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The men bowed over Annalise’s hand before turning toward Blake.
“It’s so good to see you back in the clubs. I assume we are going to see you there more frequently now?” Bradshaw asked.
Annalise’s hand tensed on Blake’s arm.
“Perhaps,” Blake gritted out.
He watched Jarvis intently. The man didn’t look out of sorts. He seemed collected and well-groomed.
“We still haven’t heard the story about where you have been hiding,” Bradshaw continued relentlessly.
Blake knew he’d have to answer the incessant questioning, but after getting hit by reminders during their visit to Hades, he wasn’t in the mood, and there were other things on his mind.
“I shall regale you with all the details later,” Blake answered swiftly. “And perhaps Jarvis can tell us where he disappeared to last night.”
Jarvis raised a brow but otherwise didn’t miss a beat. “I got myself a nice, warm wench,” he replied with a wink.
“Is that also what you did when you disappeared?” Bradshaw turned to Blake.
Annalise stilled beside him, and Blake cursed Bradshaw for his thoughtless words. This was not the time for questioning Jarvis, however. Neither could he quench Bradshaw’s curiosity. That would have to wait. “Not at all,” he answered with a pleasant smile. “I shall tell you all, gentlemen, as soon as I am done with the receiving line. For now, I have a duty as a host.”
“Oh, of course, of course. Did not mean to keep you from your duties.” Bradshaw sketched a theatrical bow, and both he and Jarvis disappeared into the throng of guests.
“I don’t think I ever liked that man,” Blake grumbled under his breath.
When they were finally done with the receiving line, Annalise disengaged from him and went on to chat with the guests, while Blake went to the refreshments table and eyed the bottles of wine. He poured himself a glass of punch instead. He sipped it, pretending it was wine, pretending it had the same soothing effect on his mind.
He gazed across the ballroom at his wife, who fluttered like a butterfly from one cluster of matrons to another, greeting them with a sunny smile on her face. He had to join her. It was not only the polite thing to do—or what he was supposed to do both as a host and a man who’d returned from a long absence—it was something he wanted to do. To be by his wife’s side at all times was his fervent wish. She drew him to her, and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off her. But he couldn’t do it. Not at the moment.
His energies were so low, his mood so foul, he would bark at a shriveled old lady the moment she hinted at his disappearance. He was a curiosity everyone wanted to learn about. They whispered about him behind their fans. And they needed his story to feed the gossip. There was nothing wrong with that. That was how their society lived and functioned.
Only they had no earthly idea about the horrors Blake had gone through, or they wouldn’t be asking. And willingly throwing himself into the pit of his dark memories wasn’t something Blake looked forward to doing.
“Are you all right?” Jarvis appeared at his elbow.
Blake choked on his punch and coughed into his fist. Jarvis clapped him good-naturedly on the back.
“Didn’t mean to startle you. Apologies,” he said with a grin.
Blake took out the handkerchief and wiped at his teary eyes. “That’s all right. I was lost in thought. Didn’t see you approaching.”
“I am just here to warn you that gentlemen are determined to get the account of your disappearance out of you,” he said sotto voce. “I hope you have a story prepared.”
Blake took another sip of his drink and gave a slight nod.
True to Jarvis’s word, soon Blake was surrounded by a crowd of gentlemen, all eager to finally hear the story of Blake’s whereabouts for the past year and a half. Blake’s panicked gaze landed on Annalise.
She must have felt his turmoil because she turned to him at that same moment and gave him a reassuring smile. Blake took a breath. For a moment, everything disappeared: the crowd, the noise, the ballroom. All he could see was Annalise. All he could hear was his heartbeat slowing down, steadying under the calming gaze of his wife. He could do it. He could beat his anxiety and get through this day with her by his side. With her, he could get through anything.
Blake concentrated on Annalise’s face, imagining their future. Many more balls like these, many more nights in bed with her. If he had a choice, he’d stalk right through the crowd, pick her up, and carry her to the first solitary room. He’d have her against the door, or table, or any furniture in sight. Hell, he’d settle for cuddling her close to him or even just holding her hand at that moment. He needed her reassuring warmth beside him.
But he couldn’t have that. At least, not yet. They’d have many quiet evenings and passionate nights ahead of them once he found the people behind his disappearance, once some other scandal stole the attention of gossips.
All he needed to do was weave an articulate story for the benefit of irksome lords—a lie—so they’d leave him alone and never ask about his experiences again.
So he winked at his wife and turned back to the men around him.
“It’s a long story, gentlemen, and not for the ears of gentle ladies. So shall we adjourn to the card room?”
