Chapter 7
How the hell did flirting with Edwina end in a bet where I’m supposed to sleep with someone who isn’t her? Did she not understand that when I dared her to seduce someone tonight, I meant me? I made it so obvious. Didn’t I?
Not that I want to sleep with her. Of course I don’t. I don’t even like the woman. She’s a nuisance with a temper and my rival in securing the contract I desperately need. That isn’t to say I don’t enjoy her company. More than anything, I like how much she hates me. Which is why I dared her to try to seduce me. Wouldn’t that be a riot?
But no. Instead of reading the subtext of my clear flirtations, she took my bait, added coal and fire to it, and sent it back to me. Of course I had to respond in kind. Add more coal. Add more fire. Again and again.
How the hell did it end in such a ridiculous bet?
I glance at my idiotic little nemesis now. Our party has moved from our table to the bar counter. She’s slumped at the far end, her cheek propped in her hand, spectacles askew. Her eyelids droop, and her head begins to tilt. She’s about to fully nod off but startles awake at the last minute and mumbles something incoherent.
I’m pleased to see the effects of Cloud Dive have run their full course. It serves her right, ignoring my warning. I almost believed her when she said she was perfectly sober, for she was rather sharp during our verbal exchange. Now her delusions of wit and grandeur have fizzled into drowsy incompetence, as Cloud Dive often does to humans.
I’ve seen it firsthand when my sister imbibed behind my back. She stayed up all night writing what she thought was the most brilliant stage play, only to spend the next day heaving up the contents of her stomach. And the script was, of course, complete nonsense. I only gave Edwina the benefit of the doubt because she’s nine-and-twenty, whereas my sister is only nineteen.
Edwina almost nods off again. Her spectacles slide from her face to the counter, and when she startles awake, she goes to push the bridge of her lenses up her nose, but without them there, she jabs herself right between the eyes. She frowns, jabs again, then searches for her fallen spectacles on the counter. The impish grin she makes when she finds them and replaces them has my lips curling in turn.
Not because she’s cute.
There’s nothing cute about that foolish smile or her round flushed cheeks.
Or that tangled auburn hair that she managed to pin in what looks like a bird’s nest on one side of her head.
Or the way she swings her legs on her too-high stool, humming a stupid little tune?—
“William?” Arwen steps into my line of sight, her lovely blue face blocking my view of Edwina.
I shake my head, realizing this isn’t the first time she’s had to say my name. While I’m well into my cups tonight, I haven’t had a drink since Edwina and I made our bet. Word of our bargain quickly spread, which sent a flock of males to my rival. With Monty flitting about the room like a butterfly, someone had to stay sober and keep an eye on Edwina, lest she leave with one of the men.
For the sake of sabotage, of course.
Not for her protection.
Thankfully, it didn’t take long for her faculties to unravel, and she lost her male companions. No decent person would try to bed a drunkard who no longer had the means to consent.
I force my attention to settle on Arwen. “Sorry, love, what were you saying?”
“I asked if it’s true that you’re really a stage actor, as well as a poet.”
I don my winning grin, one that is admittedly growing tired on my visage. “It’s true. I am a stage actor and have been since my days at university.”
“Have you been in anything I would have seen?” Jolene asks.
It takes an effort not to glower at the human girl. She’s practically clung to my side since the bet began, and I’d feel much better if she would have stayed with Edwina to give her some female company.
Again, for the sake of sabotage.
“Big productions aren’t my style,” I say. The words almost burn my tongue, for they aren’t entirely true.
Pureblood fae like me can’t lie.
Unless you’re an actor playing a role.
“I prefer private plays or artistic endeavors,” says William Haywood the Poet, while William Haywood the Stage Actor would give anything to star in a big production.
“I’d love to see a private play,” Jolene says, blinking up at me from under her lashes.
Arwen sidles into her friend and steals my attention. “It’s getting close to midnight.”
I know what she’s getting at. According to the terms of the bet, I must enjoy an act of intimacy in my bedroom by midnight. Arwen and Jolene have been engaged in a competition of their own—who can earn their place in my bed tonight.
Little do they know, I have no intention of participating in anyone’s game. Not Arwen and Jolene’s. Not mine and Edwina’s. She and I may have secured our bargain by verbally agreeing to the terms of the bet—that’s all it takes to make a bargain with a fae—but this farce will be over by morning, I’m sure of it. The little idiot will wake up, remember all her horrible decisions from tonight, and beg me to release her from our bargain. Easy. Done.
Then I can go back to beating her in sales and win the contract on my personal merits.
I may be eager to win—desperate, more like—but I’d prefer to do so with my dignity intact.
“I am growing tired,” Arwen says when I fail to respond. “What I wouldn’t give to have a quiet place to sit down.”
