Forged by Love: Even Gods Fall in Love, Book 4 by Lynne Connolly Read Free Book Online Page A

destination and he set off as soon as Fenton rapped on the ceiling. All perfectly acceptable, and all becoming frankly boring.
    Her ward, Susanna, had left her in favour of visiting friends in the country. Susanna would do well. As an immortal and a lovely young woman, she had her own court. Sometimes Virginie missed her, someone to talk to and laugh with.
    The carriage rattled over the cobbles, but they didn’t go far. In fact, the house she was attending tonight was in easy distance of her residence, but it would have been churlish to arrive on foot.
    People waited outside. When they saw her crest on the door of the carriage, a ragged cheer went up. Not unusually, they waited for her. People had paid to see a pair of shoes she’d had made. The cobbler displayed a note in his window for the three days before her servant had picked them up. They collected her leavings, like the fan she’d broken and abandoned at the Royal Exchange, or the handkerchief she’d dropped outside the Pantheon club when she’d stayed there. The footman had stolen and sold three more before Fenton had caught him and reported it to Amidei.
    She climbed down, put on her best air of hauteur and walked inside the gracious house belonging to Lord and Lady Ellesmere—Jupiter and his consort. They were holding a select gathering for the chosen few. In other words, two hundred of the great and good. Since Lord Ellesmere was the de facto Duke of Boscobel, more would be lining up for admittance before the evening was done.
    But not the rabble standing outside. They gathered to watch. Some spent all their time watching and some did it for a living. The evening was moving towards nightfall. Dusk cast its softer light over the creamy white stucco of the house and the waving greenery of the garden at the centre of the square.
    When someone cried “Whore!” Virginie thought they meant another person, until someone else followed it with “French whore!”
    If they only knew. The small dart hit home, but not badly. It stung merely, and she flicked off the emotion while the footman took her hat, cloak and gloves.
    He wasn’t here. But she could sense when Marcus was near, a tingle in her bones that excited her, preparing her for the feverish night to come. For she intended to spend all night in his arms, once they’d fed their addiction by driving everyone here into a similar state. Like emotional leeches. But in a good way, she told herself firmly.
    She was a woman on her own. While she was no murderess, she’d have considered it had she realised she’d achieve this much freedom. And tonight Marcus had promised her something special. She suspected a ring and a proposal. Why should she not accept?
    Exhilaration filled her to her toes when she envisioned the years ahead.
    Greeting acquaintances, Virginie climbed the elegant staircase in search of her host and hostess. And to wait for her lover.
    However, the first person she saw was the man who’d presented her with the exquisite silver rose. The gift she’d treated so badly. Perhaps she’d return it to him. He did not approach her, but she glided to him. After all, she had time and he would hardly ask her to dance again.
    That note of regret slid past her defences, the poignancy and the not-quite-right discomfort clashing with the euphoria that suffused her these days. She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t ignore it.
    He bowed, but to her relief didn’t move away. He provided an interesting contrast to Marcus. Where Marcus was a big cat, all sleek power and threatened violence, Valsgarth was a bear—outright, unleashed strength. Despite the cane, she had no doubt he could destroy anyone he chose with his bare hands.
    Women feared and wanted him; she noted the way they looked at him, calculating and interested. He could have anyone he chose. Except for her, naturally. The past history of their godhead made her wary of him, and in any case, she was spoken for. Even that gentle reminder of the way