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He whisks me past the gaggle of women into the middle of the grand foyer. The walls are wood-panelled, and a sweeping staircase in the middle splits in two directions with a family coat of arms proudly displayed on the wall. I hate it. It reminds me of the Bexley mansion with its stuffed animal heads and pompous art.
A woman hurries over to us. She’s wearing a mermaid-cut red dress that makes her waddle. Her hair is styled into a ridiculous updo on top of her head, with more extensions than natural hair.
Seb groans. “Incoming.”
“Sebastian!” the woman drawls from underneath her red-beaked mask. She dive-bombs his face like a sparrowhawk with more air kisses than necessary. Aren’t four air kisses something the French do? I should have brushed up on etiquette before attending. “It’s simply delightful to see you!”
She acts like I don’t exist.
“Beatrice,” he says. “It’s been too long.”
“Not long enough,” I mutter under my breath.
Thankfully, a nearby harpist drowns out my remark from Beatrice, but Seb splutters in amusement.
“We simply must get together soon for a proper catch-up.” She pauses, and her frosty glare looks me up and down. “I see you’ve brought a prop.”
A prop? If I didn’t have a mission, I’d claw out her eyeballs and feed them to the horse I’m sure she owns.
“I’m Rose. It’s lovely to meet you,” I reply, opting to kill her with kindness instead. She makes a harumphing noise. Fine, if she wants to act petty, then so can I. “Have you known Seb for a while? He’s never mentioned you to me.”
Her nostrils flare. Good, I’ve rattled her. She turns back to Seb, ignoring me altogether. “Daddy would like to speak to you this evening,” she says. “He has a fantastic business proposition.”
When she says proposition, it sounds like ‘prop-ah-si-shunnnn’. It must take her twice as long to say sentences as most people. Listening to her talk for any length of time would be enough to drive anyone insane. It’s more torturous than getting your fingernails ripped off.
“I’m sure I’ll catch him tonight,” Seb says.
“I’ll introduce you now, darling,” Beatrice insists, “but it’s sensitive, so perhaps you can talk to him alone?”
She looks at me pointedly to make it clear I’m not wanted.
“Rose is staying with me tonight,” he says, gripping my hand so tightly I’m afraid he’ll crush my fingers.
“But you can’t keep Lord McGowan waiting.” She pouts.Lord McGowan is her father?Producing devil spawn is another reason to hate him. “Daddy won’t be here for long as he has to catch a flight in the early hours.”
She pronounces hour like ‘are’ as if a dentist has asked her to open wide to get a look at her tonsils.
“It’s okay,” I tell Seb, “I’ll be fine here.”
His jaw tenses. He doesn’t want to leave me, but he has to blend in. This is his world and livelihood. “Rose—”
“Don’t worry, Sebastian,” Beatrice cuts him off. “You’ll still be getting your money’s worth. She can’t have been expensive.”
I’ll mount her head on the wall if she's not careful.
“I’ll be fine,” I insist, extracting my fingers from his. If she thinks I’m a hooker, she definitely won’t expect me to cause any mayhem. “I’ll wait for you here. What’s the worst that can happen?”
A smug smile spreads over Beatrice’s face, thinking she’s won. She shoots a smugI told you soglance at a group of her friends watching nearby as she latches herself onto Seb’s arm.
“I’ll be right back,” Seb promises.
I stand in the corner and watch her lead Seb to a portly man who resembles Henry VIII—not the sexy version you see on TV, but the one with a red face and enormous belly. A young woman hangs off of the Lord’s arm, laughing at everything he says when we all know it’s not funny. She’s paid to be there. How can he live like this after what he’s done? He hasn’t faced the consequences of his actions, but he will tonight. I don’t know what’s in the package, but I know Callen enough to be sure justice will be served, but I also have another mission tonight.
While Seb is busy, I begin my checks. I meander through throngs of people, pretending to admire the art. I find two doors leading off the foyer: one is locked, and the other opens to a grand parlour that resembles a set from Downton Abbey.
“Oh, it’s him!” A nearby group squeaks. “Look!”
Seeing the Prince of England with an entourage of security doesn’t excite me, but someone else catches my eye behind him.
