“Of course not. Where is it going?”
“Let me see here.” He reached up and fumbled with the tag tied to the box. “Looks like it goes to the care of either a Vivian or a Simon. Perhaps we can take it to the innkeeper and he can see it delivered.”
She smiled. This must be the delivery from Tristen. Finally. “No need. I’m Vivian.”
The old man clasped his hands together. “Wonderful! Then I will consider my job complete. You aren’t lying to me to procure my package, though, are you young lady?” A scolding look furrowed his brow.
“Of course not. I am Vivian Bellarose. I am here with Simon. You can consider your package delivered.”
“Perhaps we should find this Simon, just so I can be certain.”
The thought of seeing Simon after how things ended yesterday sent a wave of panic washing through her. “No, no. He’s resting. I’ll just take it from here. I am Vivian; you have my word.”
He eyed her up closely before heaving a weary sigh. “I guess I will trust you. You have a wonderful day.” He started back to the front of the wagon, his cane supporting his weight with each shuffling step. Lumbering footsteps shook the porch behind her. She turned to see Simon’s sizeable form standing at the top. Her stomach dropped at the sight of him. The anger he projected yesterday still pulsed off him in waves. Her hopes that a night of sleep would have eased his anger were dashed.
“Running off so soon... Tristen?” he asked.
“What?” Vivian whipped her head back to the old man climbing into the wagon. “Tristen? That’s impossible.”
The old man turned back around, a full smile revealing the straight white teeth she had seen once before... on Tristen.
She burst into laughter, staring at his masterful camouflage. “Incredible! I had no idea!”
Simon came down the steps two at a time. He pushed past her without so much as a glance. A snap of pain plucked in her stomach at his indifference to her.
“You’ve got a good eye, Simon,” Tristen said, the quaky voice still trembling like an old man. “I know you were disappointed the last time you saw me that I didn’t dazzle you with a disguise. I didn’t want to disappoint a second time.”
“If I hadn’t seen you in this same disguise once before, I would have never suspected. Your talents are unparalleled, my friend.”
“You certainly had me fooled! I never suspected for a moment!” Vivian laughed and approached his side. “The makeup... how do you create such false skin? Your own is as smooth as a baby’s behind!”
“Secrets of the trade, darling. Secrets of the trade.” He winked.
“You’ve impressed her, my friend. Lucky you. She may only charge you half when you visit us again, though I’m not sure she’s worth it.”
The words hit her in the gut like the kick of a rank horse. Her pained eyes flew to Simon’s face. The softness he wore so openly before had vanished, a cold stone facade now in its place. Tristen shot her a look, his own shock frozen behind his bright blue eyes.
Simon paid no mind to the pain he had inflicted with his words. “Thank you again, Tristen. I can always count on you. If you ever need a favor, you know I’m at your service.”
Tristen cleared his throat, regaining his former composure. “Your outfits are in the box along with your invitations. The rest is up to you. I wish you the best of luck.” Those last words were pointed at her. There was no doubt Tristen knew her journey ahead with an angered Simon would be a rocky one. With a nod she accepted his condolences and bid him farewell.
“It was a great pleasure meeting you, Tristen. I hope our paths cross again someday,” she said.
“You as well, Miss Vivian Bellarose.”
With a cluck he urged his mule forward. The cart bounced along the pitted drive back to the main road. She stood beneath the large shadow Simon cast over her. It felt cool beneath him though she didn’t know if the sudden drop in temperature came from the shelter from the sun or the icy breeze radiating off him. Without a word he took the box from her hands and walked back up to the stairs and settled onto the porch swing. It creaked beneath the weight of him.
Vivian followed him up but didn’t dare take a seat beside him. There was no question where his anger was brewing from, and no words she could say to make things better. He had every right to be angry. Hell, she was angry at herself. If only she had allowed her guard to stay down for just one more moment. Just one more moment and she could have tasted the lips she had been desiring. She could have felt the warmth of his embrace and the heat of his body. Just when she could have surrendered, fear shackled her once more and ripped her from his arms.
