Page 15 of The Devil In Blue
I nearly fell asleep in that casquet. I found it quite comfortable, but when I realized how long I’d been absent from the party, I slowly sat up. I was still alone in that room and as I climbed out, I became aware of the music again. The gentle strings and harps were a melody that soothed me and I was excited to join the celebrations after I’d gotten a moment to myself. I wasn’t sure why I’d left in the first place.
Something about the count.
Just thinking about the count made my skin prickle. I rolled my shoulders back to chase away the feeling as I headed for the hall leading to the main chamber. I could smell the cinnamon and spices again as I neared, but just as I saw the glow of the ballroom at the mouth of the passage, the silhouette of a man took up the space. Tall, broad shouldered, and dawning a long coat. Unale to see his features when he was backlit the way he was, he looked like the antlers of his mask were fused right to his head.
I stopped, hands gently clasped in front of me as the count approached. As if my thoughts of him had manifested his presence, he started toward me with a confident and almost threatening gait. When he came into the candlelight of the narrow hall, the fire glistened off his polished mask making it almost look like he was on fire.
I dipped my head in greeting. “Count Mortis.”
He halted a couple steps from me and leaned up against the wall, crossing his ankles. When I straightened again, he was just staring, head cocked.
“What brings you to the lonely halls when your masquerade is such a wonderous success?” I asked. “I know many would love to speak with you.”
“Yes, it is,” he said, his deep voice carrying in the hollow passage like a gentle touch. “And yes, they would. But here I am.”
We stood in silence for a moment until I glanced around him and saw Lucien roaming the crowd, probably searching for me. I knew the right thing to do would be to go to him, but I was not in a rush. Especially when the count had shown up to distract my thoughts. Even from behind a mask, he was the most interesting thing at that party.
And that was saying a lot.
“You seem quite comfortable surrounded by the dead,” the count said. “Most ladies here seemed uneasy before the wine loosened their nerves.”
“Of course, it is the wine for me as well,” I said.
“But you haven’t even had a sip.”
Something in his voice told me he was smiling behind his mask. I blinked, wondering how he knew I wasn’t drinking, and inclined my head again.
“You caught me. I do not favor the taste of the drink.”
“What tastes do you favor?”
“I don’t quite know.”
That was somewhat true. Food had never been a luxury to me. It was just a means to keep living. But when I really thought of it, one thing came to mind. My eyes wandered into nothingness as I recalled the taste from the last time I’d eaten it over a year prior.
“Chocolate,” I said.
“Chocolate,” the count repeated.
I glanced up at him again and met his dark, empty eyes. “And you?” I said.
“You already know the answer to that.”
He pushed off the wall and took a step toward me.
I stood my ground, not wanting to seem afraid. It was a well-mannered encounter and Lucien wanted so badly to be noticed by the count. If I embarrassed his name by reacting poorly to the count’s company, I knew it would make my life miserable for months to follow until he focused on some other prospect.
“If you are referring to rumors, I do not keep up with social gossip,” I admitted.
He slowly shook his head, taking another step and reaching out a hand to dust off some dirt from the shoulder of my dress. Something about that gesture told me he knew what I was doing deep in the catacombs, though that was impossible.
“I am not talking about gossip.You, Briar, already know me.”
I almost laughed because I most certainly did not.
At least… not since Southminster.
“You know my desires. My favorite things. My needs,” he continued. “And things I cannot forgive.”
