Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
“Deborah? Is that you?”
Deborah broke away from staring at her husband and turned to the feminine voice. Her straight-faced expression shifted into a grin as she recognized familiar features, and she let out a breath of relief.
“Ellen?” She whispered, remembering the other woman she helped at the auction.
The pretty woman’s features lifted from hopeful to happy, and the two grasped at one another’s white-gloved hands.
“So very good to see you out of that dreadful place!” Deborah whispered excitedly.
“You as well,” Ellen whispered back as they drew closer together.
“Are you…Are you safe?” Deborah asked tentatively. “Happy?”
Ellen’s eyes shifted to look around the crowded dining room of the dinner party they had both been invited to.
“I think so,” Ellen whispered after a moment, “I do not know. After everything that has happened to me, it is hard not to worry that happiness could lead to pain.”
Deborah’s heart throbbed.
“I know what you mean,” she murmured, her eyes finding Cedric once again.
She should not have been so surprised that so many of the ladies at the dinner party seemed to be drawn to her husband immediately. He was, after all, well known for his skills.
Skills that she was starting to learn. Skills that made her adventurous and want to discover if she had any skills of her own. Skills- both hers and Cedric’s- that, as she watched him amongst the group of women, she realized she did not want to share.
Deborah was beginning to panic about such realizations. Cedric really was not hers, and she was not really his. They had an agreement, not a love match. Yet even as she repeatedly reminded herself of that, it did nothing to stay the rising territorial feelings in her chest.
“Ellen!” Deborah heard a man call from somewhere in the room, pulling her back from her wandering thoughts.
“It was lovely to see you again, Deborah,” Ellen said quietly, giving her hand another squeeze before letting go. “I hope we both find our happiness.”
Deborah forced a smile, surprised at how her eyes suddenly stung with tears.
“Me too, Ellen. Be well,” she said, letting go of the other woman’s hand.
“Friend of yours?” A deep voice asked Deborah to watch Ellen go to the man who had called for her.
She turned and vaguely recognized the features of the man Cedric had introduced her to at their wedding. Godric.
“You could say that,” she murmured as she raised her glass of wine to her lips.
Godric studied her for a moment, but his dark, unmoving expression forbade her from reading any possible thoughts. He looked just as brooding as he had at their wedding. Almost as if he were uncomfortable with being around any amount of people.
“And my husband,” she remarked as they both turned to Cedric, “Are those friends of his?”
By her side, Godric chuffed.
“Pay them no mind,” he insisted, “Trust me when I say your husband’s focus is far from anything they have to say or offer.”
It was Deborah’s turn to chuff.
“And pray, what is my husband focused on?” She asked dryly.
“You,” Godric said, his deep voice as serious as ever, “And your plan.”
Deborah looked swiftly back at him, startled by what he said.
“And what do you know of my plan?” She asked carefully.
Godric’s lips twitched, but not enough to indicate a smile. Even brooding, she realized that he was still a handsome man.
“Only that you are searching for something,” he replied, “And if you trust Cedric, he will help you find it.”
Deborah’s heart fluttered as she lowered her glass. Her mind was starting to grow a little fuzzy from the frequent sips of her wine, and she wanted suddenly to feel very sharp.
“You find him trustworthy?” She asked, trying to keep her tone casual.
Godric gave a single nod.
“He likes to play the fool from time to time, but I assure you, he is a man you want on your side,” Godric replied with grave seriousness.
Deborah started to chew on her bottom lip as her feelings churned wildly inside of her.
“Especially while facing that man,” Godric said, then nodded toward a group at the opposite end of the dining room.
Deborah followed his gesture, and her stomach tightened into knots as she saw Sylvester.
She’d known he was going to be there. It was their entire reason for going.
Her cheeks heated as she realized how much she’d let herself get distracted by the women Cedric was speaking with.
She’d been so focused on them, she had missed Sylvester walking in.
“Be well, Your Grace,” Godric said, drawing her focus back.
He bowed his head toward her and took a step back. Her head swiveled back to him with a quickness, surprised that he was ending the conversation as abruptly as he started it.
“You are leaving?” She asked, “We have not even had dinner yet.”
Again, Godric’s lips twitched, but they quickly settled back into that flat line as his eyes scanned the room.
“I prefer a more solitary dining experience,” he murmured, distrust glimmering briefly in his eyes before he looked back at her and gave her an almost sympathetic look.
