Kate can feel Victoria’s eyes on her from the moment she sets foot in the room.
She’s on her metaphorical throne, surrounded by her sycophantic ladies. It makes sense that Peter would gravitate to the belle of the proverbial ball. She can’t really say she’s surprised. But there’s an intensity to her stare now that she’s never deemed worthy of gracing Kate with in the past. In fact, they’ve rarely had occasion to interact, but from the announcement, the eyes bore into her like hot coals on her shoulder blades.
“Lady Katherine Argent, wife of the Earl of Fairveiw and her escort, Marcellus Gerard.”
A murmur flows through the room at Marcel’s presence, and his amusement shows on his face. Victoria tracks them as they move through the room to the dance floor, interrupted by the Lord of manor hosting.
“Lady Argent, I’m so sorry I didn’t expect you coming.”
“You couldn’t have. I didn’t know I was coming until this morning.” Which is true. Marcel had to talk her into it, saying that he could make sure she stayed alive in public just as well as he could in private. He wants to have fun before she leaves, and she assumes the party will be harmless enough. No one completely hates her here.
Save for one woman, at least.
“All the same, unfortunately, the only room we could arrange for you and your escort is at the Hale table. Since your families are … allies, I felt it would be appropriate.”
“Of course. Lead the way.”
The lord squirms a little too much for her taste, even if he had good reason to fear her family. All the same, the sooner he’s gone, the better for her general experience. And when he leads them directly to Victoria’s table where she’s holding court, she has the pleasure of watching the annoyance on her face drain from confusion to contempt.
“Lady Argent. I wasn’t aware you would join us.”
“I’m just full of surprises,” she chides, as Marcel pulls her seat out for her. “Marcel, have you had the pleasure of meeting Lady Delmonde?”
“I have not.” Marcel smiles as he reaches for the other woman’s hand and brushing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, the epitome of courtly manners even though he doesn’t have a title to his name. “A pleasure, milady.”
Victoria offers him a tense, but polite smile, before waving off her gaggle of women to leave the three of them alone, at least for now. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Gerard. Can I ask how you and Lady Argent know each other?”
“Oh, we’ve crossed paths a few times and enjoy each other’s company.” Marcel glances over his shoulder to the rest of the party. “I thought this was the Hales’ table.” Kate can hear the sly implication of ‘what is this woman doing here?’ in his tone, and Kate tries to suppress the quiet thrill as Victoria flusters.
“Lord Hale and I are betrothed.” Her course corrects a little too quickly. Marcel raises an eyebrow before straightening.
“Oh, no, Lady Delmonde. I meant no slight against you. I only recently made Lord Hale’s acquaintance. I quite enjoyed his company and was hoping he would join us.”
“Oh.” Victoria seems quite off her game. Maybe she should have kept some of her worker bees around as a buffer, but she didn’t. She drops right into the pit with people like Kate and Marcel, and as much as she is the belle of the ball, she doesn’t quite know how to swim with sharks. Kate almost feels bad for her. Almost. “Lord Hale will be here shortly. He had some business matters to attend to with the Earl.”
“Of course.” Kate turns to Marcel, placing her hand over his. “Why don’t you find us some wine? It’s been a long few days, and I could use a drink.”
“As my lady requests.”
Marcel sweeps away from the table, putting Kate and Victoria on more even ground. If she recognizes the advantage that Kate has given her, she doesn’t say it. Instead, she turns her eyes fully on Kate, determination set in her jaw.
“If you would be so kind, Lady Argent, I would request that you would not call on my soon-to-be husband in such a manner again.”
Kate recognizes that there’s a barrier being set here, one that she would normally have no trouble acknowledging, were it any other man. She knows that what’s being asked of her is to remove herself from Peter’s life and never see him again, because Victoria thinks of her to be a certain kind of woman.
And if Kate is honest with herself, Victoria isn’t wrong about that with most men.
“I wanted nothing untoward with your knight, Lady Delmonde.” Kate tips her head to the side. “I needed help, and he was the only ally available to me.”
“Clearly not, if Mr. Gerard was also with you.”
“That was a fortunate circumstance, but the Hales are my allies, and by the treaty—”
“As if you care about the treaty. You do this because you enjoy making him jump, and knowing he can’t say no.” She grits her teeth as he leans in closer. “Every time you force him to be in your company, he returns frustrated and angry—”
“Most women would be relieved if their husbands came back frustrated when dealing with me.”
“See, that is what I despise about you.”
Kate straightens some, because glib as she may be, word choice is important. “Why Victoria, I didn’t think you were capable of such an emotion.”
