“Allow me, my dear.”
She placed her white-gloved hand in his and let herself be helped from the carriage. Her white ball dress was demure with a neckline that went up to her throat, a cutaway section at her cleavage, and long star diamante gloves that matched the stars sparkling on the silk dress. The wide petticoat showed at the back in a bustle, and if any more material had been added to her apparel, she would surely have fallen over from the weight.
Being hampered by her clothes felt wrong, especially as the security here was so hefty. Some guards were in plain view, in black and gold dress uniform; others were less obvious. The bulge of hidden weapons, their stance, and the way they scrutinized the crowd were telltale markers. One guard noted her interest.
She was getting soft, losing her finely honed attitude of concealed wariness.
But was this normal for such celebrations, or did they suspect? Inkline had originally meant to send her to a state ball of some sort, and here she was, as a guest.
“You look beautiful, Claire.” Theo swept her hand to his mouth, kissed the knuckles of her glove before adding, “Though I look forward to seeing you in your other garments.” His gaze held an evil hint of laughter.
She ducked her head.
If he saw her expression, he’d know something was wrong. Luckily, the stream of people into the palace and then the formalities of their entry into the grand ballroom proved distracting.
She drew in a long breath. How strange she, of all people—and heavens, how she enjoyed slotting herself into “people”—how strange to be here, about to be presented to the president of the Hellene Nation.
Reality was only a misstep away. All those guards would have her on the floor in a flash with a pistol to her head if they knew what she was. She focused. Stay calm. There’s still hope. Got to be a way out. There has to be.
The announcer, a slim bespectacled man in a black suit, standing by double doors of ebony and glass, bowed and took the card from Dankyo. The current assignment of four of Theo’s house guards moved ahead to carry out their security check.
The announcer flicked on a voltaic-powered speakerphone. “Presenting Lord Theodore Kevonis and his consort, Claire.” The lack of a surname had befuddled him initially. She gave him as confident a smile as she could muster, and he nodded, then swiveled on his high boots and waved them on.
“Come.” Theo took her hand and drew her into the ballroom. Scent, sound, and sight overwhelmed her. Enough perfume and cologne seemed to have been used to poison an elephant. An orchestra playing a gentle waltz competed with a thousand voices and a thousand tapping heels. On all sides there were swirls of rich clothing, the flash of jewelry and laughter. Looking down on the ballroom from terraces were at least twenty guards. Likely, an equal number circulated with the guests.
Claire took a deep breath. Concentrate. Somewhere here, Inkline is watching. Each couple, after they’d entered and been announced, were greeted by another, elegantly dressed couple. “The president and his consort,” Theo whispered.
Claire blinked. The president was as tall as Theo and just as imposing. He was older, perhaps fifty, with the red of his beard paling with gray flecks. Narrower at the shoulder yet muscular, from the way his coat draped him. It was curious to see such a long elegant nose allied with broad cheekbones.
Pale blue eyes… She stilled, seeing him studying her in return, only his gaze traveled blatantly down to her feet and back up, pausing momentarily at chest level. She tried to stay calm but felt the tension between her eyebrows and knew the frown showed. He smiled back.
“Good evening, Theo,” the president drawled. “I see you have a lovely catch with you for tonight’s festivities.” He addressed Claire. “And if rumor is correct, my dear, you are the reason for Theo’s”—he cocked an eyebrow, like a hawk poised before a dive—“avid pursuit of the Frankenstruct Bill?” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it.
Theo chuckled. “Of course. I make no secret of this. Claire is worth anything to me.” He looked sidelong at her, winked. “Anything.”
She held her tongue, not wanting to make a fool of herself.
“Good evening, Theodore. I’m pleased to meet you, Claire. Theo has spoken well of you.” The woman beside the president spoke quietly, but her voice was deep and assured. Her aubergine gown was so dark it seemed to consume light, except for at neckline and hem, where a wide row of brilliant white gems scintillated.
She added, “I do hope your passion is returned, Theo. If not, I’m sure others will be in pursuit of your lady tonight.” She smiled at Claire, as if to say this was a joke between them. The lustrous black curls that framed her face and slender neck bobbed when she shifted, as though caressing her.