Sex. She was comfortable with sex. Comfortable taking money for sex. It was once something that made her feel weak and vulnerable, becoming the plaything of whatever man was pushed her way. Since taking the reins as bawd and controlling who touched her, and how, now sex made her feel powerful, in control. Kissing was emotional, it exposed you. To put herself out there with someone was something she had only done once... with Viktor. Even that had taken years to cultivate. Years of trust and bonding before she finally dropped her walls and let him walk through. With Simon, it was happening again... quicker this time. Yet when the opportunity to be vulnerable presented itself she panicked, fear grabbed her tongue and forced her to say hateful things to him. She would forever regret those flippant words hurled like verbal missiles.
Simon finished tearing the box open and unrolled the scroll of paper. “Tonight. Seven o’clock.”
“That’s when the party is?” she asked.
“Of course, that’s when the party is. What else would I be talking about?” he scoffed.
She shrunk back away from the sharpness of his acerbic tone.
“Just go put this on and meet me down here at six o’clock. We’ll ride over together. You are Lady Victoria Delouise. I’m your cousin, Sir Edward Delouise. We’re from Wales. We’ll get our story straight on the way there. Understood?”
She nodded her head.
“Good. I’ll see you down here at six.”
With a push he rose to his feet and headed inside. She stepped out of the way when he strode past. He pulled a crimson gown from the box and dropped it in her arms before disappearing inside without a word. The porch swing creaked as it swung empty... as empty as the feeling she had in the pit of her stomach.
“DO YOU REMEMBER IT all?” Simon asked as they rode side by side up Baron Walcott’s cobbled driveway.
“I think so,” she responded.
“Think so? You need to know so,” he growled. “We can’t get in there and have our stories contradict each other.”
Vivian sighed. “Yes, Simon. I know so.”
“Edward. I’m Edward now, Victoria. Don’t slip up again.”
She closed her eyes and let his anger wash over her again. The ten-minute ride from the inn had been riddled with the remnants of his bruised ego. She could only hope the anger would pass and soon he would regain the playful composure she had just grown accustomed to before she ruined things with her careless words. As much as she had pretended to be irritated with his constant chatter on their way to Liverpool, he had grown on her and she missed the smile he wore so frequently before. Hell, she even missed his singing at this point.
Lanterns lit their way and illuminated the hedges lining the long drive. The clip-clop of hooves echoed through the night. Carriages filed in one after the other, men and women in the most exquisite finery emerging as each carriage pulled up at the sprawling stone staircase that led to the towering mansion. Vivian and Simon followed the carriage in front of them, pulling to a stop where a groom awaited to take their mounts.
“Welcome to Hawthorne Manor. Do you have an invitation?”
Simon pulled the scroll from his elegant blue coat and handed it to the groom below. After a quick glance at the document he bowed before taking their reins.
“Your horses will be fed and watered and awaiting you in the stable. Please enjoy your evening.�
��
Simon slid down first and stepped over to her mare’s side. An extended hand awaited her grasp to assist her down. Vivian knew the gesture was purely for show, but that didn’t stop her from holding her breath for a heartbeat, wishing it was real. If it had been up to him, he would have turned his back and stomped away, leaving her to scramble down on her own. She smiled and took his hand, hopping down to meet him on the ground. After she slid her hand through his arm, they made their way up the stone stairs that stretched as wide as any she had ever seen.
“If I hadn’t seen Viktor’s castle, this would officially be the largest manor I’ve ever visited.”
“Baron Walcott certainly spared no expense in building it,” he responded.
The fact he had answered her with more words than “yes” or “no” gave her a whisper of hope he might cease his barrage of verbal assaults and treat her with some semblance of kindness again. It was a small hope, but hope nonetheless, so she snatched it up and held it close to her heart.
