Chapter 29 Zaria #2
Cole guffawed. “I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had similar experiences.”
Kane was good. Zaria didn’t know how he managed to be so laid-back or how he read people so easily.
She felt like an awkward accessory at his side without the vaguest idea of how to play at charm.
Beside her, Jules moved in silence, hands clasped behind his back as Cole led them aimlessly toward the upper level of the Crystal Palace.
Zaria’s insides seized. They couldn’t make their way to a whole other level—not when everything they needed was on the main floor.
Cole’s voice faded into the background as excited chatter filled her ears.
She caught a partial conversation between two women about when the queen and prince consort would arrive, though it was soon lost beneath the bellow of a wild-haired man with a stern brow.
“A brazen circus of commodity fetishism…”
“Karl, please—” the man’s companion began, though Zaria didn’t hear the rest of his appeal as Kane pulled her away.
They passed displays of beautiful artwork, each brushstroke more intricate than the next, then a working steam engine.
A hydraulic press, a whole fire engine, and a number of various locomotives.
Zaria skimmed over an array of furs and leathers to fixate on the most beautiful carriage she’d ever seen.
It certainly wasn’t the type of thing people took out in London’s public streets.
But her heart hammered in her chest all the while, and she couldn’t focus on much of anything. Each beat was a ticking clock.
“Look.” Jules grabbed Zaria’s elbow, pointing over the balcony to the Exhibition’s main entrance. His face was wan, his lips tight. “Is that the queen’s procession?”
Zaria followed his gaze and realized he had to be right.
Even from a distance, she could see the crowd parting, making way for a woman in an enormous dress with a tall man in black at her side.
The queen and the prince consort. Her mouth went dry, and she dug her fingernails into the back of Kane’s hand.
He grunted, pulling free of her grasp. Cole noticed, stopping midway through a monologue regarding his opinion of French furniture. “Are you quite all right, Master Wright?”
“Yes.” Kane said smoothly. “I think my fiancée is impatient to see the musical instruments, though. There’s a Broadwood pianoforte she’s been quite enchanted with.”
Cole nodded. “Perhaps Master Sing can accompany her? I’d love to engage yourself and Mister Fox, once he arrives.”
Kane’s mask slipped just enough for Zaria to make out his impatience. It snapped back into place a moment later, though his voice was edged as he said, “I would love that. Unfortunately, Eleanor doesn’t get along very well with Master Sing.”
Jules rolled his eyes where Cole couldn’t see.
“Very well,” Cole said, clicking his tongue and shaking his head in unison. “Women, am I right? I’ll be certain to find you later, then.”
Kane’s grin was snakelike. “You do that.”
Zaria waited until they were a distance away from the man before rounding on Kane. “Are you trying to waste time?”
He procured what looked like a small bronze coin, holding it between two fingers.
“What is that?” Jules asked before Zaria could.
“Exhibitor’s medal,” Kane said, handing it to Zaria.
Sure enough, one side of the coin was inscribed with the word EXHIBITOR set against a tiny rendering of the globe.
The other was a side-profile likeness of the prince consort.
“Cole and the rest of the commission are giving them to the exhibitors that impress them most. He had them in his pocket.”
Zaria frowned. “And that’s why you let him hold us up?”
“I let him hold us up because he’s the prince consort’s adviser, and ignoring him would be rude.
But yes, I had also planned for him to find us.
You’ll notice I’m wearing precisely the same outfit as the last time he saw me, which is useful in triggering someone’s recognition.
The medal is about to become important.” Kane checked his pocket watch before guiding her down the steps leading back to the main floor, one arm outstretched to block patrons converging in the opposite direction.
Then he glanced over his shoulder. “Julian, how do you feel about role-play?”
Jules hurried to catch up with them. “What kind of question is that?”
“A simple one.” Kane’s narrowed gaze swept the area. His hand was warm on the small of Zaria’s back. It made her think unwittingly of how he’d skimmed those hands up her rib cage, his lips against her neck.
Wrong, wrong, wrong. In less than an hour, she was going to ruin his life and put Fletcher’s in jeopardy.
She didn’t even like Kane. She only liked the way he smelled, the way his body fit against hers, the way his touch made her skin come alive.
But she could get that from anyone, couldn’t she?
Any fool with two hands and a reasonably handsome face would do.
It was only that Kane was the first one with the gall to kiss her with the kind of passion that stemmed only from fury.
Had it been a regular kiss, Zaria didn’t think she would have enjoyed it half as much.
“All right.” Kane came to a halt, pressing the medal into Jules’s hand.
“The pianoforte is right over there.” He pointed, though Zaria couldn’t see over the crowd.
“I suspect the gentleman with the red hair is the representative from Broadwood really, she had no desire to see anyone at all. There were altogether too many people here, pushing and shoving and laughing and talking, each one of them unbearable.
“Yes,” Kane said. “And that is my pianoforte.”
He pointed to where a trio of pianos stood accompanied by various other instruments and pieces of furniture.
Plush red curtains hung from the rafters on either side, delineating the display from the others nearby.
The crowd around them was beginning to thin, but it was still busy enough that Zaria felt a jolt.
How the hell were they going to get anywhere near the pianoforte without someone questioning them?
Jules must have had a similar thought, because he said to Kane, “There’s no way we’re going to pull this off.”
Kane waved a hand, effectively shushing him.
“Don’t be so pessimistic. That’ll be the exhibitor”—he pointed to a tall man wearing a coat of scarlet—“and you only need to distract him for all of thirty seconds. Fletcher’s right down the corridor, as is the Waterhouse exhibit, so we’ll be ready for the next phase. ”
“What am I supposed to talk to the exhibitor about?”
“You hand him the medal, Julian.” Impatience edged into Kane’s voice.
“I meant after that!”
Kane looked to Zaria as if appealing for her input. She shrugged. “Ask about the display. I don’t know.”
Jules chewed his lower lip. Stood up taller again. Narrowed his eyes. “Okay. I’m a wealthy bastard from the Royal Commission. I can do this.”
“Of course you can,” Zaria said, having no idea whether it was true.
He loped confidently over to the exhibitor, and she and Kane watched in silence until Jules handed over the medal and the man cracked a smile. She had to admit, it appeared to be going well.
“Come on.” Kane’s voice was at her ear. He pulled her toward the red curtain at the edge of the exhibit, and together they slunk behind it. The fabric was ruched, which aided in their disappearing act, and Zaria inhaled sharply through her nose as Kane pressed against her.
“Don’t,” she hissed.
“Don’t what?”
“Stand so close.”
He pulled back, and she could hear his frown as he said, “I’m just trying to get this done, Mendoza. Though I must say, it’s interesting to know where your head is at.”
“My head isn’t anywhere,” she retorted.
Kane’s laugh was silent. “Do you regret the kiss, Zaria?”
Zaria, this time. Not Miss Mendoza. “Of course I regret it. Don’t you?”
There was a beat of quiet. She wondered if she’d offended him or whether he was merely considering her question. Eventually, he said, “Not for the reasons you might think.”
“Well, that clears everything up.”
He leaned closer, his next words released on a breath. “I like the way you’re so determined to hate me even when your body betrays you. It makes things so very interesting.”
Cocky bastard. Zaria made a humming sound in the back of her throat, allowing herself to soften into him. She heard his sharp inhalation as she brought her lips to his ear. “The only one betraying themselves here, Kane Durante, is you.”
He backed away, knowing at once what she was referring to. A laugh rumbled in his chest. There wasn’t a hint of embarrassment in his voice as he said, “Unyielding as always.”
She ignored that, yanking the edge of the curtain aside to reveal the pianoforte. “Eyes on the prize.”