The Wolf of Winterthorne: Scandalous Secrets, Book 4 (25 page)

“So, what have I missed, gentlemen?” Victoria bounded into the room, swaying her reticule to and fro.

Tristan stood, kissing his wife on the cheek. “Nothing, darling. Care for a drink?”

“Always,” she smiled.

Logan’s eyes widened as Tristan poured a tumbler of whisky for his wife and she took two hefty gulps. Her husband chuckled, as if there was a private joke between the two, something intimate that only they shared. Such was the intimacy Logan longed to build with Arabella.

One without fear.

One without peril.

“Where is my wife?” Logan asked, rubbing his palms together. His anxiety reached a fever pitch whenever Arabella wasn’t beside him.

“She is with Eve,” Victoria placed her glass on the desk behind her. “I felt it was necessary for me to explain how I have prepared your wives for tonight’s event.”

“I don’t like the sound of this,” Colin drawled, raking his hands through his hair before glancing at his brother.

Tristan’s brow furrowed. “Do you honestly think Victoria wouldn’t prepare them for what we are facing?”

“Now I truly don’t like the sound of this,” Colin hissed.

Logan stood, “What the—”

“Take a seat please, Logan,” Victoria waved him away with her hand.

When he didn’t do as she bid, Victoria tilted her head to the side. “We don’t have time for a staring match or a duel, so please be seated – watch and learn, gentlemen.”

Logan settled upon the leather sofa, sitting upright, ready to bolt. He watched as Victoria placed her reticle, muff, and fan on the desk. The room was illuminated by the fire in the grate and the many sconces accentuating the wood paneled walls, making her accessories fully visible.

“Females are not helpless, regardless of what—

“Our society dictates,” the men joined Victoria, finishing her statement in unison.

She arched an auburn brow. “It appears I have taught you gentlemen well. You may proceed.”

The men stood and joined Victoria, surrounding the massive mahogany desk.

“Look but don’t touch,” she advised. “You are the crowd at the opera house. Study me, study my belongings. Note anything extraordinary? If anyone can, it would be you three.”

Upon taking several steps away from the desk, she twirled then stood stock-still. Logan, Colin, and Tristan inspected Victoria and her belongings. Her reticule was made out of beads and fringe. She lifted it, carried it as she would normally. There was nothing conspicuous. Her fan was embellished with a sterling silver handle. She held it, opened it, and fanned herself. Again, nothing notable short of the unique handle. Her muff was ermine. It looked like any other, with the exception that it cost more than Logan’s first year of wages.

Her dress consisted of multi-layers of satin, all trailing downwards from her waist to the floor. It was burgundy, with wide sleeves that ended with velvet and lace at the wrists.

Tossing her cape to Logan, he noted that it was accessorized with a hood. Made of a heavy velvet with a satin lining, there was nothing awry with it either.

Logan’s clipped tone conveyed his impatience. “What have I missed?”

“What have we missed?” Colin rubbed his chin. “I fail to find anything out of order.”

He glanced at his brother, who simply shrugged.

“First,” Victoria pointed to her hair, pinned up with a peacock clip. “This clip is sharp and your wives are prepared to stab anyone who threatens them.”

“Death by peacock,” Logan drawled.

Victoria narrowed her eyes. “You remain unimpressed. All right.” She walked over to the desk and reached for her fan. Standing beside Logan, she yanked the handle and held it to his throat. It was sharp.

“Each of our fans is embellished with a nail file. Your wife is prepared to use it to defend herself.”

Logan cleared his throat as Victoria released him before returning the sharp file to her fan handle. She pointed to the small group of flowers at her waist. “Our Tussie-Mussies are equipped with a rather long pin that can puncture the flesh.”

Logan’s eyes widened as Victoria continued in a quick staccato. “The folds of our skirts are hiding small but sharp scissors, our capes hide a few knives in the seams, and there is a dagger beneath each of our reticules. The fringe conceals them. Would you like me to continue?”

“I’ll be damned,” Colin laughed.

Logan exhaled a ragged breath. “Arabella—”

“Is prepared to defend herself,” Victoria assured him. “Eve and I have prepared your wife.”

There was no doubt in Logan’s mind that Eve was responsible for preparing the clothing. It was her business, after all. Unconventional as it may be, she owned her own seamstress business and it prospered under her watchful eye.

But, Logan’s instinct advised that Victoria was responsible for orchestrating this plan, for the weapons used, and preparing Arabella to stab someone if need be.

“Thank you,” he took Victoria’s hand, his tone deeper and more heartfelt than he intended. Clearing his throat, he squeezed her hand.

She nodded. “You are most welcome.”

“Did you know?” Colin asked his brother.

Tristan grinned. “No. Nevertheless, Victoria is spectacular. I have learned never to underestimate my wife.”

“Wise man,” Arabella quipped from the doorway.

Logan turned and the sight of his wife stole his very breath. He struggled to inhale, studying her with a pang of … would he ever get used to these feelings that overpowered him every time he saw her?

Unabashed adoration.

Pride that she is his wife.

Astonishment at her beauty, wit and warmth. At her ability to illuminate the dreariest of days with her smile.

Tonight she was resplendent, garbed in an amethyst-colored gown with matching reticule.

