And Then She Fell (The Cynster Sisters Duo 1)

She’d kept him waiting for her reply; that he had, indeed, waited, not shifting in the least, his hazel gaze locked on her face, meant that every second of further delay risked fixing his attention, a heavy, feline, weighty sensation, distinctly predatory, even more definitely on her . . . she tipped up her chin. “I don’t want to play, Ryder, at least not with you.” He would accept a straightforward—shockingly blunt—dismissal, while anything less definite might further pique his interest, so she held his gaze and simply stated, “You’ll only complicate things. So please, go and chase someone else.”

Brazenly, she patted his arm, pure steel beneath fine fabric, then stepped past him and pushed on, into the crowd.

Leaving Ryder Cavanaugh, Marquess of Raventhorne, utterly flabbergasted. “I must be losing my touch.” He said the words aloud, confident that, in the hubbub around him, no one would hear. Turning his head, he watched Mary slip through the crowd, tacking around this group, then that, halting whenever someone wished to chat, but not dallying. “What the devil was that about—and where the hell is she going?” And why?

“Clearly, I’ve grown rusty.” Either that, or . . . but he knew the advantages with which he’d been born hadn’t failed him yet. He wasn’t such a coxcomb as to believe that every woman in the land should come flocking to his lazy smile, yet . . . most did.

Mary hadn’t flocked. She’d run. No—worse—she’d calmly turned on her heel and marched off.

He wasn’t entirely sure what he thought of that, but . . . he recognized that she’d chosen her words, her way to dismiss him, deliberately. In that, she’d read him aright. Normally, if things had been normal for him, he would have smiled, mentally saluted her frank speaking, and moved on to more amenable prey.

Heaven knew, there was plenty of the latter about.

Except he’d decided to change his diet.

Which meant . . .

Because he was still watching Mary’s dark head, he saw another lady, of similar height with tumbling red-gold locks, intercept her. Angelica, now Countess of Glencrae, caught Mary by the arm, smiled as she spoke—and drew Mary to the side of the room.

Just beyond the alcove and its screen of tall palms.

Even before he’d thought, Ryder was moving toward the alcove. He’d long ago mastered the knack of cleaving his way through a crowd. If he walked purposefully in a straight line, because of his size people instinctively got out of his way, almost without conscious thought. His progress created very little by way of disturbance, and as long as he didn’t stare at Angelica or Mary, with luck neither would notice him drawing near. . . .

He slid into the shadows of the palms without either Mary or Angelica noticing.

They stood just beyond the far edge of the alcove; sinking back into the shadows, Ryder leaned his shoulders against the wall beside the statue and tuned his excellent hearing to their conversation.

Mary inwardly sighed as her cousin Angelica, a few months older than Henrietta and the previous wearer of the necklace, fixed her hazel eyes on Mary’s face and demanded, “What are you up to?”

“Why do you imagine I’m up to anything?”

“Because, sweet Mary, I know you.” Angelica snorted, glanced over her shoulder at the crowd in the ballroom, then turned back to Mary. “You might as well face it—you and I are the most alike of all the family, and Henrietta told me about you all but forcing her to wear the necklace—which, incidentally, was a very good thing, and I would have done exactly the same—but, quite clearly, you did it because you now have an agenda of your own. You didn’t push Henrietta to wear the necklace earlier because you didn’t need to, because, until recently, you didn’t have your eye on anyone.”

Mary opened her mouth, but Angelica held up an imperious hand. “No, don’t bother trying to tell me that you merely decided that at twenty-two it was your time—your turn to search for your hero. That won’t wash.” Angelica trapped Mary’s gaze. “So confess. You’ve got your eye on some gentleman, haven’t you?”

Mary narrowed her eyes, pressed her lips tight, but then, knowing Angelica far too well, admitted, “Yes. But it’s no one’s affair but my own. My hero—my choice.”

Angelica regarded her for several seconds, then her expression turned thoughtful, even intrigued. “Hmm . . .”

Mary waited, then, irritated but unable to resist—it was entirely true that she and Angelica were the most alike, and therefore most able to get under each other’s skins—prompted, “Hmm, what?”

Still regarding her, Angelica raised her brows. “It’s just that, to my knowledge, the necklace has never worked like that—with you deciding, and then, essentially, using it to verify your choice. That’s what you’re proposing to do, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But I don’t see why it won’t work like that.” Mary looked down at the necklace, at the section that supported the crystal pendant, which was currently trapped beneath her bodice and wedged between her breasts. The pendant, she realized, felt pleasantly warm, presumably from absorbing the heat from her flesh. “I’m perfectly certain I’ve found the right gentleman for me—I just . . . want confirmation.”

When she glanced up, Angelica searched her eyes, then more gently said, “You’re not sure. And if you aren’t . . .”

Mary tipped up her chin. “It’s not that—I am sure. If you knew who I have in mind, you’d agree he was perfect for me, too. I just need to have The Lady’s imprimatur—Her seal of approval. I fully expect Her to agree with my assessment.”

Angelica held Mary’s gaze for an instant more, then smiled and touched her arm. “Very well. I truly hope all goes as you wish. But . . . now don’t poker up at me, but if, now you’re wearing the necklace, you don’t . . . well, feel something special for this mystery gentleman of yours, if he doesn’t sweep you off your feet, or get under your skin to the point you simply can’t shrug him off, then please, promise me you’ll listen to The Lady’s advice. Trust me, it’s sound. No matter what, She won’t fail you.”

From where he was situated, Ryder could see enough of Mary’s face to guess her expression; her chin had firmed and her lips had set. Her stubbornness was legendary.

But, somewhat to his surprise, after a moment, she inclined her head. “Very well.” She paused, then said to Angelica, “Thank you. I know what you said is the truth.” Mary glanced down at the curious necklace encircling her slender throat. “If I want to find my hero, then I have to accept whatever verdict The Lady deigns to give.”

Angelica chuckled. “There—that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Laughing, she linked her arm with Mary’s, and together they turned to face the crowd. “Believe me, I know all about accepting The Lady’s decrees, but it worked for all of us, so trust me, it’ll work for you, too. Now come and talk to Dominic—he was saying he hasn’t had a chance to speak with you yet.”

Arm in arm, the pair moved into the crowd, heading down the room.