I lean slightly to the side, stealing a glimpse at Edwina. She’s awake, but barely, chatting to someone I can’t quite see. Then the figure—a fae male with a mane of golden hair and a feline nose—leans down and whispers something in her ear.
She laughs, then lets out a startled squeal. “Oh, you have a taaaail!” She drags out the last word too long and too loud. Her eyelids grow heavy again, and I catch sight of the tip of a tan, fur-tufted tail tickling her cheek. The male must be a lion fae in his seelie form. She gives a halfhearted chuckle with her eyes closed. “I’m writing a book about a fae with a tail. You wouldn’t happen to be in love with a surgeon, would you?”
“Oh, I’d love to sit down too,” Jolene says, tugging my sleeve.
“There are plenty of open seats at the end of the bar,” I bite out. If the girl would just fucking keep Edwina company?—
Jolene’s stricken expression snaps me back to my purpose. Shit. I stepped out of my role for a moment and lost my patience. That wasn’t something William Haywood the Poet would say to a pretty woman interested in his writing.
I force a sigh and drop my head. “Those were the last words she said to me,” I say under my breath.
“Who?” Arwen says. She and Jolene exchange a look. “You mean June? The woman your poetry is about? That’s what the title of your book means, doesn’t it? A Portrait of June Etched in Solace. Such a lovely title.”
My gaze is distant as I lift my head. Addressing none of their questions, I say, “Someone I used to know. Blooming hell, it was so long ago now. I just need to sit down. That’s what she said to me. Then she was gone.”
Jolene places a hand on my forearm. “I didn’t mean to dredge up such painful memories.”
“Memories are like broken glass,” I say. “They only hurt if you touch them.”
“That’s beautiful,” Arwen says.
I flash her a mournful smile, then my eyes dart back to Edwina.
Only…she’s not there.
I shift from side to side, glancing over the heads of patrons who stand between me and the end of the bar, but I see no sign of her.
Something tightens in my chest. “Where’s Edwina?”
The women startle and glance behind them.
Arwen cocks her head. “She was just there?—”
I rush to the end of the bar. There’s no sign of Monty or Daphne, only strangers. Monty may have left outside to sully the air with his cigarillo smoke, while Daphne is probably dozing in the rafters again.
“Where is the woman who was sitting here?” I ask the patrons who’d been nearest Edwina.
“She left just a moment ago,” an older woman says with a shrug, her breath reeking of ale.
“Alone?”
“No, with a gentleman?—”
I rush to the back of the dining room where the stairwell to the bedrooms is located. Urgency fuels my steps as I clear the stairs two at a time. I’d tell myself this is about sabotage, but it’s more than that. Edwina was nowhere close to being in her right mind. If that fae with the lion’s tail seeks to take advantage of an almost unconscious woman…
Rage boils my blood.
I have a sister, for fuck’s sake. How could I not get angry at the thought? In this situation, I can’t keep up the pretense of being William the Poet. I’m not even William the Stage Actor right now.
In this moment, I’m just Will, and I’ve had a long fucking day plastering a smile to my face and flirting with strangers. The only real fun I’ve had is teasing Weenie, but look where that got me. I haven’t an ounce of patience left for assholes, so this male better not be one.
At the top of the stairs, the hallway is dimly lit and empty. I sprint around the corner and finally spot who I’m looking for.
Edwina sways on her feet as she struggles to fit her brass room key into the lock of a door. A door that is not hers. Our bedrooms are farther down the next hall. The lion fae stands behind her, his tail flicking back and forth, protruding from the back of his trousers. It’s common for fae with animalistic features in their seelie forms to wear clothing that accommodates them. Others can shift certain features at will, and their clothing shifts with them. So the sight of his tail out in the open isn’t what sparks my ire.
It’s the way his tail tugs the hem of her skirt, brushing her ankles with every flick and swish. Then her calves.
I start down the hall, fingers balled into fists.
Edwina startles, but not at my approach. Neither she nor the lion fae seem to hear my footsteps. She yelps at the brush of the lion’s tail and whirls to face him. Her lids are still heavy, but she forces them wider. “Whoareyou?” she says, words slurred together.
“Darling, we’ve been chatting for minutes,” he says, voice smooth. “You need to take someone to bed before midnight. And you said you’ve always wanted to try the pleasures of a man with a tail.”
He flicks it up to brush her neck.
She cringes away, hands raised to block him. “Nope, nope. Not as sexy as I thought.”
He swishes his tail back to her hem. She retreats a step but trips over her own feet. She giggles as she tumbles to the ground.
The lion fae chuckles too and flicks his tail toward her once more.
I finally reach them and grip the back of his collar. He’s several inches shorter than I am, and when I force him to face me, he pales. I lower my voice to a growl. “And just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“I…I was walking her back to her room.”
“You’re never going to walk again if you don’t get out of my sight at once.”
I release his collar, and the lion has the good sense to make himself scarce before I can think better of it. Once he’s out of sight, I face Edwina.
