Surlock wanted to hate him, but he knew Darcy could never be romantically interested in a guy like Peter. He had no courage. His wealth had made him soft, and he acted superior to everyone else. Surlock would keep a watchful eye on him.
“Why don’t we go downstairs and put our heads together? See what we can come up with.” Darcy didn’t wait for them to follow. Instead, she grabbed Surlock’s hand and pulled him along with her, whispering her thanks that he had saved her from the werewolf story as they hurried down the stairs.
He was glad he could help. It should make him feel better, but he couldn’t stop thinking about the movie they’d watched. He’d convinced Darcy that he wasn’t like the monster on the screen—the werewolf—but he wasn’t so sure. Something had taken over his mind and body. But what?
Once they were downstairs, Darcy took them to a room with places to sit. He stopped at the entryway and looked around. It was familiar, reminding him of another room, except with stone walls, and a fireplace so large he could walk inside and stand. On cold days there would be a roaring fire, the flames crackling and spitting, embers shooting up the chimney.
The vision was so clear he could see a man sitting on one of the chairs, laughing at something another man had said. He had a feeling they were his brothers. He clamped his lips together to keep from calling out to people he knew weren’t really there. He could only stand in silence as he drank in the sight of them, searching for something familiar. He closed his eyes tight, then opened them.
A jaguar sauntered into the room. Surlock held his breath, but the cat didn’t attack. She went to one of the men, rubbing her head against his leg. The man only laughed and leaned down to scratch the cat behind the ear.
“Come, sit beside me, Surlock,” Darcy said, patting the seat beside her.
Surlock looked around. Gone were the stone walls, his brothers, and the jaguar. He drew in a deep breath. The humming in his head was faint.
“You okay?” Darcy asked.
Jennifer and Peter looked at him as they took their seats.
“I’m fine. It’s a nice room.”
“We like it.” Darcy continued to study him.
He smiled and went to sit beside her. What had just happened? The jaguar must be a pet. But somehow, he didn’t think so. He thought it was more than that. Nothing clicked.
He would rather be alone with Darcy so he could talk to her about this new vision. He wished Peter and Jennifer hadn’t come over. Not that he disliked Jennifer, although he didn’t think she trusted him. He couldn’t blame her. She didn’t know anything about him, and every time Jennifer asked him a question, Darcy would interrupt so Surlock never had to really explain anything.
“Of course, I’ve already sent out invitations to everyone I know. So far it will be a small crowd. Around two hundred,” Peter said. “And I have the catering service. I actually have them on retainer. I’m just at a loss as to what sort of theme I should do, and I’m running out of time.”
Surlock watched each one of them closely. It would seem the lack of a party theme was extremely important, although he couldn’t understand why. Jennifer kept shaking her head whenever Peter suggested something, which made Peter quite agitated.
“The party is this Saturday, Jennifer, and you’ve shot down every idea I’ve had. I have to have some kind of decorations. It’s a masquerade party, but I need something cohesive that will pull it altogether,” Peter said. He was frowning when he turned toward Darcy. “And you’ve been absolutely no help, Darcy.”
“I’m sorry,” she told him.
One of the maids came into the room. “There’s an Annette Barrymore to see you, Miss Darcy.”
“Show her in,” Darcy told her.
Peter sat a little straighter. “What’s she doing here? I didn’t invite her.” He smoothed his hand over his hair and straightened his jacket.
“I called her before we left your house. I thought she might be able to help. Fresh ideas, and all,” Jennifer told him. “Besides, I like her.”
“Hi, everyone,” Annette said as she came into the room, then stumbled to a stop when she saw Peter. Her face turned a bright red. “Oh, I didn’t know you would be here, Peter.”
“Have a seat. We’re having a terrible time trying to figure out the decorations for Peter’s party,” Jennifer said. She cast a look at Peter that had him shutting his mouth without saying a word. “I’m bringing her to the party as my friend. I knew you wouldn’t object, Peter.”
“Whatever.” He waved his arm in the air. But his gaze kept straying to Annette.
Annette slunk over to the nearest chair and sat down. “I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.” She hugged the small chair pillow as if it were a shield that might protect her from Peter’s sharp words.
“Exactly,” Peter said, then looked at Jennifer as if she’d lost her mind inviting Annette.
“We’re glad you’re here,” Darcy stated firmly. “I’m sure you’ll come up with something. What do you think of when I say masquerade ball?”
“I’m not sure—”
“Of course not,” Peter said. “I mean, how many masked balls have you attended?”
Annette threw the pillow at Peter. He didn’t move fast enough and it hit him square in the face with a thunk. “I haven’t been to any masked balls, Peter, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a brain.” She glared at him.
“I didn’t say you had no brain,” he huffed.
“You might as well have. Just because you have lots of money, you think you’re better than me, but you’re not, so cut the crap.”
Surlock didn’t try to stop his laughter. He wanted to applaud because Annette had stood up for herself.
“Bravo,” Jennifer said.
The exchange was interesting. Rather than look affronted by Annette’s outburst, Peter seemed quite pleased.
“Touché,” Peter said. “I apologize for my rudeness.”
“Apology accepted,” she said, raising her chin.
Ahh, so Darcy had been correct when she’d said Peter was interested in Annette. He’d forgotten what else she’d told him. Something about Peter never being given the chance to think for himself, and that his parents expected him to join with the right woman. Surlock was starting to like Annette, and couldn’t understand why she would not make Peter a suitable mate.
“Do you have an idea for the theme of the party?” Peter asked Annette.
“Well,” she began, her confidence slipping just a fraction. “When I think of masked balls, I think of Mardi Gras. You know, like they have in New Orleans with parades.”
“Well done,” Darcy said. “That’s a brilliant idea. You could even have a king and queen.”
“Ohhh—” Jennifer sat forward. “You could give out beads at the door. What fun.”
Everyone looked at Peter, who hadn’t said a word. He looked at each of them, but his gaze stopped and stayed on Annette. Then he smiled. “I think it’s a brilliant idea, but can we pull it off by this Saturday?”
“Of course, I can,” Jennifer said. “I can do anything.”
Peter clapped his hands, and came to his feet. “We have a ton of work to do before Saturday, so back to my house to make all the arrangements.” When Annette didn’t move, Peter held out his hand. “You’ll come as well, won’t you?”
“You don’t need me,” she said, blushing.
Peter studied her. “I think I do. I think I need you more than I ever could have imagined.”
She shyly took his hand and rose to her feet.
“Every king needs a queen, and of course, since it was your idea, you’ll be my queen.”
“I couldn’t.” She looked at everyone.
“Yes, you can.” Jennifer laughed. “You might even make Peter look good.”
“That was not funny.” Peter frowned.
“Actually, it was,” Darcy said as she stood.
“You’re ganging up on me, too, are you? Not fair.”