Victoria sneers at her before leaning back against her seat. “You have no respect for marriage. Not for other people’s and certainly not for your own. And I will not have you being a thorn in mine.”
“My husband disrespected ours first,” Kate replies smoothly. Plans are already in motion in the back of her mind for how things with that man were going to be resolved. “And I am not some witch, hypnotizing unwilling men into my bed. They make a choice. One that your wolf will never make.”
Kate has no illusions about that. Peter will be loyal, because that’s what werewolves do. Something she likely wouldn’t understand until they were truly married. But Kate understands, because she’s been around werewolves long enough to understand how things work.
She sees Marcel returning with the wine and she gets to her feet. “I call on your betrothed only as an ally and nothing more. Perhaps you should place some trust in him and worry less about me.”
Victoria doesn’t seem convinced, but she doesn’t have time to speak. Marcel arrives at the table, and Kate takes the goblet of wine from him, downing it in one long sip. Once done, she sets it on the table and turns to him.
“I want to dance.”
“Then dance we shall.” Marcel nods to the lady at the table and turns them towards the floor. He waits until they’re on the other side of the room, far out of earshot, before he murmurs at her. “Are you always this much of a hit at parties?”
“Oh, usually, I’m worse,” she smiles, before falling into the familiar steps of the dance. She knows he heard every word of what Victoria said—vampire hearing—but she doesn’t want to talk about it.
“She’s wrong about you, you know.” He leads her into a twirl, before pulling him back to her in time with the steps. “You’re not as heartless as she’d like to believe.”
“I know that,” she sighs. “And you know that. But we wouldn’t want the secret getting out. Wouldn’t want them to accuse me of getting soft.”
As he turns her into the next phase of the dance, she catches sight of Peter, making his way across the room to where Victoria is sitting. She watches as he kisses her hand, and the way he softens completely around her. No man has ever looked at her that way, which is why she is quite confident that Victoria never has to worry about her husband straying.
Marcel pulls her back against him, one arm coming across her waist, and pulling her close. “I think he knows it, too.”
She averts her eyes to the back wall and shakes her head. Part of her, a part buried deep inside of her that wishes to be seen as a person rather than a pawn, beats faster, but she pushes it down, knowing that’s a long shot in the dark.
“Let’s hope you’re wrong about that.” The Hales are the last people she needs, believing she has a heart.
cause it's safer to hold every card | regency au | 1,452
Kate can feel Victoria’s eyes on her from the moment she sets foot in the room.
She’s on her metaphorical throne, surrounded by her sycophantic ladies. It makes sense that Peter would gravitate to the belle of the proverbial ball. She can’t really say she’s surprised. But there’s an intensity to her stare now that she’s never deemed worthy of gracing Kate with in the past. In fact, they’ve rarely had occasion to interact, but from the announcement, the eyes bore into her like hot coals on her shoulder blades.
“Lady Katherine Argent, wife of the Earl of Fairveiw and her escort, Marcellus Gerard.”
A murmur flows through the room at Marcel’s presence, and his amusement shows on his face. Victoria tracks them as they move through the room to the dance floor, interrupted by the Lord of manor hosting.
“Lady Argent, I’m so sorry I didn’t expect you coming.”
“You couldn’t have. I didn’t know I was coming until this morning.” Which is true. Marcel had to talk her into it, saying that he could make sure she stayed alive in public just as well as he could in private. He wants to have fun before she leaves, and she assumes the party will be harmless enough. No one completely hates her here.
Save for one woman, at least.
“All the same, unfortunately, the only room we could arrange for you and your escort is at the Hale table. Since your families are … allies, I felt it would be appropriate.”
“Of course. Lead the way.”
The lord squirms a little too much for her taste, even if he had good reason to fear her family. All the same, the sooner he’s gone, the better for her general experience. And when he leads them directly to Victoria’s table where she’s holding court, she has the pleasure of watching the annoyance on her face drain from confusion to contempt.
“Lady Argent. I wasn’t aware you would join us.”
“I’m just full of surprises,” she chides, as Marcel pulls her seat out for her. “Marcel, have you had the pleasure of meeting Lady Delmonde?”
“I have not.” Marcel smiles as he reaches for the other woman’s hand and brushing a gentle kiss to her knuckles, the epitome of courtly manners even though he doesn’t have a title to his name. “A pleasure, milady.”
Victoria offers him a tense, but polite smile, before waving off her gaggle of women to leave the three of them alone, at least for now. “The pleasure is mine, Mr. Gerard. Can I ask how you and Lady Argent know each other?”
“Oh, we’ve crossed paths a few times and enjoy each other’s company.” Marcel glances over his shoulder to the rest of the party. “I thought this was the Hales’ table.” Kate can hear the sly implication of ‘what is this woman doing here?’ in his tone, and Kate tries to suppress the quiet thrill as Victoria flusters.
