Masters of the Game (Sutherland Book 4)

XXVIII | Choices

Gabrielle had never been inside a ballroom as one of the guests. In the past, since she became a Soldier of Belcourt, the shadows were her only ballroom. While the Belles enjoyed the light and glitters, the men and their drinks, them, the Soldiers, were the silent eyes behind everyone. Unnoticed, unassuming.

But not tonight.

For quite a few reasons.

First, she was in a dress. Her red, curly hair donned in a simple bun that did not attract, but was presentable enough (as Ellise St. Vincent said). "We cannot walk in and attract attention, but we cannot walk in wearing buckskins either," the woman had said. Second, people looked at her. Not with interest, but with fleeting curiosity. Third, the curiosity was mainly on the fact that she was walking side by side with Rider Fairborne, the Earl of Keene.

She knew enough of his reputation—that he was a silent and arrogant man, his private affairs always private. Everyone was always interested in him, even the women, but they curiously seemed to be uninterested in him as well. He was an earl. He was, in fact, handsome. Women should at least try to get his attention. It must be his presence, the way his eyes would look at you and make you feel inadequate.

As mentioned, their curiosity was merely fleeting. They looked at her because she was with Rider Fairborne. Then they looked away because he was not interesting enough for them. And that was the end of it. No whispers as she feared, no ogling. Everyone else was with much desirable and charming companions.

This little display, walking around the grand ballroom, was only for her family, the Vandenbergs, wherever they may be in the room, to see for themselves. Like a prized artifact ready for auction, she was being put on display. Proof that she was real. Alive. Ready to be acquired.

Ellise St. Vincent and Robert Dior did not come with them. The pair was somewhere in the vast mansion to see their own artifacts on display. The two Royals they had to rescue.

"Can we leave now?" she asked Rider. He looked at her, perhaps a little longer than he typically would, and shook his head. "Why?" she bit out.

He surveyed the room nonchalantly. They were in a corner, unnoticed by most. And he seemed unbothered with the lack of attention. Here was a man who was as comfortable to be in the shadows like her. Just watching, always watching.

"That's one of your uncles," he said, nodding at a large man dancing with a woman.

"He has red hair."

"That's because he's from your other side of the family," he explained. "And that one with the red feathers on her sleeves is from your mother's side of the family." She followed his gaze to the woman with a cane surrounded by men her age, laughing. "She's the messenger."

Her jaw tightened. He meant the old woman was here to confirm Gabrielle's presence.

"Then I know why we have to stay longer," she murmured, taking a glass from the passing servant. She gulped it down. "Her eyesight must be struggling."

The corner of his mouth quirked into a small smile. Or a laugh. Gabrielle mentally scolded herself. She should not be joking with Rider Fairborne. Or with anyone. She should be looking for an escape.

But how could she? The Vandenbergs were everywhere, their men in all corners of the room. The same with the Royal Circus. There were Belles here, and most definitely Soldiers too. But she could never tell where they were. In the shadows, of course. And what would they think of her if they ever recognized her?

Nora had kept secrets from her while they were on the ship from London. Why? Because they ordered her to, or because she was working with someone else? If only she could get to Nora, ask the woman the questions. At this point, she could only trust a Soldier.