Page 54 of Legacy of Thorns
“Certainly we’ll leave if we’re no longer welcome here,” Fin said easily.
Was it a mere coincidence that Lord Barlowe was the one evicting them from the ball? Regardless of his reasons, they could hardly refuse. If they made a scene, they would attract Lord Castlerey’s attention, and Barlowe’s accusations would be proved.
Their chance to question Barlowe was disappearing before his eyes. They should have been more circumspect. He tried to think of a way to phrase a subtle question, but the situation wasn’t exactly propitious.
“Of course we’ll leave.” Daphne tugged on Finley’s sleeve, and he gave in to the inevitable, giving Barlowe a quick, shallow bow.
He let her tug him through the room, skirting the dance floor as they headed toward the ballroom door. They would have to wait outside the manor and intercept Lorne when he returned. Perhaps together they could think of another way to approach Barlowe.
But as they left the ballroom and entered the manor’s large entryway, Lord Barlowe trailed behind them. Finley glanced back at him, weighing the risks of speaking versus staying quiet. Perhaps the man had given them just the opportunity they needed?
He hesitated near the front door, looking at Lord Barlowe again.
“My dear sir,” the lord said with apparent amusement. “You seem to have something more to say to me. But may I suggest that whatever enlightening words you have to impart, they would be best said away from our interested audience?”
Finley glanced at the two footmen who flanked the door, both watching the odd group in the entryway with interest, and then down at Daphne. Her teeth were set, her wary gaze fixed on Lord Barlowe, but she didn’t protest. And for the first time that night, Finley was grateful for her mask. If Finley’s identity ended up being revealed, Daphne at least retained some protection.
“Very well, my lord,” Finley said. “Perhaps you are right.”
Barlowe gestured toward an open door that led into a sitting room, ushering them both through before closing it behind them and perching himself on the arm of the nearest chair.
“If you intend to upbraid me,” he said, “I should perhaps warn you that I am not easily put out of countenance.”
“No,” Daphne said quietly. “I don’t think you are.”
Barlowe smiled at her, a slow, lazy smile that Finley didn’t like.
“A lady of above ordinary perception, I see. If one is forced to have an adversary, is it not more entertaining to have a worthy opponent?”
“Opponent, my lord?” Daphne continued to meet his gaze steadily. “I don’t know what you mean.”
The lord swung his leg, his lazy smile still fixed in place. “Oh, I think you do, Daphne. I think you know exactly what I mean.”
Finley tensed, his thoughts upending in an instant, all his assessments of danger changing. It had been a mistake to bring Daphne to the ball. He never should have considered it.
“I did not achieve my current position by failing to pay attention to details,” Barlowe continued. “I certainly would not pursue a man across the breadth of a kingdom for three long years without knowing his face.” His eyes lingered on Finley’s face, and he laughed softly. “Such a noble face,” he murmured.
His gaze snapped to Daphne. “Your face, however, I would be most interested to see…” He trailed off with the faint hint of aquestion, as if he thought she would remove her mask to satisfy his curiosity.
Finley tensed, ready to intervene if Barlowe tried to approach Daphne, but neither of them moved. Daphne’s stony gaze remained fixed unflinchingly on Barlowe’s face, and he gave a small smile.
“I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure how you fit into the game, my dear,” he continued. “Especially after I heard of your impressive rescue of young Archer. But after that enlightening display in the ballroom, I think I have a fairly accurate idea of what piece you are in this particular puzzle.”
Finley’s hands fisted, his blood boiling. He wanted to push Daphne behind him, to shield her even from Barlowe’s gaze. But he had to tread very, very carefully.
“I’ll admit,” the man went on, “I was impressed to see you here tonight. Even after all these years, I did not expect my own identity to be uncovered. But you see, that leaves us at an impasse because that is not a situation with which I’m comfortable.”
He stood, his actions suddenly quick and decisive. “Entertaining as it has been, I think it’s time we drew this game to a close. Do you not agree, Finley son of Timothy?”
Finley froze, his brows drawing together. Daphne grabbed his arm.
“What is it, Fin?” she asked softly, and he realized he had never told her his father’s name.
“My father wasn’t called Timothy.” The room seemed to recede, reality dipping and rearranging yet again.
Was it possible that their last three years of flight and terror had all originated from a case of mistaken identity? Had Lord Barlowe been chasing the wrong people?
Barlowe’s brows shot up. “Do you really not know? Now that is surprising!”
