24. Thea
24
Thea
I wandered through Blackwood Manor in a daze. Everywhere I turned, guests wearing expensive ballgowns and jeweled masks mingled, making polite conversation. A few curious glances passed over me as I slipped outside, needing to catch my breath.
The gardens were impressive, featuring meticulously manicured hedges, lush borders, and lawns leading down to an ornamental lake, where boats bobbed. There was even a topiary maze.
Despite the colorful lanterns and flaming Tiki torches, the gardens creeped me out. Stone statues lurked in dark corners, casting ominous shadows. On a sunny day, the gardens were probably a lovely place to hang in, but at night, away from the house, it was eerie as hell out here.
Most of the younger guests had come outside, where the music and laughter were louder and the inhibitions lower. As my eyes grew accustomed to the low light, I saw a couple slink away, giggling, toward the trees, no doubt preparing to get freaky.
The air reeked of lust and weed. Indoors, the music leaned more toward classical, but here, people were dancing to club music, grinding on each other while smoking and drinking.
Like always, I felt like an outsider looking in. I wasn’t part of this crowd. I knew nobody here, other than Cassian and his friends.
I tried to remind myself that blending into the scenery was a good thing. I stood a better chance of completing my task if people didn’t notice me. Even if the thought of murdering Lucian Forsyth made my stomach curdle. Sure, he wasn’t a good man, but he was still Cassian’s father. For all I knew, they had a close bond, and losing his father to a violent act would destroy his life.
But I couldn’t afford to get caught up in the morality of what I needed to do.
I forced all the uncomfortable thoughts in my head down and buried them in a locked box. This was a job. Nothing more. Nothing less.
There had been no sign of the guys, although quite a few people had mentioned Cassian’s name in passing. Most guests I’d overheard appeared baffled by his engagement to Camilla. It seemed as if she wasn’t popular.
“…I thought he hated her,” one girl had whispered to her friend when I walked past.
“She’s a dog,” the friend agreed.
I snatched a glass of something alcoholic from a passing server’s tray and sat down on a stone bench under a large tree. It was far enough away from the party that nobody could see me, but close enough to observe…and listen.
Father wanted me to check out Lucian Forsyth’s study, but it was too early to be snooping around. I needed to wait until most of the older guests had retired and the younger ones were too drunk to care about anything.
My black dress helped me blend into the shadows, and after a while, I relaxed and sipped my champagne. Which was delicious, by the way. My phone vibrated from inside my clutch, so I pulled it out to check the screen.
Eden: having a ball? Lol
She’d gone back to Ireland this weekend to visit her family. Otherwise, she’d have been here with me as my plus one. Part of me was relieved she wasn’t here - her presence would have made it impossible to sneak around - but I couldn’t help but think it might have been fun having her with me. If nothing else, her kooky observations were entertaining.
Me: All very Bridgerton.
Eden: Find yourself an Anthony Bridgerton and smash that zaddy.
I laughed to myself.
Me: Everyone’s wearing a mask. I might end up kissing a frog.
Eden: Who cares if he’s rich and packing? Lol
Me: *roll eyes emoji*
Honestly, the girl was obsessed with my sex life. No matter how many times I’d told her Landon and I were not a thing, she refused to believe me.
Eden: Seen the guys yet?
Me: No sign of them.
Eden: Listen out for the braying donkey. That’ll be Camilla.
Ouch. From what I’d seen in the engagement photos, Camilla wasn’t that bad. Not quite on Cassian’s level of attractiveness, but not awful. Maybe her personality was lacking?
Me: Meow. Jealous you’re not the future Mrs Forsyth?
Eden: Damn right. *crying emoji*
I drained the last of my champagne and stood. The air had cooled, and I was breaking out in goosebumps. I was also hungry, so it was time to go in search of food.
My dress swished around my thighs as I picked my way across the lawn, avoiding cavorting couples and threesomes. A few sets of eyes lingered on me, but I ignored all of them.
With a pretty mask hiding my face, and a long red wig concealing my black hair, there was no way anyone would know who I was unless I told them.
The lack of actual food at this fucking party was disappointing. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. Upper-class ladies were well known for subsisting on lettuce and lemon water. Although with weight loss injections the new normal, starvation diets were less of a thing now.
I picked at a few appetizers and shoved as many in my mouth as I could swallow. Caviar was not my favorite snack, but I was desperate. It wasn’t until the last small pastry went down that I sensed someone watching me.
The skin on the back of my neck prickled. I’d always trusted my gut, and right now, my gut told me whoever had their eyes on me was not a friend.
Not wanting to alert my new stalker, I turned away from the table and headed toward the open doors that led back out onto the terrace. I stumbled slightly, in an approximation of being drunk, mostly to see if the guy was a predator or someone who liked to ogle women from a distance.
The terrace was empty. During the day, I imagined the views from here were amazing, but it was fully dark now, so there wasn’t much to see other than fire pits and drunk people dancing on the lawn.
