Charming the Snake

by MaryJanice Davidson, Camille Anthony, Melissa Schroeder

  “... to you,” he might as well have added. His supercilious tone said he doubted the duchess would deign to meet with the likes of her.

  Chassy settled on the thin cushion with ill grace. Damn pretentious man. “You’d think he was the duke and not the servant with all the airs he put on,” she muttered half under her breath.

  I’ll show him airs! He’d best remember I am the daughter of a duke, myself.

  The butler returned quickly, his mouth drawn in a disapproving moue. Reluctantly polite, he intoned, “If milady will follow me...?”

  Giving her his back -- instead of inviting her to go before him as he ought -- he led the way down a long, wide hall.

  Chastity made an unladylike moue of her own as she trailed behind the butler. The loveliness of the duchess’s décor caught her attention, and she quickly found herself drinking in the magnificent artwork and furnishings.

  Covered in pale ecru cream wallpaper that intersected with a furniture rail bisecting the upper and lower halves of the walls, the wide corridor stretched for what seemed acres before her. Blond wainscoting covered the bottom half.

  When she recognized the pale paneling as stykewood, found only on the winter continent at the top of the world, her eyebrows shot up. She whistled soundlessly, impressed against her will. Stykewood wasn’t easy to come by. This corridor represented wealth on a scale unknown to most of Paradyse’s inhabitants. Until today, she’d been aware of only one person rich enough to afford to panel a hallway with the stuff: her father.

  Why would the duchess summon me? What could possibly be behind her furtive comments? Why did she insist time was of the essence?

  Chassy sighed. She’d asked herself these questions over and over and had yet to come up with any reasonable answer. She hoped the duchess had good information, or at least a lead on her father’s would-be killer, because she resented having to be away from Dare for even the short time this morning visit would take.

  The butler halted before tall double doors and gestured for her to wait. Flinging the panels open, he stepped into the room and announced, “The Lady Chastity Tilson to see you, Your Grace.”

  Chastity sank into a graceful curtsey. “Your Grace...”

  “Well, it’s about time, young lady!”

  Chastity’s head snapped up. Her eyes widened in shock. Glad tears blurred her vision. “Father!”

  “Yes, Father. Your poor old father who has cooled his heels for over a week, waiting for his wayward daughter.” He held his arms out, a teasing smile wreathing his face.

  Completely forgetting the presence of the duchess, she flew into her father’s embrace, reduced to the little girl who had often sought comfort in his lap. In his arms, the constant fear and dread she’d lived with since his injury fell away. Only now did she realize how heavy the burden of wariness had weighed on her. Feeling light enough to fly, she laughed aloud, hugged her father, and burrowed closer as reaction finally set in.

  He patted her back, his tentative, awkward caresses so much a part of their relationship. Poor Dad -- he never knew what to do with her when she became emotional. She’d used his confusion to her advantage many a time.

  With a last hiccup, Chassy leaned back and scanned her father’s face, searching for signs of lingering illness. His face glowed with health, his ruddy complexion offset by his dear, familiar bushy eyebrows. He caught her watching and waggled them at her.

  She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered a heartfelt prayer of thanks. Her brows lowered and she stepped back, hands shooting to her waist. “You want to tell me why Liana stopped sending me reports? And why you never wrote to tell me you were okay... and why you hid here, instead of coming to Uncle David’s house?” She gasped, remembering something Liana had said. “Is he involved? Is that why you didn’t...?”

  Her father laid a finger across her lips, shushing her. “No, David may be a scoundrel, but he would never sully his hands by becoming involved in a murder. It wouldn’t be proper.”

  He fished out his handkerchief and mopped up her tears. “There. Are you better now?”

  She nodded, blowing her nose vigorously. She held out her hand, playfully offering to return the sodden cloth. She knew his fastidiousness. With a wry chuckle, the duke shook his head and backed away from the limp rag. “I think not, young lady!” He pointed at the used napkin. “That’s yours... at least until you have it laundered.”

  They both laughed, recalling numerous such times in their shared past. Cedric sobered. “It is good to be reunited with you. I wouldn’t have believed how much and how soon I missed you, child.”

