Chapter 14: The Party

It hardly took the walk from the hansom up the broad, sweeping staircase to the massive open doors of the stunning stone mansion for my anxiety to double. I hated I felt anything of the sort and put on my sternest face in the hope my weakness wouldn't show.

I'd never been surrounded by such finery, or by so many people as stunningly dressed. The few times I'd attended functions with Mum had been interesting, but I now knew how much those people I'd met were merely playing at culture and sophistication. This was the real thing and I, New World raised as I was, had no idea how to handle it.

Fortunately, I had Kate, though I found she clung to my side almost as much as I wished to cling to hers. I hoped these friends she'd promised to introduce me to weren't as wall flowerish as she seemed to be. And yet, I'd sworn to stay out of Hugh's way, if not out of trouble, so perhaps a good bout of shyness and demure attitude was just what I needed.

How convenient the large mirrors near the entrance. And how shallow the ladies who paused to check themselves on the way by. The temptation was just too great, though I honestly wished I hadn't peeked again. Now that I was standing, I seemed to loom over everyone, my hair leading the way.

Atrocious. I was much prettier than that. What would everyone think? And yet all of the ladies I observed with surreptitious curiosity had upsweeps as elaborate if not more so, and each wore as much rouge and powder as myself. I began to compare myself as I stood there. This one was too skinny while that one too plump...

I shook myself free from such frivolous thoughts. I disliked this side of myself so intensely I started looking around for something to do, someone to talk to or engage in some other activity, anything to relieve the sour feeling in my stomach I refused to admit was fear. I'd shot a bear with a bow at three hundred feet. A crossbow, mind you, and it was totally a fluke of an accident, but I'd done it and not felt this insidious creeping weakness. It was no wonder Kate was so soft, living with the kind of pressure this completely inane occasion created.

And she enjoyed it? Longed for it, even? I had no idea where the girl's head was.

I tried to copy her walk as she minced her way through the massive grand foyer and into a giant ballroom. The floor shone in the light of the giant chandelier and from countless sconces around the room. The entire back wall was glass, looking out over a stunning garden, also well lit, with an enormous fountain spraying a feathered plume of continuous water.

The stone underfoot turned to polished hardwood, slick under my fancy shoes. No wonder Kate walked the way she did. I figured one broad stride and I'd be on my padded satin backside.

The place was already full of people, most of who chatted and laughed, making the place echo with constant noise. Kate's sudden squeal of delight made me jump. For once she took the lead, grabbing my arm and pulling me along with her toward a group of young women, all similarly dressed in a pretty rainbow of colors. I had a moment to admire their dresses while mentally comparing them to mine while Kate hugged and kissed each of them.

At last she turned to me, as if they weren't already staring. "May I present my very dear friend, Auburdeen Hayle of New York."

A stunning blonde with pearls in her hair to match her shimmering white gown smiled at me, though it was the type of smile which made me wonder if she meant it as a welcome or some kind of threat. "Kate's been talking about you for weeks now." She hugged me like I was contagious and kissed me twice on either cheek without touching her lips to my skin. "Delightful to finally meet you, Lady Hayle."

I was certain the girl knew I wasn't nobility. Why the mistake?

"Burdie, this is Lady Abriella Strathmore, daughter of Lord Charles Strathmore, Baron of Sutton."

"My pleasure," I said. "But I'm not a lady. It's just Burdie."

The group of clucking hens laughed at me. Ah. No mistake then. She clearly wanted me to proclaim my common blood. I liked Abriella less and less by the moment while her blue eyes narrowed. "Such a charming accent. And a delightful nickname." I knew she was being hateful, but wasn't sure why. Until she continued. "Have you no royalty in that backwater where you live?"

Kate gasped softly and I saw her flush out of the corner of my eye. But whether she knew it or not, miss fine lady Abriella had done me a world of favors. With my temper flaring, I was finally able to shake the nerves plaguing me and faced her down in all my Hayleness. Lady or not, nobility or not, I knew her type and just how to handle her.

Careful not to tap my power while still instilling my dominance, I straightened to my full height, which, hair and all, was quite impressive, I'm sure and settled my face into my best coven leader expression. I'd been practicing for quite some time, even if Mum only recently admitted she was to follow that path. I always intended to fill the role some way or another.

