going to kiss him?” Jo asked.
“Kiss? What did I miss?” Thea asked, pushing forward with three glasses of punch.
“Mr. Midnight.” She willed herself not to look behind her. She knew he was there, somewhere. Perhaps watching her, perhaps not. But she shouldn’t look.
Truthfully, she shouldn’t even remain at the masquerade any longer. She should return to her rooms at Mivart’s Hotel and prepare more plans for how she was going to find Woolstone and the Madonna dye. A nd, if it was true A lex Laurie had gotten to him first, how she was going to get the dye away from him.
Eight months. Nearly eight months she’d spent searching out clues for the identity of the Madonna dye’s creator—a dye which could bring the owner a massive amount of wealth and which would be the key to her freedom. Eight months, only to discover the possibility that A lex Laurie might have swooped in before she could meet with Woolstone. Excessively galling and infuriating, that’s what it was. She could only hope she was wrong and that Woolstone had gone missing for an entirely different reason. Not because he was murdered—that wouldn’t have been good, either . . . although at least she wouldn’t have lost to A lex then.
Willa felt her conscience turning a darker shade of gray. No, of course she Willa felt her conscience turning a darker shade of gray. No, of course she wouldn’t prefer for Woolstone to be murdered. Even she wasn’t that focused on winning. Perhaps.
Besides, if Woolstone was murdered, she might never find the dye, and then she’d have to marry Eichel after all. Somehow this still felt entirely too selfish.
“I liked Mr. Midnight earlier,” Thea said, frowning.
A t this mention of the dashing Mr. Midnight, Willa swiftly sent up a plea that Woolstone was alive and far, far away from A lex Laurie, then returned her attention to her companions.
“Why do you not like him now?” she asked.
“Because then I saw him speaking with Lunsford. A nd anyone who willingly speaks to Lunsford must be reconsidered, I believe. Even if he is very nice, and even if he does have a very nice mouth and wants to kiss you.” She didn’t like the thought of Thea noticing Mr. Midnight’s mouth. A lthough it was difficult to notice anything else at the masquerade, she wanted to hide him away for her own pleasure. She alone would be able to look at his mouth and have him hold her in his arms while they danced and then tell her nice things like she was an innocent who deserved to be courted.
“Perhaps . . . ,” she began, then hesitated. Charming women was just as useful as charming men, and it wouldn’t do well to offend her new friend. “Perhaps Mr.
Lunsford only reacts badly in your presence. There’s a possibility he’s usually as nice and decent as Mr. Midnight.”
“Oh, I’m certain Lunsford behaves poorly specifically around me and nicely to others. It’s a pretense he’s perfected, and one he knows that I’ve seen thr—”
“No, thank you.”
Willa glanced toward Jo, who was glaring at a man wearing a navy cape lined beneath with silver, a matching navy and silver mask tied around his head. The man currently had Jo’s hand lifted halfway to his mouth.
Jo tugged at her hand. “Let me go.”
“I don’t see why she came to the masquerade if she doesn’t intend to dance with anyone,” Thea murmured to Willa.
Jo gave them an exasperated glance, then stomped on the man’s foot. Thea gasped.
“Bloody hell,” he cursed, immediately dropping her hand. He backed away, matching her glare.
Jo turned and shrugged. “He shouldn’t touch people’s hands when they haven’t given him permission to do so.”
A corner of Willa’s mouth tugged upward. “I’m sure he’ll think better of it next time.”
“Jo . . . I believe you just tried to maim none other than the Duke of A ulburn,” Thea said.
A ll of the blood leached from Jo’s face. “A d-duke?” she whispered.
Thea nodded. “Everyone
“Kiss? What did I miss?” Thea asked, pushing forward with three glasses of punch.
“Mr. Midnight.” She willed herself not to look behind her. She knew he was there, somewhere. Perhaps watching her, perhaps not. But she shouldn’t look.
Truthfully, she shouldn’t even remain at the masquerade any longer. She should return to her rooms at Mivart’s Hotel and prepare more plans for how she was going to find Woolstone and the Madonna dye. A nd, if it was true A lex Laurie had gotten to him first, how she was going to get the dye away from him.
Eight months. Nearly eight months she’d spent searching out clues for the identity of the Madonna dye’s creator—a dye which could bring the owner a massive amount of wealth and which would be the key to her freedom. Eight months, only to discover the possibility that A lex Laurie might have swooped in before she could meet with Woolstone. Excessively galling and infuriating, that’s what it was. She could only hope she was wrong and that Woolstone had gone missing for an entirely different reason. Not because he was murdered—that wouldn’t have been good, either . . . although at least she wouldn’t have lost to A lex then.
Willa felt her conscience turning a darker shade of gray. No, of course she Willa felt her conscience turning a darker shade of gray. No, of course she wouldn’t prefer for Woolstone to be murdered. Even she wasn’t that focused on winning. Perhaps.
Besides, if Woolstone was murdered, she might never find the dye, and then she’d have to marry Eichel after all. Somehow this still felt entirely too selfish.
“I liked Mr. Midnight earlier,” Thea said, frowning.
A t this mention of the dashing Mr. Midnight, Willa swiftly sent up a plea that Woolstone was alive and far, far away from A lex Laurie, then returned her attention to her companions.
“Why do you not like him now?” she asked.
“Because then I saw him speaking with Lunsford. A nd anyone who willingly speaks to Lunsford must be reconsidered, I believe. Even if he is very nice, and even if he does have a very nice mouth and wants to kiss you.” She didn’t like the thought of Thea noticing Mr. Midnight’s mouth. A lthough it was difficult to notice anything else at the masquerade, she wanted to hide him away for her own pleasure. She alone would be able to look at his mouth and have him hold her in his arms while they danced and then tell her nice things like she was an innocent who deserved to be courted.
“Perhaps . . . ,” she began, then hesitated. Charming women was just as useful as charming men, and it wouldn’t do well to offend her new friend. “Perhaps Mr.
Lunsford only reacts badly in your presence. There’s a possibility he’s usually as nice and decent as Mr. Midnight.”
“Oh, I’m certain Lunsford behaves poorly specifically around me and nicely to others. It’s a pretense he’s perfected, and one he knows that I’ve seen thr—”
“No, thank you.”
Willa glanced toward Jo, who was glaring at a man wearing a navy cape lined beneath with silver, a matching navy and silver mask tied around his head. The man currently had Jo’s hand lifted halfway to his mouth.
Jo tugged at her hand. “Let me go.”
“I don’t see why she came to the masquerade if she doesn’t intend to dance with anyone,” Thea murmured to Willa.
Jo gave them an exasperated glance, then stomped on the man’s foot. Thea gasped.
“Bloody hell,” he cursed, immediately dropping her hand. He backed away, matching her glare.
Jo turned and shrugged. “He shouldn’t touch people’s hands when they haven’t given him permission to do so.”
A corner of Willa’s mouth tugged upward. “I’m sure he’ll think better of it next time.”
“Jo . . . I believe you just tried to maim none other than the Duke of A ulburn,” Thea said.
A ll of the blood leached from Jo’s face. “A d-duke?” she whispered.
Thea nodded. “Everyone
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