Gemma's headsnapped up as the group of Russians parted and Lord Balfour stepped through, leaning heavily on a silver-tipped cane.
It had been years since she'd last seen him.
This man had created the Falcons who'd served as his assassins over the years. He'd had them set up the school that bought young children like her when their parents could no longer afford to feed them, and turned them into killers. And then he'd thrown her life away when he sent her to assassinate the Duke of Malloryn because she looked like the woman Malloryn once loved.
It had all been a ploy.
Malloryn had been meant to kill her, her death nothing more than a spiteful game between the two of them, but instead he'd chosen to show her mercy.
She hated this man more than anything else in life, and it made her knife hand twitchy.
"Relax," Obsidian murmured at her side, his hand coming to rest in the center of her lower back. "We all knew we'd see him here. This is just the beginning of the game."
Yes, but I was hoping to have a chance to get my feet under me first.
"Welcome to my humble estate." Balfour gestured to the palace behind him, but those black eyes never left them. If he'd been at all surprised to see them, he revealed no sign of it.
"Balfour," Barrons greeted, stepping forward and drawing attention.
"I'm sorry." Balfour frowned faintly. "My name is Vladimir Feodorevna. I'm afraid you must have mistaken me for someone else."
Barrons gave a thin smile. "My apologies. You reminded me of a man I once knew. Probably not a compliment, for he was a vicious, lying snake, but you look very like him."
The elegant young woman at his side frowned, and asked, in heavily accented English, "What did he say?"
"Quite all right, my dear," Balfour told her in Russian, patting her arm. "I shall finish greeting our guests. You should freshen up. I’m told your sisters were spotted near the gate."
Tatiana Feodorevna took her leave, deliberately snubbing them.
Balfour turned back to her.
"Miss Gemma Townsend, I presume," Balfour murmured, a twinkle in his eyes. "Or was it Lady Hollis Beechworth? I can never keep it all straight."
"Lady Hollis Beechworth," she replied, "for the moment. You might remember her. I believe we’ve met."
"Ah, yes." He looked amused. "She caused me a great deal of trouble five years ago."
"I like to think my efforts last month superseded those moments."
His smile softened, like an uncle who was mildly pleased with something she'd done. "It was very frustrating to lose my entire London enterprise. Thankfully, my dearest Dido brought me a consolation gift. It's cheered me up considerably."
This time, Obsidian had to forcibly restrain her.
Balfour's smile looked even more smug.
"This is my second-in-command," Balfour gestured to the pale-haired woman at his side, wearing a long red velvet coat with gold embroidery on the sleeves, and tight trousers. "Dido, do be a dear and show our guests to their rooms. We've been anticipating your arrival for weeks now."
Thedhampirwoman who'd kidnapped Malloryn glided forward, locking eyes with Gemma. "I'm going to kill the pair of you for what you did to Ghost," she murmured, barely moving her lips.
"You're welcome to try." Gemma's smile never slipped. "As did he. Look who's still standing."
"Dido." Balfour cleared his throat.
The woman gracefully gestured them toward the house. "Unfortunately, we'd made provisions for the diplomatic party we expected to arrive. Whilst there is room enough in the palace for at least four couples, the rest will have to make do with accommodations near the stables and in the servants quarters."
Time to start playing the game.
Gemma's smile froze. "This is unacceptable."