friend,” Priscilla supplied, “Miss
Ariadne Courdebas.”
He took Ariadne’s hand and bowed over it.
“The pleasure is all mine.” He squeezed her fingers and glanced up
at her with a secret smile.
Was that a sign? Was he trying to tell her
he was the man she sought? She met his gaze, admiring the sparkling
green of his eyes.
Ariadne blinked, pulling back her hand. “How
kind. Well, enjoy your evening.” She turned and walked away.
Daphne scurried after her. “Why are you
leaving? You had him where you wanted him.”
Ariadne shook her head. “Unfortunately, I
found I did not want him. His eyes are the wrong color.”
Daphne deflated. “Well, fah!” She
brightened. “But you still have three more to go.”
Three more? She wasn’t sure she could go
through with such a mortifying performance again.
Priscilla seemed to agree. “I smoothed
things over,” she said as she and Emily rejoined them. “I told him
that he had been far too bold and to remember to treat a lady more
civilly in the future. With any luck, he’ll beg your pardon when
next you meet.”
“I don’t want his apology,” Ariadne
protested. “I don’t want anything to do with him. I’m not even sure
I should be here.” She glanced at the clock, which showed the hour
as nearing nine. She would never last until ten.
Priscilla and Emily were debating what to do
next. Ariadne put out a hand. “For all I love the stage, I was
never meant to be on it. The night is warm. I’ll simply wait on the
balcony.”
“Are you certain?” Emily pressed. “What if
he’s a dastard with homicidal tendencies?”
“Or a man obsessed with women’s dancing
slippers?” Daphne added.
“I’ll be fine,” Ariadne assured them. “He’s
already protected me once. I feel certain he will do so again.”
“And what of your attacker?” Emily
countered, eyes narrowed. “What if he seeks you out instead?”
“I highly doubt such a villain would be
admitted to the Caldecott ball,” Ariadne told them. “But if you are
concerned, station yourselves near the door. If anyone save Freddie
Pulsipher, Mr. Cunningham, Sir Damon, or Lord Hawksbury enters the
balcony behind me, sound the alarm.”
Chapter
Seven
What was she doing? Nodding to an
acquaintance, he strolled closer to the doors of the balcony. He’d
watched her since the moment she’d arrived, noticing to whom she
spoke, determining who else watched her. There was no lack of
admiration tonight, not with her in that green dress that whispered
of womanly curves and set her hair to shining. She didn’t seem to
notice. Indeed, the only man who had received any attention from
her was Archibald Stump, and that attention hadn’t lasted longer
than the moment she’d looked into his eyes. It was rather
gratifying to know she was more interested in finding him.
But to wait alone on the balcony a good hour
before they were to meet was only inviting trouble. He didn’t think
his quarry moved in high enough circles to gain admittance as a
guest to the Caldecott ball, but that didn’t mean the fellow hadn’t
sneaked in among the press of the crowd or slipped through an
unlatched window. Even now, he could be hiding in a forgotten
corner.
Like a blocked off balcony.
There was nothing for it. He’d have to
reveal himself sooner than planned, if only to keep her safe. He
couldn’t help the thrill of pleasure as he moved toward the
door.
*
Ariadne realized she was drumming her
fingers on the stone balustrade and forced herself to stop. For one
thing, the movement was better suited to a villain planning dire
deeds than a heroine pining for her true love. For another, it
didn’t do the least bit of good in calming her nerves. She only
wished she’d brought her journal and pencil that she might record
her thoughts. Writing always focused her, took her away for a
moment to another world where good triumphed and right was never
inconvenienced by a stone in a slipper or the too much chocolate
before
Learning to Kill: Stories