‘I am not for sale.’ She spoke slowly, coldly, all the while holding his gaze with an implacable force that matched those of the words. ‘So if you would be so kind as to release my wrist I do not believe we have anything more to say to one another.’
She saw the flare of incredulity in his eyes.
‘What new tactic is this?’
‘No tactic. It is the truth.’
‘We have been in negotiations for months.’
‘No, we have not. You have sent me letters making offers. I have never replied to a single one of them.’
There was a silence in which the light in his eyes hardened. ‘You led me to believe…’
‘If I did, then I apologise, for it was never my intent.’
‘Never your intent?’ The incredulity was still there, but laced with anger this time. ‘I beg to differ, madam. You have been teasing me, cultivating my interest all of these months past.’
‘I have made my position clear.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Have you already reached an arrangement with Devlin?’
‘I have not,’ she said with a calmness that belied the harried beat of her heart and the prickle of fear that was driving it even faster. ‘Although it would be none of your business were I to do so.’
‘You think to make a fool of me before all of London. To dangle me from your fingers for yours and the ton’s amusement.’
‘This conversation is at an end.’ She tried to wrench her wrist from his grip, but Hawick’s fingers tightened, imprisoning her.
‘Not yet, Venetia.’
She felt the spiralling panic and quelled it with a will of iron.
‘You go too far, sir.’
‘Or not far enough.’ He leaned closer and the brandy was strong upon his breath. His eyes stared down into hers for a moment and she could see in them both anger and lust.
‘Unhand me!’
‘I do not like to be made a fool of.’
‘The ballroom is full,’ she threatened.
‘But we are all alone in here, Miss Fox.’ His free hand ranged over her hip, over her buttock, pulling her close enough that her thigh brushed against his arousal. ‘Besides, they all know the situation between us.’
‘No!’ she snapped. Her mind was whirring. She knew she could not start screaming like a débutante. And he was right, no one would believe her. She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘Release me,’ she said again, more fiercely this time, and struggled against him, but his mouth was already moving to take hers.
‘I believe the lady does not wish your attentions, Hawick.’ The familiar voice came from the shadows, low in volume, but loud in menace.
Hawick’s gaze shot round as Linwood stepped from the corner of the room. The moonlight cast his features in stark relief, making his dark hair look only darker and his eyes as black as the devil’s. His features were as perfect and cold and sculpted as those of the marble statues that surrounded them. The wolf’s eyes in his walking cane glittered as hard as his own. In the moonlight and shadows, he looked like the most handsome, most dangerous man in the world. Danger and threat exuded from his every pore. Everything of his stance, everything of his posture was sleek, poised and watchful, and yet with that underlying edge of aggression.
‘This is between me and Miss Fox. You are not stupid, Linwood. I am a powerful man, a rich man.’ Hawick glared at Linwood. ‘If you know what is good for you, you will turn around and walk away.’
‘That sounds like a threat.’
‘Take it as you will.’
The tension in the small gallery bristled. Venetia’s heart was beating so fast she felt sick. She held her breath, waiting for Linwood to do just that. Turn. Walk away. Leave her to Hawick.
‘I am not going anywhere,’ Linwood said in his quiet, dangerous voice.
The silence that followed was tight and tense. The two men watched one another, like two dogs with hackles raised.
‘Oh, I see,’ said Hawick with the air of a man making a discovery. ‘It’s not Devlin bidding against me, after at all, is it? It’s you.’
‘Step away from Miss Fox.’
‘And if I choose not to?’ Hawick said.
Linwood looked at Hawick and the expression in his eyes was one of absolute violence, a declaration that nothing was too far, a promise of death. She felt her blood run cold just at the sight of it. Hawick must have seen it, too, for where he held her still she felt the change in him.
‘Get out,’ Hawick said to her and, releasing his grip on her, pushed her across the gallery towards the door. ‘But know that this is not finished between us, Venetia.’
‘It is more than finished, Hawick,’ said Linwood darkly.
‘We will see about that, Linwood.’
‘Close the door behind you, Miss Fox,’ said Linwood.
She hesitated to leave, afraid of what might happen between the two men. Hawick was taller and heavier than Linwood, but Linwood was lithe and lean and strong, and with such dark deadliness about him.
Linwood’s gaze met hers for the first time since he had interrupted Hawick.
She gave a nod and, turning, hurried from the gallery, leaving the two men alone.
Venetia took her time threading her way around the periphery of the floor, as if she were as cool and unfazed as ever when the truth was quite the opposite, until at last she found Alice.
‘You enjoying yourself?’ Alice looked happy.
‘As ever.’
‘Bleedin’ hell!’ Alice blurted, but she was no longer looking at Venetia. She was staring instead at a point somewhere in the distance over Venetia’s shoulder with a look of fascinated horror.
The faces around them were staring, too, at the same thing that held Alice transfixed. The music came to a natural halt and in the gap there was the spread of the hushed murmur like a wave across the ballroom.
Venetia felt the shiver of foreboding ripple across her scalp and all the way down her spine. She did not want to look, but she was already turning, just as everyone else was.
Hawick was making his way through the crowd towards the door. The white of his shirt and cravat was splattered scarlet with blood and he was holding a large bloodied handkerchief to his nose.
Venetia’s eyes widened.
‘What on earth happened to him?’ Alice whispered.
Venetia
