Page 22 of The Gods Time Forgot

Twenty-Two

“I think tonight is going rather well, don’t you?” Rua asked Flossie. She didn’t know what the Fitzgeralds had put in their alcohol, but no fewer than four gentlemen had asked her to dance.

“Two out of the four are notorious gamblers, the third is a nobody, and the fourth, well, he isn’t very handsome, now, is he?” Flossie pressed her lips together while her eager eyes scanned the ballroom for her next victim. Rua wondered if all the other mothers in the ballroom were this horrible.

Flossie continued, “I must say that I’m most disappointed in the resurgence of the lord’s interest in Annette. I had hoped that he might focus his attentions elsewhere.” Her eyes fixed on Rua.

Rua had hoped so too.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t utterly shocked to see the attention Finn was paying Annette this evening. She supposed it was her birthday, but it didn’t ring true.

She’d thought they had turned a corner, even with Mara thwarting their efforts for privacy in the evenings. That their flirtations were turning into more. Their mornings at breakfast were her favorite part of the day.

“Did you really think moving him into our home was going to make him want to marry me?” Rua asked bitterly. Marriage to Finn wasn’t what she wanted, but that wasn’t the point.

“I certainly didn’t think it would hurt. It doesn’t matter now, does it? Mrs. Fitzgerald is telling everyone that he’s proposing. Tonight.” Flossie shook her head.

Rua sucked in a harsh breath. “Tonight?” After everything that had happened, after everything Annette had done to her? Finn’s duplicity enraged her.

Flossie nodded. “And I assume she only wanted you here to stick our noses in it. I never would have let you come had I known.”

Rua glanced over at the new couple sipping their lemonade but couldn’t tolerate the sight of them. She cursed, wondering how she’d allowed herself to become so involved.

“You’ll just have to try harder, hmm? You could do with being a bit more pleasant. Now, give me your dance card.” Flossie stuck out her hand.

Rua forced down the lump in her throat, ignored the throbbing in her head, and handed over the ridiculous card that declared her desirable.

It disturbed her that if this little piece of paper was filled, she would not be scorned as a wallflower. Even more disturbing than the misogyny was her own delight that it was filled. She hated that it mattered to her and hated even more that Finn was not on the card.

The lines between her life and Emma’s were blurring beyond recognition.

“I’m going to sit over there. I need a little break.” Rua pointed to the collection of chairs by the window.

Flossie nodded, too busy hunting down Rua’s next suitor.

She couldn’t bear to look at Annette smiling up at Finn while they floated around the room.

The anger bubbling up in her chest was enough to take down an army. The same anger she’d felt before she’d killed that man, it came easy to her, filling her with purpose.

Rua forced herself to take a deep breath, her eyes wandering to the chandeliers above them. She’d love to have them shake and shiver before crashing down in a dazzling explosion on the floor, sending everyone scattering. And if a particularly large shard happened to impale Annette, then so be it.

She didn’t mean that. She took another deep breath and counted to ten.

Yes she did.

Everything about this life went against her core instincts. Rigid and harsh, it allowed no room to live. She wanted to scream and throw things and tell everyone how absurd they were. But that was a one-way trip to the asylum. She had no choice but to be on their version of her best behavior. At least for a few more days, anyway. Samhain was almost here.

Flossie hurried over to her with a man in tow.

Rua forced a smile and took his hand.

A rag doll passed from one child to the next, Rua hung onto the man’s arm, never bothering to get his name. Only a few more hours and the night would be over.

They danced until she was given to the next man, but never the one she truly wanted.

Finn bent down and lifted the sparkling piece of shattered crystal off the floor. He glanced back up at the chandelier it had apparently fallen from. Odd, he thought, tossing it on a side table.

Every time he turned around, Annette was there, waiting for him, making it damned near impossible for him to find Rua. But perhaps that was her intention.

It had been an eternity since they last spoke, and there was so much that needed to be said. He felt unhinged as he watched her move between dance partners. Men who didn’t deserve a moment of her time. His heart ached with the loss of his future, knowing that only his deal with Annette stopped him from lining up like the rest of them. He would have to settle for the stolen glances and little snippets of conversation she granted him in public.

Without much forethought, he turned and asked Annette for another dance. It was a mistake, to be sure, but the orchestra was playing a quadrille. And it was an opportunity to be near Rua.

“I will accept, my lord, but for propriety’s sake, this will have to be the last time. At least until we’ve announced, of course,” she added with a bright smile.

He looked at her hopeful face, aggravated by her vacuity. As though their engagement were a decision borne of mutual attraction or love. He ground his teeth together to avoid saying something he’d regret. He would never love Annette, but he would not let himself become cruel.