Light footsteps alerted me to a man’s presence.
“I don’t believe we’ve met.” A voice as smooth as silk and a cut-glass accent proclaimed him as a member of the British upper-class set.
“Hi!” I chirruped brightly. “My name’s Dora!”
Lucian Forsyth. It seemed that luck was on my side tonight.
Cassian’s father was handsome with his dirty blond hair, blue eyes, and a broad frame. I could see where Cassian had got his looks from. To my surprise, he wasn’t wearing a mask, which was odd. So far, everyone I’d seen apart from the really drunk people were all still wearing their jeweled masks.
“I’m Lucien, your host, my dear.”
I hid my nerves with an inane giggle. While I knew I’d have to find Lucian at some point, I hadn’t expected to actually meet him yet. I figured he’d be schmoozing with his friends and colleagues, not stalking vulnerable guests like a fucking serial killer. And besides, I had planned to do a sweep of his study before I offed him.
Considering how important this man was, he didn’t seem at all concerned about being discovered talking to a young woman, alone, with his wife nowhere in sight. I guessed he felt untouchable, given this was his home.
It made me wonder what else he got away with in plain sight.
“I don’t recognize your name, dear,” Lucian said, stepping closer and effectively boxing me in, out of sight behind a stone pillar. I gripped my clutch like my life depended on it. There was no way I could murder Lucian out here, with hundreds of guests a few feet away. Yes, the terrace was currently empty, but someone could push open the doors at any second.
“I came with my friend Annabelle Sloan.” I’d read about Annabelle in the society pages last night and knew it was highly likely she was on the guest list. The woman frequently popped up in the society pages, drunk and draped over some Hooray Henry.
The gossip websites were full of paparazzi photos of her with Cassian at the same events over the years. Of course, if Annabelle was currently sunning herself in the Maldives, it would derail my story, but I strongly suspected Lucian didn’t give a fuck about his son’s friends and whether they’d bothered showing up for a ball.
“Ah, Annabelle. You must give her my regards. I owe her father a game of golf one of these days.” He chuckled, and I laughed too, hoping he lost interest in me and left.
Instead, he leaned in closer and fucking sniffed my neck like a total creep. Never had the urge to kill a man been so strong. This man was a stone-cold predator, and I wondered how many women he’d abused over the years.
“You smell divine, my dear,” he murmured in a low voice. “And that dress is…lovely.”
I seriously wanted to kill Eden right now. The dress she’d insisted I wore was lovely, but it barely covered my cleavage, which Lucian seemed overly interested in.
He stared at my breasts with such intensity I couldn’t help but cringe with discomfort. I was no stranger to men staring at my tits. It had been that way since I hit puberty, but this man was old enough to be my father. And worse, he was Cassian’s father.
Eww. Gross.
“I should probably go find Annabelle,” I tittered, flicking my fake red hair over my shoulder to hide my cleavage. It wasn’t the right time. I needed to wait. Catch Lucian off-guard later, when he was drunk and well away from the other guests.
“I’d prefer it if you stayed, my dear,” he said with a creepy smile. One hand reached out and stroked my cheek before sliding south and resting on the swell of my tits. “Are these real?”
“Excuse me?” Anger threatened to unravel my drunk girl persona, and I had to force myself not to hit the nuclear button. The blade strapped to my thigh was within reach. It wouldn’t take much effort to fillet this pervert from crotch to chest.
The more he talked, the less guilt I felt about doing my father’s dirty work. While I didn’t feel great about potentially hurting Cassian, Lucian Forsyth was a stain on society. Filth of the worst kind.
How dare he prey on a young, drunk girl!
OK, so I was only one of those things, but still. If I had been drunk and vulnerable, I would likely have shit a brick by now.
“Are these real?” Lucian repeated more slowly, just in case I hadn’t understood the first time. “So many girls these days have work done. It’s such a shame.”
“All mine,” I forced out. “Now if you’ll excuse me, Annabelle is bound to be looking for me and I really need to go. It’s been lovely meeting you, Mr. Forsyth.”
I tried to push past him, but Lucian was very solid for a middle-aged dude. I guess now I knew where Cassian inherited his broad physique from. Thank fuck he hadn’t inherited his father’s sociopathy, too.
“Not so fast, Dora. You’re my guest, so I’d like to get to know such a pretty young woman better.”
“Please let me go,” I said in a low voice, injecting a thread of fear into it to see how he reacted. Sure enough, as I expected, his eyes lit up like the predator he was. I bet he loved making women cry. He was probably the sort of predator who got off on the chase.
I knew all about men like that. Torrance was one of them. The key to handling them was never show a trace of fear.
Lucian thought I was a sweet little lamb, ripe for the slaughter. He was about to have a rude awakening.
As Lucian pressed me against the stone balcony, distracted by my boobs, I reached down for my knife. Then a loud cough from the doorway made us both jump.
“Father, a word, please,” a familiar voice said.