lines of my dress. I counted off steps in my head, determined to neither run nor lag. Then I spotted a small X taped to the center of the dance floor.

The curtsy spot.

I visualized Whitney’s move. Seemed simple enough. Why not a test drive with all of Charleston watching?

Shoving that thought aside, I reached the mark.

Halted.

Turned.

You can do this.

As gracefully as I could manage, I sank into the bow. Time slowed. My head dropped gently until I was staring at the parquet. Pulse racing, I waited two full beats as Whitney had done.

Cameras flashed. Someone coughed.

Silence. Had I done it right? Or was everyone embarrassed for me and choking back laughter?

Precariously balanced, eyes glued to the floor, I had no idea.

Who cares? There’s a freaking bomb in the building, and I don’t know where.

Then, as I gazed at the hardwood, the answer hit home.

Where did the Gamemaster’s clues always lead?

Down. Underground.

Deep, dark places.

The bowels of Castle Pinckney. An earthen hole. An ancient, subterranean crypt.

We hadn’t searched below the first floor. That’s where The Danger must be!

The bomb is right beneath my feet. Ticking away.

I straightened, outwardly calm by force of will alone. Every eye in the room was on me. Gauging. Judging. Determining if I belonged.