Page 76 of The Grand Mistletoe Assembly
“Jasmine pearls, my dear. I’ll let you try it.”
And with that, Sophia had a foot in the door. And hopefully, the lions would be hounded out of their palace as soon as possible.
CHAPTER 3
Baron von List,
If you have any interest in the event of the Season, meet me at the Coffee Room on Throgmorton-street at two o’clock. Look for a white rose.
A friend.
Sophia had been waiting in the coffee shop for an hour. Her tea was strong, but the clear liquid in the small glass on the table was stronger. A welcome jolt of energy. The custom of adding milk made her stomach turn; she’d been weaned a long time ago. Nobody gave her creamy desserts, and if she earned them, they had always been overpriced, costing her dignity. No milk for Sophia’s tea, thank you very much. She liked hers with a pang of lemon.
She’d paid Mr. Colthurst at Brooks’s enough to know that this baron had an extra ticket to the Pearlers’ charity ball, and she had her eyes on it. The question was whether he’d turn into a new target or help. She had low hopes for anything good to come of liaising with a Prussian.
The wall clock struck two. All right, he was officially late. Sophia hated people who were not perfectly punctual. Just as she was growing uncomfortable and considering taking her leave, a man entered the front door. A stately figure, tall with broad shoulders tapering to a slim waist. He was in a dark olive morning coat, a plain single-breasted frock. His cream pantaloons were tight and stretched over his bottom, capturing Sophia’s gaze as he turned to the waiter and received a beverage.
He walked toward the back where she sat, swirling an amber liquid in his glass. As he stopped to scan the people, she smiled invitingly. It must be him, for he looked Prussian and held himself stiffer than the Englishmen around. There was no doubt. He was close enough for her to see the metal buttons on his frock, depicting a hunting scene with a fallen deer. She touched the white rose in her hair and gestured for him to sit. He scanned her from top to bottom. His eyes were of such a light blue. Like water, they seemed colorless and reflected the green hues of his frock. The room was well lit, but there was a darkness to him that Sophia found instantly unsettling. He was perfect for the job, an intimidating figure.
He placed both hands on the table and scooted onto the wooden bench. “It’s rare that a woman invites me to a blind meeting.” No accent, as she’d expected.
He smiled, and she caught a reflection of gold in the far back of his mouth. His movements were swift, and she noticed the waistcoat of blue and white striped toilinette stretching over his chest. He was younger and more muscular than she’d expected.
He sipped his drink and hissed at the burn. Ah, whiskey, an aromatic spirit with about 40 percent alcohol. She preferred the clean burn of an 80 percent beverage, such as vodka, from her home.
She swirled her small glass. “The distillery next door supplies the spirits. What a shame they don’t use all their good British rye for something as crisp as this.”
He reached for her glass and sniffed, flaring his nostrils in a way that pleased her. Her reaction to him was most unsettling.
He crinkled his face as if to shake off the scent. “This isn’t water with a splash of vodka, it’s a full glass of vodka with a splash of water.”
She laughed, and he rewarded her with an open-mouthed guffaw. He had a few gold fillings, the back ones rather large, but the rest of his teeth were bright white and impeccably clean. His overall appearance was rather clean. He had no stubble, smooth skin, and a crisp haircut. Only his top hair was slightly longer and fell in a wave that framed his forehead. He was dangerous and had an edge to his neat look that captured Sophia’s interest.
“So why have you asked me here?”
* * *
She hadthe self-indulgent look of an avaricious woman, the kind List knew well. Yet there was something sad and beautiful, too, as if she carried a secret while her mien remained frozen. She’d be good at cards. But those games never interested him. He liked strategy games, even the ones that would span extended periods. He could lie in ambush with an ace up his sleeve for months. Victory would always be worth it.
“I hear you gamble,” she said.
At least she was pretty. “Why do you care?”
“I don’t, truly.” Her R rolled tellingly. She had pretty lips, a kissable pout that would surely be soft. A profound appetite thundered inside, and he tried to dismiss it. “But I heard that you have a ticket—”
“You want to be my guest?” Oh, that’s what she was all about. A social climber. The worst kind of woman, who’d sell herself for a position in society. The entire Prussian Empire was filled with the sort.
“How kind of you to ask.” She gave a sly smile and bowed her head.
“I didn’t ask you to go with me, I just—”
“Oh, but I accepted, and you know what they say about an offer that’s been accepted.”
“What?” His grumbled response bordered on rudeness, but the woman had only just met him and was already patronizing him. He had to get out of here.
“It’s a valid contract.”
“Das gibt’s ja nicht, solch’ eine Frechheit.” Unbelievable, such audacity. He stood to leave and stopped to put some money on the table.
