Chapter 15
Rejected Invitation
The sun had set when Edwin walked into Leo’s study unannounced. Leo was pretending to be toiling over reports of his estates.
“By all means,” Leo chuckled. “Barge in like you own the place.”
“Like we need to announce ourselves to each other.”
“I do!”
“Because I am married, Leo. You can’t barge into my house.”
“Of course. We all know how you usually occupy your time when Abigail is around, after all.”
“Being vulgar is not your color,” Edwin said, eyebrow raised. “But accurate.”
Leo shook his head as he got up to pour them some brandy. He beckons at the armchairs in front of the fireplace, and they take their place in comfortable silence. Both men look at the fire, lost in their thoughts for a while.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” Edwin said out of the blue. “Or do you plan to be fashionably late?”
Leo looked up at his friend, and he frowned.
“Did you come already drunk, Ed?”
“I merely asked when you are getting ready. I wanted to catch you before you left to discuss if you needed something.”
“For the love of… What are you talking about, Ed?”
Edwin turned his body to his friend fully with a perplexed look on his face.
“Leo.”
“Edwin. I don’t think in all the years we’ve known each other and the weird, preposterous things we have done together, including chasing an ostrich on foot, that there has been a weirder exchange between us.”
“The Covington Ball.”
Leo’s body stiffened, and his jaw ticked. He glanced at his desk. Among the papers was a heavy, cream-colored envelope.
“What of it?” Leo drained his glass.
“You are attending, of course.”
“I have never attended that ball. Are you demented? Should I send word to Abigail?”
“Abigail sent me. Leo,” Edwin said, carefully, realizing with dread the truth.
The Duke looked up, hearing the tone in his friend’s voice change. The next thing coming out of Edwin’s mouth is going to be something Leo will hate.
“Leo, Bridget invited Prim to the ball.”
Leo got up in a slow, deliberate uncoiling, like a predator rising from a crouch. He set his glass down on the mantel.
“Explain.”
“Abigail said that yesterday Bridget ambushed Prim at Madame Sybil’s.”
Leo’s hands curled into loose fists at his sides, the only outward sign.
“Go on.”
“She requested a private audience,” Edwin said carefully.
“Tell me Prim didn’t-”
“She did.”
Leo turned to the fireplace, cursing through gritted teeth. To think of his mother circling Prim like a helpless prey. Anger rose inside him like hot lava ready to erupt.
“I will have a word with my mother tomorrow. Thank you for telling me, Ed.”
“Uhm,” Edwin was hesitant to give him the final blow.
Leo turned, scowling, the skin over his knuckles stretched white.
“Ed?”
Edwin huffed.
“You really need to communicate more with Prim.”
“Ed?”
“Bridget spoke of making amends and-”
“ED!” Leo’s voice was a whip-crack in the quiet room.
Edwin drained his glass and got up, facing his friend with a look of grim finality.
“Prim accepted the invitation.”
“Hell!”
Leo’s breath left him in a short, sharp hiss. Every muscle in his body locked. Leo searched Edwin’s eyes with the hope that this was all an elaborate prank. Edwin stared back with the look of a man who wished he were joking.
Leo glanced at the cursed invitation on the desk and then at the clock over his desk. His shoulders squared, but his look turned icy cold. Absolute silence reigned in the comfortable study.
“You must excuse me, Ed,” Leo said, his voice a low, velvety rasp. “I have a ball to attend.”
The Covington estate rose from its manicured grounds, gilded and perfect.
Every single window was lit, and the music spilled into the opulent gardens.
Leo couldn’t admire any of it. In his eyes, the place was a glorified trap that he willingly entered.
And those who set it up would regret their decision.
The moment he entered the ball, all eyes fell on him. The relationship with his mother was no secret, which was underlined by the fact that this was the first time he ever attended.
Leo was not there to indulge in the rumor mill that never stopped. He was there with a singular purpose. He didn’t know what madness led Prim into the wolves’ den buts he was not going to sit around and watch her torn to pieces.
He was responsible for this. His family had targeted him, and she was the collateral damage. He was a lot of things, a rake, a cynic, perhaps even worse things than that, but he was not the kind of villain who let an innocent woman take the fall for his own poisoned legacy.
If he were to be the monster they all feared, he would at least be a monster who protected what was his. And Prim, whether she liked it or not, had become his to protect.