They walked onto the floor, and there was a murmur from the crowd, who were no doubt speculating as to why the Lord of Donore would be dancing with Annette again.

For once, he did not care. His only thought was to be near Rua in whatever capacity.

“We meet again,” he said as Rua came around to face him. He paid no attention to the scowl on Annette’s face as she was passed off and spun in a circle.

“How predictable,” Rua said, looking bored and beautiful.

“What?” he asked, though he already knew. Annette had kept him close the entire evening.

“You and Annette. Truthfully, I thought you a bit more interesting than that.” Her gaze was penetrating, sending a necessary jolt to his wilted heart.

“What if I told you I was only dancing with her now so that I might get closer to you?” Her hold on him was innate and it was mutual, he was sure of it. He would not survive this world without her.

Surprise flittered across her face.

She recovered quickly, a gleam in her eye. “Then I’d say you should’ve just asked me yourself.”

Their bodies synced as they spun on the dance floor, their movements fluid as they moved as one.

“If only it were that simple,” he said.

They switched partners and spun around the floor until finally meeting again.

“What are you doing with her, Finn?”

The hurt in her voice was unmistakable. She wasn’t playing games with him now.

Hands clasped together, they moved forward, meeting the others, then stepped back, facing each other.

He couldn’t explain it to her here. There wasn’t enough time.

“It was not my choice—” he started to say, but a strong tap on his back ripped his focus from Rua. He turned, ready to flay the man who had dared interrupt him.

As he glared at the gentleman, understanding came over him. There was no longer any music playing. A furious Annette stood at the man’s side, along with a dozen or so other dancers.

Too focused on Rua, he had left Annette partnerless in the middle of the set.

Rua gasped, trying to free her hand from his, but he couldn’t let go. Not yet. He wanted to stand beside her and declare his devotion, guard her from whatever was coming next.

But he saw the threat in Annette’s eyes for what it was and released Rua, knowing that if he didn’t, the fallout would be catastrophic.

All eyes were on them. The silence louder than any orchestra.

Rua would be raked over the coals for his mistake, Annette would make sure of it, but this was better than the alternative. Annette knew that as well.

These were the consequences of letting one’s emotions lead. In one fell swoop he had ensured that Rua would never acquire the acceptance that she sought so desperately for her mother’s sake. She’d never stood a chance.

“It seems as though I have forgotten the steps!”

Finn cringed as he heard Rua address the ballroom. He shook his head, willing her to stop talking. Her smile was forced, though not enough to mask the trepidation—something he’d never expected to see.

Rua’s skin blanched as she watched a mortified Mrs. Harrington bury her face in her hands. He hated to see the panic in Rua’s eyes as the enormity of the situation sunk in. It sickened him more to know that it was his fault, and he could do nothing for her.

“Miss Harrington can hardly be blamed for my subpar dancing skills. Do forgive me, Miss Fitzgerald?” he interjected, mortified.

He longed to shield Rua from their criticism and hurry her out of the room, but he knew it would only infuriate Annette.

“I do blame her!” Annette snapped. “It is obvious that she has put you under some sort of spell in an attempt to undermine our relationship—the wicked little witch.”

He glared at Annette as she approached his side, forcing Rua to move.

Looking disoriented, Rua assessed him and Annette, side by side, a seemingly united front. Then her eyes darkened.

“There’s something not right about her. Something evil, if you ask me.” Annette hooked her arm around his, putting the final nail in Rua’s coffin.

Rua stood alone in the center of the room while the other guests glowered and nodded their agreement.

“That is enough,” he said sharply, freeing his arm from Annette’s grasp. Her eyes went wild, but he didn’t care. He’d had enough of this farce. He couldn’t watch as Rua was hung out to dry, mocked and ridiculed.

“Take one more step,” Annette hissed, “and I’ll tell everyone, right now. Everything and then some.”

The hair on his neck stood upright.

Rua was still watching them, watching the room, riddled with contempt.

Rua’s dance partner stepped forward. Finn presumed he was going to do the gentlemanly thing and escort her from the center of the dance floor before the situation worsened.

He would do the same. “Annette, shall we get some fresh air?” Finn asked, knowing the sooner he removed her from the ballroom, the sooner things would deescalate.

He prayed Rua would understand that it was for the best. That Annette would only continue to hurl her vile insults, riling the room up.

Finn took Annette’s arm in his, and as he did, he saw a violent shudder rip through Rua’s body.

Rua met his eyes then, her own expression bold and self-reliant. He could see the betrayal raging.

He paused, reconsidering what he’d done.

“You may escort me to my mother, my lord.” It was too late, he thought, as Annette took him in the opposite direction.

And then Rua’s dance partner stomped off the dance floor, leaving her to fend for herself.