  “I missed you, too, Daddy.”

  His face softened at the beloved term. “You haven’t called me that in a long time.”

  She smiled, tears near the surface again. “I know.”

  “I need your help, Chastity.”

  “Anything, of course.”

  “You’re not going to like your part, I’m afraid.”

  “What do you mean? What part?”

  Cedric exchanged a cryptic glance with Lucynda before addressing Chassy. “I understand you’ve begun an affai-- uh... an association with young Darian Acer.” A scowl twisted his face. “Not the sort of information a father wants to hear about his only daughter, by the way.”

  Chassy’s face flamed, the heat sudden and intense. She hated blushing. It made her look guilty when she felt no such emotion. “To be precise, I offered him carte blanche. We have since decided to marry.”

  Cedric grimaced. “You’ll be marrying, but the groom won’t be Dare-the-devil Acer.” He said the name with a sneer in his voice.

  Cold speared through her chest. Dread’s chilled fingers twisted her gut in knots. “Don’t blame Dare for this situation, Father. I love him and he loves me. I hurt him dreadfully by offering him carte blanche when he planned to offer marriage. He refused me, but I wouldn’t take no for an answer. I seduced him into making love to me. I can’t marry another, not even for you.”

  “Utter nonsense, m’dear. Most of Society doesn’t hold such antiquated ideas anymore. You’re the daughter of a duke, and the man I have in mind will gladly overlook your absent virginity. Talk to your uncle. Have him arrange the match.”

  “No. Besides, I still have a virginity... of sorts.”

  Her father’s entire face twitched as her meaning sank in. His mouth twisted. “Too much information, Chassy,” he wheezed, thumping his chest with a closed fist. “Have a care for my heart, young lady, and remember you’re talking to your father.” He sobered. “Have you forgotten I am trying to flush out a killer?”

  She frowned in confusion. “How will my marrying some man advance your program?” She thought a moment. “You know who it is. You’ve always known.”

  “Yes. However, I am not at liberty to disclose the person’s identity...” He glanced over at the rotund duchess. “A prior promise constrains me.”

  She followed his gaze and another piece of the puzzle fell into place. “The duchess has something to do with this. That’s why you came here.”

  Cedric nodded. “Her husband is an old friend. He is remaining silent about my visit while I clear up the misunderstanding with the crown. He knows nothing of Lucynda’s involvement.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “Neither do I, but that doesn’t matter. I’ve promised to marry Darian Acer, and I intend to honor that promise.”

  “And so you shall. Your groom is none other than the earl of Chesley.”

  The ringing in her ears drowned out her father’s voice. She heard nothing after the words, earl of Chesley. Vertigo swept over her and she fumbled her way to a settee. Plopping down, she closed her eyes and concentrated on staying conscious.

  “His father.” Angry tears flooded her eyes. Hatred for the man who’d abandoned his own son blazed within, the flames so hot their residue charred her vision, turned everything gray. “I loathe him,” she spat. “You have no idea the pain he’s put Dare through. He wouldn’t even allow Dare to attend his own mo
ther’s funeral! And this is the man you want to marry me off to...?”

  “‘Chesley’ is a Landing title. Under the circumstances, he’s a fitting choice. You might not be able to do better.”

  She countered, a sneer curling her lip. “I can do a lot better! His title does not erase his past. The earl of Chesley -- your contemporary -- is an old man, a mean, womanizing despot. He drove his son away and drove his wife insane with his infidelities.”

  “You know, Cedric, Chastity’s right. I certainly wouldn’t want any daughter of mine tied to that monster.” Lucynda joined the conversation for the first time.

  Chassy smiled at her, thankful for the support. Her father raised his hands in surrender. “All right, you two, I know when I’m beaten. You needn’t marry the man, but I need the ceremony to take place.” The two women opened their mouths to protest, and he hurried on before they could get their angry words out. “To almost take place.” He noticed their skeptical expressions. He placed his right hand over his heart. “I give my solemn promise I’ll stop the wedding before vows are exchanged if our culprit doesn’t show up.”

