Page 41 of Master Wolf
They had reached the entrance now. Drew handed their vouchers to the doorman who stood aside to permit them entry.
Inside, the atrium blazed with candles and the strains of the orchestra drifted down from the floor above. A few patrons milled at the bottom of the staircase and Drew nodded politely to them as he guided Marguerite past them.
“Do you think Lindsay and Wynne will have arrived?” Marguerite asked as they ascended the stairs. “I cannot scent them.”
“Nor can I,” Drew said. “Shall we take a turn about the ballroom?”
Marguerite nodded.
The crowd was moderately but not uncomfortably busy. The small orchestra appeared to be taking a break and patrons milled about in groups, chattering and laughing. Couples promenaded around the ballroom, nodding to their acquaintances as they passed.
Drew and Marguerite were attracting some discreet attention. It wasn’t entirely surprising given that they were new in town and that Marguerite was absurdly beautiful—not to mention the fact that she was wearing a gown rather more daring than most of the ladies’, with the bustline cut a little lower and the hem a little higher. Her pale skin shone like moonlight against the deep red silk.
By the time they had completed one circuit of the large room, the orchestra players were picking up their instruments and beginning to blow and scrape and tune. The leader conferred briefly with another fellow who announced to the patrons that the next dance would be a foursome reel. Drew glanced questioningly at Marguerite.
“Do you want to dance?”
“Not really. At least not with you—no offence. I will save my slippers till they are needed. I want to stroll round again.”
They went around the perimeter one more time, pausing halfway for a glass of weak, warm punch which Marguerite pronounced abominable, before continuing on their way.
It was as they approached the ballroom doors again, that Drew’s attention was caught. He wasn’t even sure what it was that made him turn his head—he hadn’t scented Lindsay and clearly Marguerite hadn’t either—but suddenly Drew felt certain that Lindsay was there, and sure enough, when he glanced to the right, there Lindsay was, standing alone in the wide, open doorway to the ballroom, half-turned away from them, gazing in the other direction as he leaned heavily on his cane.
Drew’s heart twisted.
Lindsay looked sofrail.
He had always carried a cane, but until now, he had never used it for support.
As though he sensed Drew’s attention, Lindsay turned his head, and their eyes met. It was like being struck by an arrow, something sharp and swift and painful punching into Drew’s chest. And when Lindsay smiled—that uniquely sweet smile he only ever gave Drew—Drew wanted to howl with grief, his wolf scrabbling at his edges with desperate claws.
“There he is,” Marguerite murmured in Drew’s ear. She waved at Lindsay, who after a moment waved back, gesturing that he’d walk around the perimeter to meet them.
Marguerite immediately gestured back that he should stay where he was and grabbed Drew’s arm, pulling him forward. “He looks ready to fall over,” she muttered as she towed him through the crowd.
As they got closer, Drew noticed that the left sleeve of Lindsay’s coat was pinned up and his ulcerated arm was in a sling. He did not appear at all well. Pale and thin and yes, weak. But still shining with whatever it was that made himLindsay. Still with that mischief in his eyes that made him seem always to be amused by something.
Still damned near irresistible.
“He should be sitting down,” Drew muttered. “Aren’t there any chairs in this damned place?”
“All taken,” Marguerite replied, pointing at the cluster of mostly older ladies who had commandeered the two rows of chairs set up on the opposite side of the ballroom from the orchestra. The old ladies chattered contentedly as their charges progressed through the steps of another country dance, the feathered plumes on their heads nodding.
Despite his obvious physical pain, Lindsay’s smile deepened as Drew and Marguerite reached him. “You came,” he observed. “I hoped you would.”
“Did you doubt me?” Marguerite replied haughtily, offering her hand. “I am insulted!”
He chuckled, raising her fingers to his lips and depositing a kiss. “Never, my love.”
“Hmmm,” she replied, casting him an unconvinced look. "Where is Wynne?”
“Attending to some business,” Lindsay said vaguely, with a wave of his hand. “He will join us shortly.”
“And our Mr. Begg? Is he here?” I am eager to make his acquaintance.”
Lindsay raised his brows in query, inviting more.
“We have reason to think he may be a person of some interest to us, so I was delighted to get your note.”