“Your Grace,” a random socialite, some Countess, who mistook herself for important. “We didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Then pretend you didn’t,” Leo said coldly.
The irksome woman left, shocked, but that gave little solace to Leo.
He was scanning the ballroom with the urgency of impending doom.
He needed to find Prim and fast. But she was nowhere to be seen.
Dread got hold of his soul, and it was a nasty, cruel feeling.
He scanned the room once more, urgently, his eyes darting to every corner and nook.
There was no way for him to sit still anymore. He shouldered his way through the crowd, looking at everyone and no one. Every flash of blonde hair made his heart leap, only to be replaced by curdling disappointment.
He wandered around all the areas, but still no luck.
His restlessness became palpable, evident in the way his usually relaxed hands were clenched at his sides, the leather of his gloves straining.
Perhaps Prim was the strategist he had pegged her to, and her accepting the invitation was just a ploy.
Yes. Prim agreed only to avoid a scene, and she is safe in her home.
“We really need to stop running into each other like that,” a voice came behind him.
Aaron circled till he was standing right in front of him.
Leo’s body locked. Every muscle coiled in an instant, his body squaring off.
His chin dipped, his shoulders rolling back to broaden his stance.
Leo recognized immediately what his body did on instinct.
He was preparing for a fight, as he did in a ring.
“I’d rather we stopped meeting at all,” Leo growled, “but it seems it is unavoidable.”
“You seem to be in a foul mood, Your Grace,” Aaron’s tone dripped poison. “Have you… misplaced something?”
“My patience,” Leo threatened. “It comes in short supply and shouldn’t be tested. Unlike your nerve, which appears in endless, irritating surplus.”
Aaron’s smile widened, a predator pleased to have drawn blood. He took a leisurely sip of champagne, all but vibrating with satisfaction.
“I think you should enjoy the ball, Your Grace. everyone else does,” Aaron said. “Well…” he paused for dramatic effect. “Perhaps not everyone. Some found the ambiance rather taxing.”
The small hair in the back of Leo’s head flared at that comment. Leo held tight onto the last shred of logic because it was the only thing that kept him breathing.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. What am I being accused of?”
“If you did anything to hurt her…’”
“I would never,” Aaron said in fake indignation.
“I have warned you. Do not mess with me.”
Aaron took one step forward. He pinned Leo with his look, and now he had dropped all pretenses of civility. His face distorted into a cruel mask as he leaned to Leo.
“It seems that for certain flowers, high society balls can be suffocating,” Aaron’s voice was a nasty combination of sarcasm and malice. “They might need a moment in the powder room.”
Leo would have loved to unleash his instincts and allow them to reduce Aaron into a bleeding, whimpering heap on the polished marble.
He almost took that step and raised those fists.
He knew, though, that it wouldn’t bring anything but temporary satisfaction.
Aaron would have won. Leo took one small step, invading the younger lord’s space with his sheer size.
“I hope that I find her safe,” he rumbled. “Or I will personally demonstrate how suffocating certain circumstances can be.”
Aaron was forced to raise his chin, and the smile was wiped from his face. Then Leo decided that he had wasted enough precious time with him and turned on his heels.
He all but ran to the powder room and, without any sense of propriety, he opened the door and slipped inside. The door closed behind him with a soft thud.
Prim stood there, both hands on the sink for support. She glanced up and saw him through the mirror with a look of utter shock.
“Leo,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”
He didn’t answer, he just began a quick assessment of her situation. No visible tears, no physical harm he could see.
"Are you hurt?" The question tore from him, rough and stripped of all ducal polish.
“I…”
Prim turned and regarded him as if she were questioning the fabric of reality. Leo took a step and was near her, his gaze scanning her face.
“Did anyone hurt you? Said anything to you?” His voice then dropped to a dangerous snarl. “Did anyone touch you?”
“Leo, I… I am fine. Nothing that I couldn’t handle. What are you doing here? And by here I also mean in here.”
He allowed his breathing to come to a more normal pace, his body slightly to relax.
The worst he had imagined stayed thankfully just that, figments of his imagination.
But no, that the dread dissipated, another sentiment walked in and claimed his soul.
He took another step, pushing her against the sink, the opulent room feeling suddenly too small.
Prim raised her chin, her jaw dropped at his searing look.
“What are you doing in here?” He growled.
Prim clenched her jaw and raised her eyebrow.
“Powdering my nose.”