"I don't require one of your empty titles," I said at my most cold and terrible. "I am a Hayle."

A soft murmur made its way through the now quiet pack of young ladies. Even Abriella seemed suddenly unsure.

"That means nothing here." She gave her little ploy a second go around. Pathetic, really.

I laughed. She looked so startled by my amusement I was certain no one had made her the butt of a joke before. At least not to her very pretty face.

"Than I shall go elsewhere." I turned and strode off, almost forgetting the shoes on my feet. It wouldn't do to make a grand exit only to fall and humiliate myself. I cheated, using magic to keep myself upright until I was far enough away from them I could stop striding and catch my balance.

I was slightly hurt Kate hadn't followed me, but knew she probably saw little choice. She was forced to fit in with these horrid girls and their terrible manners. Now on my own, I looked around for someone to amuse me and immediately caught the eye of a small cluster of young lords who smiled and beckoned me closer.

Perfect, really. And much more my speed. I was able to quickly dissuade them from their attempts to treat me like an ordinary girl and was soon seated among them, sipping a glass of very fine whiskey and smoking the most delightful cigar while debating the merits of horse breeds and brands of rifles.

"The American Quarter horse is far superior," I drawled, tapping my ashes in a heavy stone tray, foot bobbing at the end of my crossed leg. "Your European Thoroughbreds don't have the stamina they used to."

One of my sparring partners, a rather attractive young lord who had introduced himself as David Spencer, Lord of Whilloughby-wherever that was-choked on his whiskey, brown eyes alight with good humor.

"No doubt these Quarter Horses of yours are good, solid stock," he said, winking at his brother Philip beside him, "bred for harsher climes such as the Americas. We require more refinement here in England."

I knew he was baiting me. Grinned around my cigar at him while I sat back. "Indeed," I said, nodding. "All that inbreeding certainly creates the delicacy you're looking for."

His friends roared with laughter while David bowed. "Touché, Miss Hayle."

"I'm dying to try one of your new Winchester rifles." Philip wasn't nearly as attractive as his brother, being cursed with a rather crooked nose, but his smile was easy and he seemed friendly enough.

"Yes, they're marvelous." At last, talk I could sink my teeth into! "Father has one, promised me my own for my next birthday. I've fired it, love the weight. And accuracy."

"You'll be turning into one of those Wild West cowgirls we read about in the pulps," David laughed.

Wouldn't that just be delicious?

I was quite content to continue my discussion when, to my shock, the crowd of my admirers parted and Samuel Brindle appeared. His smile was oily, the best way I have to describe it, as though something nasty lived behind his lips he tried to disguise with kindness.

"Miss Hayle," he said, extending one hand, "if you would be so kind as to allow me a dance."

I really didn't want to. The thought of touching him actually made my skin creep. But it appeared I had little choice since my collection of young lords scattered at his arrival.

I butted out the stub of my cigar in the heavy stone ashtray, swallowed the last gulp of whiskey and stood on my own. The less I had to touch him, the better.

Not much of a dancer, I allowed him to lead and did my best to keep up. There was one moment when our skin met and the power crawled up my arm, but it passed to my great relief.

"Are you enjoying yourself, my dear?"

Seemed an odd question as he'd obviously interrupted me in the middle of a very satisfying conversation with some incredibly handsome and charming young men.

"Yes, thank you," I said.

"Excellent. My house is graced by your presence here."

His house? "I didn't realize," I said, a stammer in my voice.

"Did my dear sister not mention this was my event this evening?" He said it lightly, but there was an edge to his voice making me wonder about him even more. When I shook my head, he said, "Ah well, no matter." I was tall, but he towered over me and I wondered at the difference in Georgina and her brother. "I've been so wrapped up in my affairs, I haven't as yet had the chance to talk to you, aside from the unfortunate unpleasantness last evening. I remember your mother Thaddea fondly and hope you and I can become friends."

There was nothing overly creepy in the way he said it, nor any undertones of anything inappropriate. And yet, I wanted to jerk free of him and run away.

"You're a busy man, from what I've been told," I said. It sounded very weak to me.

