•T H I R T Y - T W O•

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That was close.

Had she recognized him? She'd glanced his way for a while, until that fat Sir Oliver slammed into her and drew her attention away. He was grateful for that; otherwise she might have said something, might have complained about a man loitering by the doors and peering inside as if about to choose a slice of pie.

He couldn't help it; with so many well-dressed, well-formed, unmarried women frolicking among the visitors, he had no means to stop himself.

But the girl, the youthful, scrutinizing creature standing by the buffet tables, ruined his silent observation. If he wasn't mistaken—and he rarely was—she was Sir Richel's daughter. He might have met her once, when she was but a tiny toddler. As a teenager, she had changed little. She sported her late mother's short limbs and harbored her father's cold blue and gray eyes.

Overwhelmed by the waves of decadent perfumes in the Ballroom, he'd found he needed to step out. That was when she'd caught him looking in.

It would be ill-viewed to scramble back inside now. I must wait.

A few paces into the Entryway hall, he looked left and right, making sure no other guests had ventured out. He then fished for the note in his jacket pocket; the one he'd received a few days prior, marked as urgent. It contained words he needed to convey to his associate in private, as soon as possible, but the latter was stuck in the Ballroom, surrounded by his family, unable to creep out.

As the man slinked into a dark corner of the hallway, Sir Knowles broke out of the party room, cheeks red and arms rigid at his sides.

"Someone is wandering about," he said, hastening past without a glance as he marched to the butlers flanking the main doors. "Someone suspicious. A mystery man? Have you witnessed any odd men slipping in with the attendees?"

Mystery man; is that me? Did that Richel girl report me?

"No one but guests, Sir," said one butler, also not seeming to notice the individual lurking in the shadows.

Sir Knowles rounded to the stairs. "Then keep watch. Something is up."

With a quiet giggle, the mystery man turned tail and made for the farther side of the corridor.

"That snide little thing. She did report me!" He took no offense; most girls her age scrunched their noses at him, fearing his glacial manners and crude remarks. In fact, most women did, too.

"E.!"

A hushed voice came from behind him, and he whirled around to find his tall and unhappy blond-haired associate storming up, brows in a straight line above his icy blue eyes.

"There you are, I meant to—"

"—not here," said the blond man, fingers wrapping around E.'s lower forearm to drag him to another room.

The Golden Flower (#1 in the GOLDEN series) ✔Where stories live. Discover now