Page 9 of The Nephilim's Finesse
He searched my face for a minute. “No, not really.” Raph sighed. He shook his head again and turned to go. He left me without saying another word.
Disappointed, I leant back in my armchair. My cheeks burned, and I pressed my cool hands against them before I buried my entire face in them. What had I done? I curled into a ball, my knees to my chest, and wished for a hole to swallow me. I had asked my captor, my enemy, to get intimate with me. The man who held me against my will, who killed fellow vampires, who detested me. I felt animosity towards Raph, not affection. Yet, I offered myself like a whore, only to be turned down. I humiliated myself deeply. What would he think of me now? He couldn't and wouldn’t respect me from now on. They never did. A memory flashed to the surface of my mind.
The ballroom of the Nelson's townhouse was remarkable. Grand chandeliers lit up the large room, with lofty ceilings and sumptuous decorations. The walls were painted in splendid deep red, too adorned with intricate moulding. As I advanced across the polished hardwood floor, I noticed sundry members of the ton conversing in small clusters or seated on settees, imbibing wine. I gave a bow of my head towards Lady Greenwood, my patroness, on the other side of the hall, where she conversed with various noblewomen. The ballroom vibrated with the sounds of joyousness, discourse, and live music from the diminutive orchestra. Nonetheless, I could hear the deep baritone of Lord Bute across the room. As I crossed it, I noticed how the soft shuffling of our dresses sang in harmony with the medley from the band. A brief glimpse in one of the mirrors on the wall declared to me that the Nelsons hadn't replaced them lately, for I could perceive my likeness clearly in them. I learned that these new modern silvered mirrors didn't reflect vampires. Evidently, those Venetian mirrors put in richly ornamented frames were made of amalgam so that they had no trouble reflecting the undead. I eventually reached the coterie of four gentlemen and curtsied.
“My, Miss Greenwood, what a great pleasure it is to have you here tonight,” Lord Cameron declared. Even the fragrant bouquets of roses upon the tables couldn't mask the odour of his perspiration.
I proffered a polite curtsy. “I trust you are having an agreeable evening?”
“Indeed, and now that you have graced us with your presence, all the more so.” He directed his gaze around the room, and the other gentlemen tipped their heads in agreement.
“Yes, indeed. Your complexion is most becoming; I wonder if I might beg a dance with you later?” Lord Moore enquired with a graceful bow.
“I regret to say my schedule for this evening is already full.” My card was filled out before I had even set foot inside this townhouse; I had come there on important business and had no desire to squander my time on dancing.
“Perhaps Lord Bute may be able to indulge me?” I asked with a smile.
“Of course, milady.” At this suggestion, the other gentlemen excused themselves for a restorative beverage.
Lord Bute graciously presented his arm to me, and I slipped my gloved hand into its embrace.
"Your gown is most becoming, Miss Greenwood," he said with a bow. "The shade quite flatters your unique tresses."
I wore a dark blue satin dress embellished with intricate embroidery and lace. The repugnant bodice was far too snug for my liking; however, the gown from the high waistline just below the bust brimmed into a full, several-layer skirt. The plunging neckline showcased my rouged décolletage. Lady Greenwood had generously lent me some of her jewels, and my elaborate coiffure added to the Georgian aura.
We left the ballroom in a graceful stride and stepped into the hallway.
"Lord Bute," I began, "I wish to discuss an investment in your coal mines in Wales…"
He lifted his palm. "Miss Greenwood, this is not a fitting topic for young ladies. Do not concern yourself with such matters."
I put on a pleasant smile. "As you are aware, my Lord Bute, no husband is present to handle such affairs. Therefore, I thought it prudent to discuss such an investment myself."
He frowned disapprovingly. "Miss Greenwood, it is known that your aunt is wealthy beyond measure. Nonetheless, 'tis not proper for an unmarried maiden to become involved in such business dealings. Let it be known that if your aunt wishes to proceed further, she may send her solicitor to my residence and we can then further our dialogue."
The way he said it, I knew that the solicitor would wait for hours to be seen, then excused. Society had dinned into his head that it was not wise to invest with a woman, not at this gathering nor any other, yet my superior hearing told me such matters were being arranged here. How could I have come by this knowledge otherwise?
The Marquess of Bute sought leave from my presence and left me in the hallway. My indignation smouldered within me. I wasn't treated as an equal simply because I was a woman!
Behind me, I heard light footsteps approaching and feigned surprise as befitted a proper debutante. Lord Williams stepped around me and executed a dapper bow.
“My dear Miss Greenwood,” he began, “you will find that much of this difficulty could be avoided simply by marrying and allowing your husband to manage your affairs.”
He was tall and well-formed, with hair of an attractive blond hue; I guessed him in his late thirties. He was certainly not unattractive, but he had the typical face of an English aristocrat, one without true character. Lady Greenwood had warned me about him—he was a rake, and it seemed obvious he'd set his sights on inheriting her money through marriage to me. His next words did nothing to assuage my doubts.
"I would be most honoured if you granted me permission to court you."
I sighed. “My dearest Lord Williams, I am quite certain we have discussed this already. You ought to find a more suitable woman than me.” With that, I dipped into an elegant curtsy and spun around, ready to depart the hallway.
“Miss Greenwood, wait! I wanted to show you the new book Lord Nelson has about the solar system. I know you are passionate about the subject.”
At his words, I halted. A brand-new book about the science of the planets? My eyes narrowed, and Lord Williams nodded his head vigorously. “Yes, yes, please come with me. It will take just a moment or two. He has the latest issue of Laplace's Encyclopaedia.”
He strode confidently through the wide corridor, leading us to a door at its end, which opened into Nelson's library.
Alas, 'twas not to be, as Lord Williams presented to me instead Laplace's Mécanique céleste Volume IV—published twenty years prior—with which I was well-acquainted. Despite knowing its contents by heart, disappointment for not being able to read the newer text, and embarrassment at his assumption that I had no understanding of astronomy to know that this book was well-recognised by experts, I kept my lips pressed tight lest I should speak harshly.
“As I have your attention, I must admit, I am smitten with you.”