  “You’d better... or I will.” Chassy stood up, righted her dress, and made sure she had her reticule. “I need to get back and tell Dare about --”

  “No, you can tell him nothing.”

  Chassy’s hands tightened on the strings of her small purse. “Of course I must. He’s sure to hear the rumors about town, and I don’t want him upset or thinking I’d actually marry his father, for star’s sake.”

  Her father came to her, placed his hands on her shoulders, and drew her into his embrace. “Does your Dare love you enough to forgive you?”

  “What are you saying, Dad?” she whispered, tears clogging her throat. She didn’t want to hear whatever it was. The thought of making Dare believe she would dump him for another... seeing the hurt betrayal in his eyes... She closed hers. “I can’t bear to hurt him.”

  “If Dare learns the truth, his reaction will not be authentic. Our prey has eyes and ears among society. They will know if something, any little thing, is amiss. We’ll lose this opportunity. I’m not the only target. My would-be killer has to think you are in my confidence. You have now become an equal or greater threat.”

  He patted her shoulder, offering the only comfort he knew how. “People who know Dare will look for him to react a certain way. We need your ex-lover’s anger, his hurt bellowing, to make this appear legitimate. When this is all over, I will explain everything to him. I promise to make all right again.”

  “What if he can’t forgive me, Dad? What if I lose him forever?”

  “If he truly loves you...” Her father paused at the fierce look she shot him.

  “What do you know of true love?”

  He paled.

  “If I lose Dare over this, I’ll never forgive you. Your killer might as well shoot me, too, for I’ll be dead inside.” Sinking back down onto the settee, Chastity folded her arms on the raised rolled arm, tucked her face in the crook of her elbow, and burst into jagged tears.

  Chapter Thirteen

  It had been two weeks since Chastity gave Dare his conge, and Chezann was becoming worried. Dare hadn’t gotten over being dumped. It didn’t look as if he ever would. “Dare, please stop. If you drink any more, I’ll throw up.”

  “Shut up, C.C.,” Darian snarled, snatching the brimming tumbler from the reluctant waiter before his brother could intercept. His hand shook as he brought the glass to his lips. “I can still smell her -- taste her, so I can’t have drunk enough, yet.”

  Chezann propped his elbow on the bar, his chin on his palm, and gazed in pity at his older brother. He’d never seen Dare like this. Even in the days directly following the death of his brother and mother, his sibling had radiated an air of aloofness, maintained the impression he was impervious to pain.

  Today, the man looked a mess. Clothes wrinkled and unkempt, he slouched at the card table, idly rifling a worn deck of fago cards. Hair uncombed and beard unshaven, his bloodshot eyes glared out at the world, counting every inhabitant his mortal enemy.

  C.C.’s eyes narrowed. Jaw tight, he thought about Chastity and her fickle heartlessness, glad beyond words she’d seen fit to pass him up. The woman played hardball with people’s emotions, and he wished she’d one day experience even a small portion of the pain she so blithely dished out.

  Dare didn’t deserve what she’d done to him. It wasn’t right for her to use him then discard him for... How had she put it?... “The catch of the season.”

  “If she’d chosen any one other than my father, I could have understood it.” Darian had lifted his head and mumbled the words through dry, cracked lips. One glimpse of his eyes had C.C. lowering his, unwilling to see that level of gut-deep pain.

  “I mean, let’s face it -- I’m not the best catch. Disowned by my family, looked down upon by society -- she could easily find a better man than --”

  “Oh, hell, Dare. Spare me the self-pitying spiel.” C.C. slapped his hands on the table and leaned into his brother’s surprised face. “I’ve had it up to here with your sad rendition of a woman scorned.”

  Dare straightened up, his back stiffening against the chair. His lips thinned as he narrowed his eyes and tried to focus on his brother. “I thought you, of all men, would understand.”

  “The thing is, I do understand, Dare. I understand that you are going to sit here drinking yourself to death while the woman you love marries our father.” The thought made him sick to his stomach. Maybe he could make his brother sick enough to put a halt to the monumental disaster taking place as they spoke.

