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Victoria snapped her face away from hovering over the edge of the railing in an effort to not be seen from below, and half turned toward the sound.
Several men with cheroots in hand stepped out onto the terrace a distance behind her, and she caught their eyes. One glance at her was all it took. She didn’t recognize any of them. It didn’t matter. By their faces, each of them clearly knew who she was.
The Untouchable One wasn’t to be approached and they well knew that fact. Society had dubbed her with the whispered nickname two years before and it had stuck, just as the meaning of it had.
The gentleman closest to her inclined his head politely, then the group of men moved far off to the opposite end of the terrace instead of descending down the wide marble stairs into the expansive south gardens.
The gravel shifted below the stone banister and she ventured forward a smidge to glance over the railing again.
Lady Frantolewas agitated, her head no longer tilted upward as she pushed away at the man. “No,” she hissed.
Victoria tensed, ready to call out to the men on the opposite end of the terrace. She was fine watching a woman live a life she could not. She wasn’t fine watching a woman live out a nightmare.
Just as her lips parted to call to the group of men for assistance, the man below instantly stopped his movements, taking an exaggerated step back away from Lady Frantole.
Well. That was new.
This wasn’t the first overly insistent man she’d intervened upon. But it was the first man that she’d ever seen listen to the woman saying no.
Lady Frantole’s hand instantly went out, reaching for the man.
He took another step backward, his arms clasping across his chest as he glanced down at her outstretched hand, disgust curling his lip. He looked to her face, his voice low. Bored. “You wanted this, and this is a part of it. Wherever, whenever I say. It doesn’t matter what you heard from above or how scared you are of getting caught. That was your one chance, Lady Frantole, as I retire after the first ‘no.’”
“But—”
“No.” He shook his head.
A huff hissed into the night air from Lady Frantole and she spun to her left, stomping away from the man, her slippers digging heavily into the crushed granite walkway as she disappeared into the gardens.
Victoria had to hold in a chuckle.
Thatwasdifferent.
The man lacked any and all discretion—flaunted his lack of it, even. People went into the gardens—deep into the shrubbery to cover a rendezvous. For all the harsh and imposing stone that forged Wolfbridge Castle, it also had sweeping, beautiful gardens, complete with mazes and evergreen hedges that hid nooks and alcoves. And this was exactly what the gardens were for. Hide the debauchery away.
Yet, not only had the man below thought to pleasure Lady Frantole within earshot of the ballroom, he’d then spoken to her with haughty disdain. If Victoria had heard correctly, she’d even heard amusement in his voice as he’d dismissed Lady Frantole.
Who would do that at Wolfbridge?
Uncle Reiner always kept his invitations onto the estate tight.
Her gaze focused in on the man. From her angle, she couldn’t see much of him. Brown hair, lighter than her own dark chestnut strands. What looked to be a strong profile. Handsome. Broad shoulders. If he wasn’t as tall as her Uncle Reiner, he was close. No paunch to be seen.
Whowasthis man?
He looked up at her. “Like what you saw, silver bell?” His arms unthreaded from his chest as his eyes settled on her face. Not the slightest bit of surprise or umbrage in his look, as though he’d known she was there all along, hovering above, watching. She couldn’t tell the color of his eyes in the shadows. It didn’t matter. His potent stare pierced her straight through, a saber through warm butter.
Instant panic seized her chest. She’d just been caught spying on an overly intimate act like a buffoon.
The instinct to flee back into the ballroom without a word sliced along her bones, but her muscles were frozen by his peculiar magnetic stare that kept her rooted in place.
At a loss, the most ridiculous mumble came out of her mouth. “Sil—silver?”
His stare didn’t leave her face. “Your dress.”
She glanced downward, then her head bobbed for a long moment. Of course, her dress.Silver gauze overlaid white satin, the effect of the fabric dazzling under the ballroom chandeliers.Even out here in the darkness, the light of the torches lining the terrace and the garden pathways sent her dress to glittering.
And apparently, she was shaped like a bell.