If he agreed he didn't show it. "I've been paying close attention to the Tremere succession," he said, spinning me slowly as the music swelled around us. "Though I fear we here across the Atlantic are only hearing a fraction of what's been happening, I'm sure. Everyone is waiting with much anticipation, as I know you must be."

Was there something specific he wanted? I was reluctant to talk to him about family business. "I'm certain you know as much as, if not more than, I do, my lord."

"Samuel, please," he said, pale green eyes staring into mine. "I will always be Samuel to you."

We were interrupted that very heartbeat by a bowing servant and I was incredibly grateful because had the young woman in maid's dress not broken our gaze, and with it his grip on me, I'm certain he would have felt I was already pulling away. Perfect timing saved me from the embarrassment of having to publicly tell him to let me go.

"Forgive me, my dear," he said, bowing over my hand. A tingle ran between us, drawing out a blush from me. "We'll talk again soon, I'm certain of it."

He left me there, shaking slightly, becoming angry with myself that I allowed him to stir such negative emotion when he really did nothing to deserve it.

"Burdie," Kate appeared at my elbow, "are you all right?"

I glanced at her, saw the flush in her cheeks and the worry in her eyes and realized from the glances I was receiving my expression must be showing my temper. I quickly reined myself in and tried a smile that stuck.

"Fine," I said. "Done with your ladies, then?"

She shook her head only a very little, lips drawing into a tight line. "They aren't my ladies," she said. "To be honest, I only know them because Mother has forced them on me." She looked near to tears, the poor dear. "I'm sorry they were so rude to you."

My hard smile became an easy grin. "Not to worry," I said, hooking my arm through hers as I spotted my cowardly group of admirers gathered back at the bar, waving at me to rejoin them. "Your mother wants you to find a nice young man, doesn't she?"

Kate flushed. I set out with her close at my side and the intention to enjoy myself no matter what.

They welcomed us with great enthusiasm and soon Kate had her own small cluster of lords who treated her with gentle teasing and great charm. But the whole game had lost its luster for me, their play making me cranky and tired. I waited to be sure Kate would be all right before disengaging myself from the crowd with the assurance I would return and headed off for a breath of fresh air.

I slipped around a group of late arrivals, spotting Georgina almost too late. Just as her head lifted, her eyes searching me out, I spun and headed down a carpeted corridor. That was a conversation I didn't need at the moment. No, I was not having fun. My feet hurt, even more than from the long walk the night previous. Everything around me seemed tawdry and false. All those titles, all the arrogance that went with it, gave me a headache.

It would appear having royal blood did nothing to alter the fact that a bit of power in the wrong hands is a terrible thing indeed.

Knowing how petty these lordlings and ladies were, I was happy to be common.

My homesickness chose then to reappear and I spent the next several minutes walking the seemingly endless corridors of the house while feeling terribly sorry for myself.

Since going home wasn't an option, I finally managed to shake my doldrums and, at that point, looked up and around me. Only to discover I was lost in a dark, silent part of the mansion with no windows.

Excellent, Burdie. Well done. Good show and all that.

I drew a deep breath. It's not like I'd done irreparable harm. I was lost in a house, not some underground labyrinth. And I had my magic to guide me if I really ran into trouble. The mundane solution was obvious. I listened for the sounds of the party.

It took a moment, but I finally caught the timber of voices. I turned and went in their direction, following with purpose. My feet were so uncomfortable by then I paused to strip off the hateful shoes, carrying them in one hand while I hiked the hem of my skirt with the other to keep from tripping. Thus able to walk more normally, I strode off in search of civilization.

I was moving so quickly, I rounded a corner and almost ran into the source of the voices. What I saw made me freeze and gape, allowing the two large men, dragging a slim young man between them, to continue on without knowing I was there at all.

I backed up slowly, retreating around the corner, peeking at them as they stopped before a door. One of them used a key, opened it. A light was on in the room, shining out through the now open portal, illuminating the face of their captive.

I knew these men. Had fought them in an alleyway the night before. One of them bore a black eye I'd gifted him with. And between them, half conscious and obviously not able to take care of himself, thank you, was Jack Bishop.

***