“Be well, Your Grace. And pray, stay away from any sharp objects this evening.”
Deborah’s brows lifted at his barb, but before she could reply, Godric turned and left.
Her curiosity for her husband’s stoic friend grew, but she decided that the advice was good indeed.
Tonight, no matter how much her hatred burned in her veins, she had to keep a cool head.
With that in mind, she placed her glass down and walked toward Sylvester with her head held high and her shoulders back.
She recognized the woman he was speaking to was the same one she had seen him with at the conservatory ball, but she paid her no mind as she turned her back on her and stepped between the two.
“Good evening, Lord,” she greeted coolly, “How pleasant it is to see you again so soon.”
Sylvester’s eyes narrowed in confusion, then widened as realization dawned on him. He cleared his throat and took a step back, as if she were dangerous.
“Yes, indeed it is,” he answered, his polite tone and smile obviously forced.
“I have not seen you in an age! Come, step away with me a moment and tell me how you are.”
Sylvester’s grip was quick and tight around her upper arm, but Deborah allowed him to lead her away from the others.
“What are you doing?” He hissed under his breath once they were away from the others.
“I should ask you the same thing,” she replied coldly, “Ruining my sister was not enough for you? You had to find another innocent to destroy?”
Sylvester’s face twisted into a quiet snarl.
“Your sister was not as innocent as you would like to hope,” he whispered angrily, “Trust when I say, it did not take much on my part to pry her away her innocence.”
Rage surged through Deborah at once, threatening to overtake her coolness.
“Lies,” she hissed through gritted teeth, “Despicable lies. Once I will set right here and now if it means saving another woman from your disgusting whims. I know my sister is not your only victim.”
Sylvester jerked her in his grip, sending pain lancing up to her shoulder as he let out a soft snarl.
“You will not speak to her, do you understand?” He warned, “You nearly played me at the auction, but I recognize you now. And I will-”
Sylvester suddenly stopped speaking as Deborah felt a warm, solid arm wrap around her waist and tug her backward into a muscled chest. Through her rage, she felt that telltale tingle of warmth and desire as she recognized Cedric’s scent.
“Thank you for not letting my wife fall, Fairborne, but I assure you I have her now.”
Cedric’s deep voice was calm as he spoke, but even so, Deborah detected the whisper of threat behind the polite cadence.
Sylvester blinked, then, as if he had heard it as well, uncurled his fingers from Deborah’s arm.
At once, Cedric pulled her closer, placing his other hand over the throbbing pain Sylvester’s punishing grip had left behind.
He massaged it carefully, soothing away a bit of the sting as he stared intensely at Sylvester; his charming smile unwavering as usual.
“Your wife should be more careful,” Sylvester said carefully, taking a step back from both of them. He narrowed his eyes as he lowered his gaze to her. “She knows not where she steps.”
Deborah glared back at him in challenge.
“I assure you she knows precisely where she places her perfect little feet,” Cedric replied in that same cordial tone, “It is you that must be careful. Woe be the man that gets in the way of her heels.”
Deborah’s heart somersaulted as she glanced up at Cedric, amazed at his talent for doublespeak.
“Guide her steps, Your Grace,” Sylvester replied with a hard tone, “Or I will do so for you.”
Deborah watched as Cedric’s usual charming smile shifted into one of pure hostility.
“Are you threatening my wife, Fairborne?” Cedric asked, shifting Deborah behind him so there was nothing between them.
Too curious not to watch, Deborah peeked around Cedric’s left side. Pleasure bloomed in her as Sylvester’s harsh gaze wavered under Cedric’s challenging stare.
“The guest list to this party is severely underwhelming,” Sylvester all but grunted. “I believe I am no longer in the mood to dine with such…guests.”
“So very sad to hear,” Cedric mocked as Sylvester walked back to his companion.
Sylvester did not stop moving; he did not even look back. Instead, he took the arm of the woman he was with, whispered something in her ear, and they walked to the host to say farewell.
“Outside,” Cedric growled through gritted teeth as he turned and placed his hand on her lower back.
Deborah did not argue; instead, she let him lead her out to the far balcony. Once they were alone, Cedric lifted her arm and gently prodded the area where Sylvester’s fingers had gripped her.
“Does it hurt?” He asked, tugging up the fabric of her gown to inspect the skin.
“Not much,” Deborah replied, but she watched his eyes darken as he revealed a small bruise.