  “Just think about it... in a little while they’ll leave the church. Knowing our randy parent, he won’t wait long before he lifts her skirts -- probably stop along the way and fuck her in the carriage. Yeah, and while he has her heels in the air, she can grip his thick cock with her pussy -- Hey, did I ever tell you how my mother went on and on about him being built like a horse? -- and scream his name. Can’t you hear it?” Speaking in falsetto, he chimed, “Oh, Darian, yes... fuck me with your big cock, ram that pole up my tiny little ass!”

  “Mother fucker, C.C., shut the fuck up!”

  Outside, a cloud of angel-serpents spun and dipped in frenzied flight, their shrill cries disturbing and nerve-jangling.

  C.C. watched them, stunned at how they mirrored Dare’s emotions, had always done so. They and his brother shared a connection that had baffled the naturalists for years. No one else, before or since, had bonded with so many of the finicky avians.

  Moved by Dare’s pain, irritated by the high-pitched screams of the serpents, he still couldn’t allow himself to stop prodding. The wedding was scheduled for twelve o’clock, and it was past eleven. He had to shake Dare’s aplomb, force him into action before it was too late.

  “Ah, but you’ve already heard those words, haven’t you?” His hand gripped his brother’s arm. “Can you bear thinking about her calling your name while she lies under our grunting father, getting your next little brother or sister plowed into her? Can you bear it? Because I don’t think I can. I don’t want that lecher putting his filthy hands on her. If you don’t want her, I’ll take her. I’m going to try to stop the wedding.”

  A thud sounded against the window, and then another and another until the glass shook under the impact. The angel-serpents were attacking the window, trying to get in, trying to get to Dare.

  A waiter, frightened at the cacophony, ran from the room, a salver held over his head as a protective shield. On desperate impulse, C.C. went to the window and flung it open.

  A cloud of small bodies rushed past him, arrowing toward his brother. At the last minute, most veered off, content to circle his head and coo at him. Four of the largest mantled Darian’s shoulders and arms, rubbed their sinuous heads against him, their tiny forefeet petting and rubbing him. The fifth creature settled in his lap, reared up to place her small feet on his chest, and stared into his eyes, crooning a little trilling song.
>
  Dare broke.

  C.C. reacted quickly, knowing his brother would rather die than expose his feelings to the public. “Everybody out!” he shouted, waving his arms and herding the patrons and serving staff from the establishment. As he pushed the complaining owner toward the door, he thrust a thick wad of bills into the man’s hand. “I’m renting your place for the rest of the afternoon. Keep everyone out of here.” The owner shut up and closed the door behind him, his face wreathed in smiles.

  C.C. returned to his brother to find him literally covered in angel-serpents. Their mournful accompaniment was the perfect foil for a strong man’s tears, but the low, ululating cries raised the hair on his arms.

  Dare’s shoulders heaved as sobs poured from him, a rain of tears flooding his face. His body shook uncontrollably. “I love her. I love her until my heart hurts with it. I’d walk barefoot across glass shards to her, and she threw me away like yesterday’s trash.”

  “If you’d walk across glass, how hard can it be to walk across town? Or are you going to sit here and wallow in sorrow when you have one more chance to change her mind?”

  “You didn’t hear what she said to me when she gave me that obscene amount of money and told me we were finished. That she had a position to maintain and, as a society lady, she was expected to wed a particular type of man.”

  “Wait, Dare, hold it!” C.C.’s heart thumped with excitement. “She said all that, in those exact words? Are you sure?”

  “It’s burned in my memory. Her words will smolder in my mind ’til the day I die.”

  A grin spread his mouth wide. “Oh, brother, you need to get home and clean up. Better yet, clean up later. We have a wedding to halt.”

  “What are you talking about? Haven’t you heard a word I said?”

  He couldn’t help smiling. “I heard you, Dare. After all my work on getting you two back together, I want the first boy named after me... ‘Crofton,’ not ‘Chezann.’ No one deserves to be stuck with a name like ‘Chezann.’”