When they reached the top of the stairs, the sounds of the party spilled out and flooded the surrounding space. Warm lights illuminated every room of the manor, causing an ethereal glow to envelop the entire estate. Laughter and music grew louder with each step. Soon they passed inside the front doors and got lost in a sea of colorful gowns.
“There must be hundreds of people here,” Vivian said. “I’ve been to many parties in my day, but this... this is in a world of its own.”
“Champagne?” a server asked as he passed by.
“Please,” Vivian answered, pulling a flute from the tray. Simon did the same, and together they took a sip.
Simon’s eyes moved through the crowd. “Well, we’re in. The next order of business is to find out the exact location of this trophy room.”
“Any ideas?”
“We want to interact with as few people as possible without setting off any alarms. The faster we find the treasure room’s location the faster we can get out of here. I’ll slip back in this week and retrieve the map once I know the layout. The best way to case a place and avoid talking to people is to hit the dance floor. The spinning gives you ample time to get a full view of all your surroundings without looking obvious. Shall we?”
The sudden intimacy of the moment seemed weightier than usual. She looked at his extended hand and then up at the man himself. He cut a dashing figure in the outfit Tristen had selected for him. Blue patterned silk did little to mask the obvious masculinity his chiseled physique shouted to the world. Without his worn leather cloak and weapons strapped to his body, she would have thought he would look less imposing... weaker. The man standing before her with an outstretched hand was anything but.
With a tentative touch she slipped her hand into his. When his fingers closed around hers it sent a shudder through her body. He tugged her toward the dance floor. Placing their champagne glasses on an empty table, he spun her out into the twirling crowd and yanked her up against him. She gasped when she collided against his chest, the force harder than she expected.
“Apologies for the rough handling,” he smirked while he began dancing her around. “It was an accident.”
“I’m not certain I believe you,” she retorted, following his moves across the floor. For his size he was surprisingly skilled on the dance floor. He moved with grace and agility one rarely found in a man of his stature. Men like Simon generally had brute strength at the loss of their nimbleness. He was the extraordinary man who possessed both. His body towering over her made her feel small, protected. Vivian pressed just a little tighter against him and his hand filling the small of her back followed her in.
“Keep your eyes open,” he said between moves.
“What am I looking for exactly?”
“Any indication of a room of value. Likely extra guards.”
“Do we think it’s down here? The manor is extensive. It could be any number of places.”
The band changed the music, and with it, Simon changed his moves. She found herself in awe once again of his impressive skill on the dance floor. Everything about Simon impressed her. His looks, his size, his fighting skills, his dancing... there didn’t seem to be anything this man wasn’t good at.
“We have to start somewhere. If it’s not here, I’ll need to find a way to sneak off and take myself on a tour of the estate.”
A man chatting with a group of people at the top of the balcony caught Vivian’s eye. “Look, that’s him. Baron Walcott.”
“Where?” Simon spun her around.
“Balding, grey hair, gold and blue suit, up on the balcony.”
She waited for him to find the target. “I see him. How do you know that’s the Baron?”
She smirked. “You have your skills, and I have mine. I have a nose for power. That right there is the most powerful man in the room. He oozes it. He’s not attractive, so that’s not where his confidence comes from, which means he’s rich. In a room full of other rich people he still feels superior. That leads me to draw the conclusion this is his party, and that is Baron Walcott.”
“Impressive,” he smiled. “I like your logic.”
“It’s a gift,” she said, returning his smile.
“If he’s the richest, most powerful man in the room, you’d better charge him double.”
Heat raced to her face. Her body froze in his arms, but her feet continued following his. His words ripped through her for the last time.
“Enough!” she hissed.
Simon stiffened and looked down at her.
“You have insulted me for the last time. I am sorry your pride is wounded and your feelings are hurt. It was not my intention. However, you do not have the right to continue this constant barrage of attacks on me. You’ve gone too far and though I felt guilty before, I no longer do. Your behavior is unacceptable and I will not have it!” she said, struggling to keep her voice down.
