The Marquis and the Magician's Assistant (The Rebel Royals 4)

He was walking toward her before his brain gave his feet command. But he didn’t get far. A strong hand held him in place.

"Aren't you two keeping a low profile?" Daniel gripped his shoulder while also peeking his head out to get a look at Lark.

Omar was surprised the earl knew anything happening in society. Daniel didn't pay attention to much outside of books. His green eyes gave Lark a once over. There was no male appreciation there. She was a real live girl with curves and not on a page written in san serif letters.

"I thought you gave up on performers,” Daniel continued.

Omar looked back at the one performer who made his heart dance. "She's different."

“She looks like the rest of them."

“She’s exquisite, and Lark has actual talent."

"So did Summer. And she still used you."

True, Summer had had talent. But she didn’t use it much. She preferred to get by on the backs of others, which was why her ascent into the stars had stalled.

“Lark is different,” Omar proclaimed proudly.

"You said that already."

“Well, she is. She’s a hard worker. She’s honest and strong-willed, and entirely capable. She doesn’t need me to succeed. She’s capable of doing it all on her own.”

"That is different," said Daniel. "Yet, she’s still snogging the boss."

Omar was done with the conversation. Daniel knew nothing of real relationships. His only experience was in fictional worlds of a time gone by.

Omar turned his attention back to the woman who had captivated him. It took him a moment to find her again. People were still filling into the cathedral, taking a moment to mingle and network before the show began.

The royal wedding was the place to be and be seen. The nobility took the opportunity to make inroads with other families, to shun old enemies, and to reinforce ancient bonds. But the high class weren’t the only invitees.

The nouveau riche and new upper class were also in the mix. Captains of digital industry mixed amongst the blue bloods. Wet nosed politicians sniffed around for opportunity.

Finally, Omar spotted Lark again. She was smiling brightly. Her head was bent down to the Duchess of Mondego. The two women were grinning and giggling like school girls.

Many people came up to the two women. Noble class, nouveau riche, and commoner alike. Nian de Bernadino had always been a gracious, though quiet, noblewoman. These days, with her husband no longer looming over her, she had taken a new lease on life. She shook hands and spoke up to everyone who greeted her.

Lark stood at her side like a watchful guard post. The fact that Lark was protective and not opportunistic made Omar want her even more. He ached to take another step, all of the steps, that would lead him to her. But he held his place and did his duty.

Before he turned back to the groom who was now fussing with his cufflinks, Omar felt a chilled gust come through the hall. Looking over, he saw a ghost of the past. Summer swept into the hall on the arm of the man she’d left Omar for; Roberto Rancik.

Omar stood frozen as the two made their way over to the Duchess and Lark. When Rancik slithered up to Omar’s new star, the marquis made to step forward. But once again, he was held back by Daniel.

“Let’s not cause a scene,” Daniel said. “If she is who you say she is, then there is nothing to worry about.”

Omar grit his teeth as he watched the shady producer bow to the Duchess. Then he turned his greedy gaze to Lark. Nian’s lips moved. Her huge smile had gone dim. She waved her hand between Rancik and Lark, making introductions.

Lark's once polite and indulgent smile stiffened after Nian’s lips stopped moving. Perhaps she recognized Rancik’s name. Lark’s gaze slid to Summer and then back to Rancik, and her smile slipped all together.

Rancik was either ignorant or undaunted. He reached for Lark’s hand, which she lifted slowly, reluctantly. As Rancik bent over her knuckles, Lark’s lips curled in distaste.

Omar's heart soared. He turned to Daniel with a smirk of triumph. Daniel’s head tilted slightly, giving only a hint of mollification.

This was a victory for Omar. He wanted to pump his fists into the air. He wanted to run up to Lark and lift her into his arms. She saw into Rancik. She recognized the snake he was. But Rancik wasn't done.

As the producer pulled away from Lark, Omar saw a flash of white between his hands. The object was the size of a business card. Rancik stuck out his elbow for Summer. Summer sneered over her shoulder at Lark who smiled serenely.

Once the producer and his fading star had gone, Lark waited for the Duchess to take her seat in the pews. With a flutter of her hands, Lark let the business card slip through her fingers and fall to the floor. Then for good measure, she toed the offensive scrap of trash away.