“I gather Victoria had enough time to inform you of our preparations?” Eve asked, her petite form weaving her way through the crowd to Colin.

“Yes,” her husband answered. “You are so clever. And beautiful.”

“I’m wearing your favorite color, green.” She spoke in a hushed whisper.

Colin’s voice could barely be heard. “I noticed.”

Arabella approached Logan. “Are you prepared for this evening?”

He took her hands in his. “Almost.” His gaze roamed their small group. “Thank you all for what you are doing for us”

“Why don’t we allow Logan and Arabella a moment?” Colin suggested.

The crowd seemed eager to depart, leaving husband and wife alone in the study.

“You are beautiful,” Logan caressed his wife’s cheek.

“I am also lethal now,” Arabella teased him with a wink. “Who is better suited for you?”

Logan splayed his hands around her waist. “No one. Just you. Always you.”

“I love you,” his wife whispered before claiming his lips with hers, her tongue seeking his.

The jolt of intimacy caused a tremor to shudder up his spine. This woman. This courageous, kind, wonderful woman loved him like he never thought possible.

Deepening their kiss, Logan’s hand trailed to the nape of her neck, where her silken flesh felt like silk beneath his fingertips.

His wife was too good to be true.

“I love you,” he was breathless, his tone raspy when he pulled away from her. “I will protect you.”

“We shall protect each other, my love,” Arabella laced her hands with his. “We are in this together. You and I. No matter what. We are a team. And I am strong. That woman who held a shard of glass to your throat on her first night at Winterthorne … that was
me
. I can protect myself. I will protect us and what we share. Never underestimate your wife, remember?”

“I will always remember,” he kissed her hair, the scent of lavender and vanilla, her scent, calming his taut nerves. “Though I know that you are brave and possess strength in abundance, please be vigilant tonight. For me. Be on guard at all times.”

Arabella leaned her cheek against his neck. “I promise to take care. You must make the same promise to me.”

Logan nodded. He would handle tonight with painstaking caution. He would guard his wife, ensuring that Arabella would return home with him, healthy and happy.

If it took everything in him, he would make sure Bella remained safe.

He loved this woman.

Would give his life for her without hesitation.

In the face of such danger and malevolence, their vows had taken on a new meaning.

Now and always …

Though Logan knew not how long he would remain on this earth, he would protect his wife until his dying breath.

Arabella would survive Sybil and her foes.

No sacrifice was too great.

No peril insurmountable.

No matter what, Arabella would survive. Of that, Logan was certain as together they faced the unknown danger that lurked within the shadows, threatening their future happiness.

“I love you,” he repeated. “Now and always.”

Until my last breath,
he added silently.

His new oath. His promise, to himself.

Arabella will live.

Nothing else mattered.

The opulent vestibule of the Opera House was crowded, voices echoing against the marble like an orchestra reaching a crescendo. As Arabella and Logan proceeded with their group, she halted mid-step, certain that she had never before witnessed such splendor.

The grandeur of the shimmering gold ornaments and ornate cut glass chandeliers with glowing gas lamps illuminated the many guests clad in vibrant colors and sparkling jewels, the sizes and shapes of the stones varying in degrees of affluence.

Now Arabella understood Logan’s need to give her a large, oval-shaped amethyst betrothal ring surrounded by an ornate gold embellishment set with numerous small, round diamonds. Dangling from her ears and neck were the matching earrings and necklace that completed the magnificent set.

Much like Winterthorne and its many owners, the jewels held a history … they had once belonged to a Russian princess. Perfect symmetry, for that is what Arabella felt like, at this precise moment – a princess. Or at least what she imagined being one would feel like.

Some might find it odd that Arabella would be warmed by a sense of harmony, in spite of the threat she faced tonight. But not Bella. Because in spite of their plight, Logan treated her like she set the moon and hung the stars. Like she alone was the most important person on this earth. Because, for Logan, Arabella was.

And he wasn’t afraid to show it.

She turned to her husband, his pride and adoration etched in his proud features. Gleaming in eyes the color of sleek onyx. “This is breathtaking.”

“So are you,” he winked at her. “Still, remain vigilant. If you notice anyone or anything out of place—”

“You shall be the first I tell,” Bella smiled as they followed their party to their seats. Victoria had reserved a box near the stage, the prime location for them to study the crowd and to sit front and center, for all to see.

Though not officially open for the season, tonight marked a special performance. A famous composer introducing society to his latest work in progress. The opera devotees would be in attendance, thus it was of vital importance that Logan and Arabella appear. Though Sybil wasn’t a prominent soprano, she was infamous and many would recognize her, or her twin.

From what Logan told Arabella, her sister had remained in the chorus or in the wings. Never quite reaching the stardom she sought. She spent nights with men of a higher station in the hopes that they would propel her career, her place in society, but her schemes never materialized.

People began to stare at Arabella almost immediately, causing a jolt of apprehension to shoot up her spine, sending her every hair on end. She clutched her fan, the handle of the file cool and solid within her grasp.

It helped slow her rapid heartbeat, the weapon, her means to defend herself. As did Logan’s solid hand, placed firmly on her skirts above her thigh. No one in the crowd below would notice his palm, his silent show of support, but Bella felt it and that was enough to calm her.