“Lord Hale and I are betrothed.” Her course corrects a little too quickly. Marcel raises an eyebrow before straightening.
“Oh, no, Lady Delmonde. I meant no slight against you. I only recently made Lord Hale’s acquaintance. I quite enjoyed his company and was hoping he would join us.”
“Oh.” Victoria seems quite off her game. Maybe she should have kept some of her worker bees around as a buffer, but she didn’t. She drops right into the pit with people like Kate and Marcel, and as much as she is the belle of the ball, she doesn’t quite know how to swim with sharks. Kate almost feels bad for her. Almost. “Lord Hale will be here shortly. He had some business matters to attend to with the Earl.”
“Of course.” Kate turns to Marcel, placing her hand over his. “Why don’t you find us some wine? It’s been a long few days, and I could use a drink.”
“As my lady requests.”
Marcel sweeps away from the table, putting Kate and Victoria on more even ground. If she recognizes the advantage that Kate has given her, she doesn’t say it. Instead, she turns her eyes fully on Kate, determination set in her jaw.
“If you would be so kind, Lady Argent, I would request that you would not call on my soon-to-be husband in such a manner again.”
Kate recognizes that there’s a barrier being set here, one that she would normally have no trouble acknowledging, were it any other man. She knows that what’s being asked of her is to remove herself from Peter’s life and never see him again, because Victoria thinks of her to be a certain kind of woman.
And if Kate is honest with herself, Victoria isn’t wrong about that with most men.
“I wanted nothing untoward with your knight, Lady Delmonde.” Kate tips her head to the side. “I needed help, and he was the only ally available to me.”
“Clearly not, if Mr. Gerard was also with you.”
“That was a fortunate circumstance, but the Hales are my allies, and by the treaty—”
“As if you care about the treaty. You do this because you enjoy making him jump, and knowing he can’t say no.” She grits her teeth as he leans in closer. “Every time you force him to be in your company, he returns frustrated and angry—”
“Most women would be relieved if their husbands came back frustrated when dealing with me.”
“See, that is what I despise about you.”
Kate straightens some, because glib as she may be, word choice is important. “Why Victoria, I didn’t think you were capable of such an emotion.”
Victoria sneers at her before leaning back against her seat. “You have no respect for marriage. Not for other people’s and certainly not for your own. And I will not have you being a thorn in mine.”
“My husband disrespected ours first,” Kate replies smoothly. Plans are already in motion in the back of her mind for how things with that man were going to be resolved. “And I am not some witch, hypnotizing unwilling men into my bed. They make a choice. One that your wolf will never make.”
Kate has no illusions about that. Peter will be loyal, because that’s what werewolves do. Something she likely wouldn’t understand until they were truly married. But Kate understands, because she’s been around werewolves long enough to understand how things work.
She sees Marcel returning with the wine and she gets to her feet. “I call on your betrothed only as an ally and nothing more. Perhaps you should place some trust in him and worry less about me.”
Victoria doesn’t seem convinced, but she doesn’t have time to speak. Marcel arrives at the table, and Kate takes the goblet of wine from him, downing it in one long sip. Once done, she sets it on the table and turns to him.
“I want to dance.”
“Then dance we shall.” Marcel nods to the lady at the table and turns them towards the floor. He waits until they’re on the other side of the room, far out of earshot, before he murmurs at her. “Are you always this much of a hit at parties?”
“Oh, usually, I’m worse,” she smiles, before falling into the familiar steps of the dance. She knows he heard every word of what Victoria said—vampire hearing—but she doesn’t want to talk about it.
“She’s wrong about you, you know.” He leads her into a twirl, before pulling him back to her in time with the steps. “You’re not as heartless as she’d like to believe.”
“I know that,” she sighs. “And you know that. But we wouldn’t want the secret getting out. Wouldn’t want them to accuse me of getting soft.”
As he turns her into the next phase of the dance, she catches sight of Peter, making his way across the room to where Victoria is sitting. She watches as he kisses her hand, and the way he softens completely around her. No man has ever looked at her that way, which is why she is quite confident that Victoria never has to worry about her husband straying.
Marcel pulls her back against him, one arm coming across her waist, and pulling her close. “I think he knows it, too.”
She averts her eyes to the back wall and shakes her head. Part of her, a part buried deep inside of her that wishes to be seen as a person rather than a pawn, beats faster, but she pushes it down, knowing that’s a long shot in the dark.
“Let’s hope you’re wrong about that.” The Hales are the last people she needs, believing she has a heart.