Chapter 30
Luci cuts through the crowd and leaves the blue salon. When she’s gone, I tap Noah’s shoulder. “I’ll be back.”
“The dancing has started,” he says, glancing at my empty glass. “You want another drink?”
“Sure,” I say without thinking. The way my head is buzzing tells me I’m already tipsy, but I blurt a response so I can follow Luci.
I want to get her alone for a minute. To speak to her. To apologize. Because I think I know why she denied knowing Rose.
By the time I exit to the hall, Luci is gone. I don’t see her anywhere, so I follow the slow trickle of guests moving in one direction.
Music swells as we all flow into a ballroom. Chandeliers and sconces fill the space, reflecting off decorative gold molding and pearl-colored walls. A light parquet covers the floors, couples twirling smoothly across the herringbone pattern.
I glance around and spot Luci, tucked into a corner with a blank expression on her face. Ashamed of my suspicion, and my rudeness in the salon, I weave through the growing crowd to stand beside her.
Wearing what some might describe as a thousand-yard stare, she looks straight ahead, her mind somewhere else.
“Luci,” I say, and her eyes snap to me. I ease closer, so I can keep my voice low. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” Her forehead wrinkles as she frowns.
“I shouldn’t have asked you about Rose like that. Not in front of other people. I didn’t know.”
“Know what?” She lifts her chin, but sadness in her eyes give her away.
Rose’s post about doucebête—who I now know is Luci—had the ring of romantic love. If she and Luci were involved, that explains why Luci didn’t admit knowing her.
Appearances reign supreme with people in power, and the affair might have drawn disapproval from the Marteau family. Judgment. Anger. Possibly rejection.
“What didn’t you know?” Luci demands, crossing her arms. She’s trying to keep up a good front, but when her bottom lip quivers, I touch her arm.
“It’s okay,” I say gently. “I won’t tell.”
She blinks rapidly and sniffs, but her shoulders relax. “Thank you,” she whispers.
I feel for Luci, and I won’t betray her secret. But there’s still the question of where Rose has gone.
“Is that why Rose is avoiding her sister?” I ask, hoping family drama is the answer to her disappearance. “Did Alice not approve?”
“No. Alice knew. What has she told—”
She cuts off and looks beyond me. I turn and spot Ric slinking around the dance floor, his gaze pinned on us.
A red-haired woman hangs on his arm. Judging by her hazy eyes and uncoordinated gait, she’s not holding on with affection. But for support.
As the pair draws near, I cringe, stepping closer to the wall to give them room to pass.
But Ric stops in front of us, wearing a lazy smirk. Towering over Luci and me, he blocks our view of the dancers.
“Brooke,” he says, smacking his lips after my name.
His date sets an empty wine glass on a nearby table, her body swaying slightly as she reaches out. When she stands upright again, she breathes deeply and blinks several times.
“Isn’t this place amazing?” She slurs in an American accent. She offers a smile, but it’s droopy and unstable, as if her lips were painted by Picasso. She’s highly intoxicated, by drink or drug or both.
“Like something out of a storybook,” I say, hoping her presence will at least rein in Ric’s lewd behavior.
She circles her fingers in the air, indicating the surroundings but barely able to keep her eyes open. “I’ve lived in Paris for . . . long time, but I never thought I’d get to come to this famous ball.”
“We’re happy to have you,” Luci says. She wears a charming expression, but a hint of irritation lies in her tone. Is she irritated by Ric’s presence? Or the condition of his date?
“Sorry we missed dinner,” the redhead says. “Ric was showing me a room upstairs.” She gives an exaggerated wink. “Showing me the ceiling.” She laughs at her own joke.
Scoffing, Ric jerks his arm, consequently pulling her off balance.
“Hey,” she protests as she loses her footing.
Ric clenches his jaw until the muscles bulge. He leans close to her face. “What did I tell you?” he says, voice sharp and cruel as a razor.
The exchange is uncomfortable to witness, and next to me, Luci clears her throat.
Huffing, Ric lifts his arm to dislodge his date. His upper lip curls in disgust. “Go clean yourself up.”
Eyes downcast, the redhead speaks to Luci. “Can you show me the restroom?”
Luci glances at me, as if she doesn’t want to leave me with Ric, but she’s a member of the esteemed Marteau family. She can’t let a guest who’s clearly upset wander around lost.
Too bad Ric doesn’t show the same courtesy.
His stare still burns with temper as he grabs my elbow. “Let’s dance,” he says. Not a request, but an order.
“No, thanks.” His fingers tighten painfully, but I wrench free. “I’ll wait for Noah.”
As if on cue, I glance over his shoulder to see Noah approaching. “There you are,” I say, making sure Ric knows we have an audience.
Noah comes to my side and hands me a drink. “Ric,” he says, facing his cousin.
Ric tips his head in response, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Sensing a mutual dislike between the men, I lift my drink. “The apple brandy is delicious, but I think this is my last one. I’m getting a little light-headed.”
“We can leave whenever you’re ready,” Noah says.
Ric narrows his eyes. “But we saved the best part for last, and we don’t want Brooke to miss out, do we?” He bumps his glass against Noah’s chest. “Why don’t you leave? And I’ll take care of Brooke.”
Noah gently pushes the drink back toward his cousin. “Don’t be an ass.” He speaks under his breath, but the low tone can’t disguise his anger.
“Ric, stop.” Lyam materializes beside me. “Father will be furious if you cause a scene.”
Ric sneers at his younger brother. “Good little Lyam, always doing what’s expected of you.” He tosses back what’s left of his drink and turns back to Noah. “And you. Why are you even here?”
Noah goes rigid. “Because I’m family.”
“Oh, now you’re family.” Ric sniffs with disdain. “That didn’t stop you from leaving. You ran away with your mommy, like a coward.” He glances at me and smirks. “After his girlfriend’s little sister died in our tunnels.”
“That’s enough,” Noah says, stepping up to Ric as I gasp.
Is Ric talking about the little girl who went missing? The one who was later found in the catacombs?
In their tunnels? Below Maison Marteau?
Fury sparks between them, an unspoken challenge straining the air.
But then Ric laughs and backs down. He pats Noah’s chest, as if to calm him. As if he doesn’t want to make Noah angry. “Okay, Cousin. Okay.”
Ric lifts his glass in a gesture of peace and speaks to Noah in French. Taking a drink, he turns to go, walking to the door where Luci and his date exited.
I stare at Noah. He stares back, but I can’t decipher his mood. If he’s still angry, he hides it well.
The music changes to a slower song. Before I can say a word, Lyam extends his hand. “May I have this dance?”
I glance between him and Noah, but manners win out. I don’t want to be rude to Lyam. He’s done nothing wrong.
I hand my drink to Noah. He smiles but his eyes show strain, the only evidence of his lingering ire.
Happy as a schoolboy, Lyam lifts my hand to kiss my fingers, then slowly pulls me out to dance. Without objection, I glide onto the floor, his arms still encircling me as we dance.
“Sorry about Ric,” Lyam says. “He always wants what he can’t have.”
“It’s fine.” I shrug and pretend to let it go. Trying to salvage what’s left of the night, I wink at Noah as I twirl by.
He gives me a smile, but I can tell his mood has changed. Tension rests on Noah’s forehead, a reminder of Ric’s callousness.
He didn’t explain his cousin’s cryptic words. And I won’t tell him it’s a story I’ve already heard.
But as I sway with Lyam beneath the chandeliers, I know two things.
The little friend Ric mentioned was the missing girl.
And Noah was here when she died.