to wonder over until the dreaded ball. “Well… Let’s do go home, Gareth, I need to bathe and—”
The man beside her tripped on absolutely nothing. With impressive reflexes and an extra step, he was able to prevent a fall or even much of a spectacle.
“Bloody rocks,” he muttered.
She said nothing, not wishing to embarrass him. Though her conversation with Bainbridge was troubling, she felt a bit lighter than before. How fortunate she was that Gareth had been here today, prompting her to ask the correct questions.
What a boon to have a forthright and honest man at her side. Looking out for her. Listening to her troubles. Offering support and wisdom. Giving her the confidence to act on her own.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have that always?
Chapter 6
Gabriel had assumed that once he was rid of his mask, he’d never wish to lay eyes upon it again.
It troubled him how much he wanted it now.
Even dressed in an impeccable evening suit, he could never hope to blend in.
Which meant he stood out, especially amongst the ton.
It was known he was a servant, of a sort, but not one that could be kept busy and invisible, such as a footman or a maid. His job was to watch, and his gaze made people mindful of their behavior.
Exactly no one appreciated that feeling.
While some regarded him with caution, hostility, disgust, or outright fear, he found that easy to ignore. What puzzled him the most was the reactions of several women to his presence.
Curiosity.
He leaned against a wall adjacent to a sideboard laden with largely untouched canapés, doing his best to disappear into the wallpaper. He’d noted that many of the women in the grand ballroom seemed to fabricate reasons other than food to gracefully flit by him like a cadre of vibrant butterflies.
In fact, he’d retrieved more than a half dozen accidentally discarded handkerchiefs from the floor in front of him. Had held multiple drinks as one lady or other fixed a bunched hem or broken lace behind the fern to his left, exposing varying lengths of their ankles and calves. A matronly marchioness had quite lost her balance and fell into his arms in an apparent swoon. She’d somehow made it impossible to avoid the press of her abundant bosoms as he righted her, and had promised him her generous gratitude if he called upon her tomorrow after her husband had gone to the House of Lords.
Indeed, more than a handful of married ladies did their utmost to convince their husbands that they were in need of his particular personal protection just as much as any orphaned, bookish baron’s daughter. One of them had overtly gestured to his features and proportions as a deterrent from a husband’s jealousy. What would he have to worry about around such an ungainly brute?
Unsurprisingly, he received no offers of employment from any man in the room.
Not only did the attention make him feel freakish and uncomfortable, but it also made his job more difficult than it ought to be.
Felicity was the only woman who deserved his attention tonight. All others were nothing more than an irritation.
An irritation that was swiftly compounding by the stifling heat and closeness of the ballroom, the fiendishly relentless music, and the sheer number of men who’d held Felicity Goode in their arms that evening.
In Gabriel’s imagination, he’d already broken seven arms and gouged out numerous eyes.
This was hell.
Lucifer himself was taking his due earlier than expected, by making him watch her smile up at elegant and well-mannered men of her class.
And wondering if he would be the man to win her.
As promised, she and Lord Bainbridge had shared a sedate dance, and the man had been nothing but solicitous and polite.
He’d relinquished her company to a squat, red-faced hedgehog of a man upon whom she bestowed a benevolent smile, and even struck up a lively chat.
All the while, others laughed behind their gloves and their fans.
At her. At her partner.
Several lordlings lingered around the food, gazing at her like wolves circling a wide-eyed fawn. They grinned their sharp-toothed grins as they guessed who would next come up on her card. They bragged about saving her from having to kiss a toad like Lord Kessinger. About dazzling her with their pedigrees and their family estates.
All the while, Gabriel yearned to tear them all open. Sternum to throat.
He stood at the ready, waiting for them to give him a reason.
Just one.
After an eternity, the waltz ended, and the benighted Mr. Kessinger escorted her