NINETEEN
DEAR GOD, SYNTON. When Vexley suggested we all play hide-and-seek, he wasn’t talking about your—”
“Don’t finish that,” Envy warned, ready to lay waste to the whole of Waverly Green.
Lord Harrington, Envy recalled. The dolt was making sure his voice carried across the hedge maze, drawing a second man, Walters, to bear witness. They were too drunk to notice how still he’d gone, or how dangerous that was.
If Envy hadn’t been on the verge of whisking Camilla away, he would have heard the imbecile coming. Lord Garrey had proven himself to be a player, all right. And while Camilla had gotten to him first, Envy should have.
The bastard had nearly killed her on Envy’s own property. Envy had made a horribly wrong call. He’d summoned Alexei to follow a second lord who’d been curious about the Unseelie art, thinking Garrey was still in the ballroom, dancing with Widow Janelle.
Garrey must have left shortly after Camilla did, following her into the maze.
Alexei would ensure that Lord Garrey succumbed to the wounds Camilla had inflicted. Envy’s only regret was not being able to do the deed himself.
Camilla whimpered, hiding in his arms, and he jolted to their current dilemma. The lords moronic and idiotic were causing a scene.
“Are you giving it to that woman right there?” Harrington stepped closer and laughed. “Is that Miss Antonius? Vexley will have your balls.”
With the power of his sin instantly rushing through him, and the heat of Camilla’s body still lingering in his magic, it took enormous restraint not to murder the mortal right then. The last thing Envy needed was any other reason to attack him.
His restraint only grew more impressive as Walters swaggered over and called out too.
Camilla had already suffered enough. Envy was grateful he’d had the foresight to restore her gown along with her injuries with a bit of magic, and only felt marginally weakened from the use of it. No one would think anything violent had just occurred where they stood.
“Look what we have here!” Walters shouted. “Satire sheets will rejoice tonight!”
Camilla stiffened in his arms, finally breaking out of her shocked state.
Envy turned to further shield her from the loathsome lords and dropped his voice so only she could hear.
“Now would be a wonderful time to tell me if you accept the bargain or not.”
Incredulity laced her voice.
“Why bother? It’s too late—I’m ruined as we speak.”
Like hell she was.
If Camilla was already ruined, then the forgery wouldn’t matter, and Envy would no longer have a winning chip to cash in. He wouldn’t go down so easily as Garrey tonight.
He felt the crowd slowly growing larger behind him, knew time was running out.
They were already falling down a cliff to ruination. The more witnesses, the harder it would be to dig themselves out of the mess.
He racked his mind for a new strategy, something he could offer Camilla that would save them both. A solution came to him. It was one he’d wanted to avoid at all costs, but he saw no other way out now.
And he paused for another reason too. Once he opened his mouth, this would count as his third attempt to secure Camilla’s help. He had to hope this plan was the one to see him move forward.
“Camilla, look at me.” He stooped a bit, to bring her level to his eyes. “I promised to protect you. Let’s pretend we’re betrothed until this scandal passes.” She blinked. Did she understand? He tried again. “It’s a good deal and you know it. You’ll get what you desire and so will I.”
She was quiet for a strained second that had his cold, black heart pumping fast.
Please, he silently urged, don’t damn my court. Not now.
“You can’t be serious,” she finally whispered. “After what I just did…”
It wasn’t a no.
Envy tugged his mask free, allowing her to see how serious he was. The stakes couldn’t be higher for him. And now they couldn’t be higher for her.
“I assure you I am. Deadly so. The choice is yours, Miss Antonius. Salvation or ruination. Quickly now. What will it be?”
TWENTY
TIME SEEMED TO stand still as Camilla considered Synton’s offer.
It was the best option she had, she supposed, considering the circumstances. Although she couldn’t understand why he’d want anything to do with her after… what she’d just done.
The violence, the blood, the pain. She exhaled, trying to push that attack from her mind.
Unlike Vexley, Synton wasn’t blackmailing her or forcing her hand. He hadn’t manufactured this discovery, had previously admitted to wanting to avoid playing any society games.
The fact that she’d just mortally stabbed someone on his estate, and he’d assisted in covering it up, was certainly something they’d need to discuss. But he’d protected her. Held her when she started to fall apart.
She glanced down at herself, wondering at her dress. The lack of bruising. If she went to the authorities, no one would believe she’d been brutalized. Had Synton used magic to heal her? It was possible if he’d visited the dark market like she’d told him to.
“Miss Antonius?” he prompted quietly. “Do you accept?”
If she was Synton’s intended, Vexley wouldn’t be able to try to coerce her into marriage himself. And if he tried to blackmail her again, she had a feeling Synton would be more than happy to dissuade him.
And if Synton succeeded in locating her father’s key?
It was almost too good to hope for.
The lord’s patient gaze was fixed on her face, his own expression impossible to read. But for one moment he’d given her a look filled with such hope, such silent urging, she’d known how desperate he was. She knew next to nothing about him, but her instincts said to trust him.
Camilla nodded.
“I accept.”
In a flash he pulled a pear-shaped emerald-and-diamond ring from his pocket and placed it on her finger, its size wildly large on her tiny hand. The ring was beautiful, expensive.
Territorial.
No one would be able to miss the damn thing.
She pressed her lips together, wondering why he’d conveniently had this in his pocket. But her suspicions faded in the next second, as Synton twisted and punched Harrington in the mouth, the sound like a whip crack in the sudden quiet.
The lord cursed, stumbling back as blood poured down his chin.
Walters jumped back too and screeched before tearing off across the maze.
Camilla could only stare, unblinking, at the scene before her. Harrington wasn’t a small man by any means, but Synton had dispatched him with only one punch. And it looked as if he’d restrained himself.
Exactly how strong was he?
“Are you bloody mad?” Harrington yelled. “You broke a tooth!”
Synton landed another solid blow to his opponent’s middle and Harrington went down.
“Now you’ve got a matching rib. If you ever speak of my betrothed in such a manner again, I’ll rip your tiny, limp cock off and shove it down your throat. Have I made myself clear?”
“What in God’s name is going on here, gentlemen? Though I use the term gentlemen very loosely.”
Lady Katherine rushed upon their little gathering. Tossing her gray mask aside, she looked between Synton and Harrington before scrutinizing Camilla.
A hundred questions were brewing behind her steady gaze, and Camilla knew she’d demand answers later, but for now Katherine seemed appeased and stared down at Harrington, shaking her head.