She’s lying on her back, chortling to herself. “He had a tail. A long, floppy tail. I don’t know what Johannes sees in you, Timothy.”
I haven’t a clue who Johannes or Timothy are, but she’s in no shape to find her bedroom. With a grumbling sigh, I kneel before her and heft her against my chest. She complies with my efforts and winds her arms around my neck, letting me secure her in place. She’s as light as a petal.
“No, I don’t want to fly,” she mumbles into my shoulder as I carry her down the hall. We stop outside her room—one I only know is hers because it’s directly across from mine. She fights me as I try to pry her room key from her fingers, but her efforts are weak.
“Calm down, Weenie, I’m trying to get you safely to your room.”
“Oh. You.” She says it with no small amount of disdain but relinquishes her key by shoving it against my cheek. I snatch it before it can slide down my face and into my collar. Then, shifting her weight to one arm, I unlock her door. Once inside the room, I sweep over to her bed, guided by the meager moonlight creeping through the window. I lay her gently upon the mattress and remove her spectacles, not letting my hands linger any longer than necessary. She burrows into the pillows without bothering to undress or get under the blankets.
She’s going to regret sleeping in her clothes and corset, but I’m not about to undress her. Instead, I can ensure the room is warm. After I set her lenses on her nightstand, I light the stove, pour her a glass of water, and return to her side.
“You should drink something.” I keep my voice soft and low as I crouch beside the bed.
“No more Cloud Dive,” she mutters.
“Not Cloud Dive. Water.”
With a groan, she stirs and pushes herself up slightly. I aid her efforts to drink until she’s taken a few hearty swallows. Then I return the glass to the nightstand.
She falls back onto her pillows. “What’s stabbing me in the head?”
“Probably a headache.”
She groans again, then begins tugging at her hair.
Oh, right, the nest of tangles and pins she constructed.
“You’re making it worse,” I say and plant myself at the edge of her mattress. Then, gingerly, I seek out one pin at a time and tug it free from her hair. Another experience I have, thanks to my sister. Once I’ve removed all the pins—or what I can only assume are all of them with the disastrous mane Edwina has—I smooth out her tangles as best I can. She can do the rest with a brush on the morrow.
“You’re not William,” she says, eyes closed.
“I’m not?”
“No. You’re being nice to me. You must be Monty. You saved me from a wicked villain. You’re my hero, Mr. Phillips.”
I scoff. “All Monty did was encourage our bet. He’s an accomplice in stupidity, not a hero.”
She whimpers. “No, I’m too late! It must be past midnight now.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, rising to my feet. “We’ll dissolve the bargain tomorrow.”
She says nothing to that. Perhaps she didn’t hear me. There’s no point talking about it now anyway. I’ll wait until we have a moment to speak in private when she’s sober and willing to listen to reason.
“Who did William choose?” she whispers.
I frown. “Hmm?”
“Which girl did William choose? Who did he take to his bed tonight? No, don’t tell me. He’s a point ahead, either way.” Her voice catches on the last words. She sniffles. “He’s going to win, isn’t he? I’ve only known him a single day, but it’s enough to convince me I can’t compete with him, no matter what I do. He’s better than me in every way.”
The sorrow in her voice lances my heart. I may like taunting her when she’s sober, but I take no pride in seeing her upset while she’s drunk. “He’s not better than you.”
“He is. Everyone loves him. Men. Women. I lied when I said he’s probably a lousy lover. I bet he’s a god in bed. I bet his throbbing member would put the duke’s to shame.”
I stifle my urge to laugh. Burying my mirth, I step away from her bed. “Get some sleep, Miss Danforth.” I make to turn around, but something snatches the leg of my trousers. Glancing down, I find Edwina’s fingers pinched around the fabric near my calf.
“Can I tell you a secret, Monty?”
I work my jaw side to side. “Save your secrets for morning.”
“I lied,” she rushes to say, “to Jolene. I don’t have a spectacular sex life. I…I hardly have one at all.”
I crouch beside her bed once more. “You weren’t fooling anyone with that, trust me.”
“I don’t do the things I write about.” Her voice warbles with emotion. “I only imagine them. My imagination is very impressive when it comes to smut.”
“I bet it is.”
“But in real life…I’m a fraud. I’m faking it.”
Her words resonate deep in my chest. I lean closer, lower my voice, and confess that which very few know. “I’m a fraud too, Edwina.”
With her eyes still closed, she reaches up to pat me on the shoulder, her motions sloppy. Then her grip suddenly tightens, and her fingers wind around my collar.
“Oh, no.” The dread in her voice has me freezing in place.
“What is it?”
She tugs my collar, lifts herself from the bed, and surges toward me. I brace my arms to catch her, unsure of what’s happening or what she needs?—
She heaves blue liquid all over my shirt.