“Vivian—”
“No. You have said enough! You have no idea what I have been through, what I have endured. I have suffered things you cannot imagine at the hands of men. I have fought tooth and nail to regain my power and I do not throw it away the moment a man makes a move on me. Do you think yourself the first man to try and have his way with me, to claim me as his own? I have put up walls for a reason, and intact they will remain until there is no shred of doubt that my trust is well-placed. Then, and only then, will I even consider letting someone in. How you’ve treated me in our short acquaintance? Now I can be certain my decision not to trust you was the correct one. Intentionally hurting me? You don’t have the honor I thought you did. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go use my talents and find the bloody treasure room.”
When she looked up she saw a pair of shocked eyes weighted heavy with guilt. The brazen display of hurt and guilt flowed over her like water over stone. She ripped herself from his arms and stormed off the dance floor.
“Vivian,” he called after her, careful not to raise his voice and draw too much attention.
There was no looking back. Looking back would mean the tears she’d locked away might make a break for freedom. She swallowed hard, pushing the lump in her throat back down to the black hole where she stored away her feelings. This was no time to come undone. There was a job to do and she intended to see it done.
Baron Walcott was deep in a story when she arrived at his side. A small group of men clamored around him, hanging on his every word. Vivian pressed her way into the assembly and lined herself up where he could see her with ease.
“So then, I sold him the horse and laughed all the way to the bank! What a fool!” Baron Walcott howled. Wrinkles in his weathered skin deepened with his laughter. The men joined, roaring in unison over his story. Their laughter sounded forced, likely a terrible story these poor men were forced to endure. Vivian giggled along with them to fit in, her eyes beckoning the Baron to notice her. In only a moment he did.
His laughter trickled off while his eyes raked her up and down. Tristen had done an im
peccable job selecting this gown for her. It showed off every inch of her figure to perfection. The crimson color matched her lips and looked radiant against her olive skin. The Baron’s eyes paused at the scooped neckline dotted with jewels. Vivian took a deep breath causing her breasts to heave, an old but useful trick that worked to capture the attention of any man.
“And who is this astonishing creature?” the Baron asked, his eyes finally making their way back up to hers.
She curtsied. “Lady Victoria Delouise. It’s an honor to meet you, Baron Walcott. I hope you don’t mind my intrusion on your storytelling. You were so commanding I found it impossible to resist listening.” Fluttering lashes finished her sentence.
He puffed out his chest. “Well, I suppose I do tell a rousing tale. Of course, you are welcome to join in.”
Stifling an eye roll, instead she flashed him a coy smile. Holding his gaze in her own, she stepped forward, sliding her hand along his forearm.
“I was hoping perhaps you could tell me another story? Maybe while you show me around this incredible estate? I’ve heard it’s the best in England and I have been just dying to see it.” Her fingers traced his arm. He swallowed hard, his eyes flashing down to her breasts again. “Though I suppose you are busy now hosting your party. I shouldn’t be so selfish as to ask to pull you away. I’m such a silly woman. My apologies.” She batted her lashes and lowered her eyes, turning her body to walk away.
“Wait,” he said, grabbing her arm. “I would be honored to show you around. Please, gentleman, will you excuse us?”
Admiration filled their eyes as they all bowed and gave leave.
Vivian covered her satisfied smile with one filled with sweet surprise. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother, Baron.”
“No bother at all,” he said. His true intentions flashed again in his eyes. “Please, follow me.”
He lifted an elbow and she slid her hand through, resting it on the soft material of his jacket. He covered it with his own, the clammy touch roiling her stomach. She commanded her hand to remain still; it wasn’t the first time she had to endure the touch of an older man and play the part of the adoring companion. She had been doing it for the better part of a decade. With any luck, once they found the treasure, she would never have to do it again.
By The Assassin's Side (Daggers 0f Desire Book 3) Page 7