A Dangerous Game

by Julia Templeton

  Nicolette raced for the ballroom, and made her way through the crowd. Her heart slammed to a stop.

  Salvatore stood on stage, eyes closed, playing Beethoven’s Violin Sonata No. 5 in F major.

  Dressed brilliantly in a black suit, snow-white shirt, cravat and a gold waistcoat, his hair was even longer than last she saw him. Her heart pounded in time to the music, her stomach clenching in anticipation. Lord, how she had missed him, and now she drank in the sight.

  Charlotte had found her way to Nicolette, and she took hold of her hand, squeezing it tight in her own. Nicolette could not tear her eyes away as Salvatore played. He seemed in his own world, and she realized with a start, that he had not changed the way he played at all, except for who he played with. A woman dressed in a gold gown that matched the color of Salvatore’s waistcoat perfectly, sat at the piano, her fingers dancing over the keys.

  Raw jealousy ripped through Nicolette. She could not believe she had so easily been replaced.

  The woman watched Salvatore without blinking, her movements mechanical, but not at all fluid. To others she played splendidly, but Nicolette felt she needed immense work, particularly on Moonlight Serenade, a song Nicolette and Salvatore had written while in Venice.

  Pushing aside the raw jealousy, Nicolette stared at Salvatore. He was thinner, but healthy, and she wondered if he missed her even a little. Perhaps the money he had acquired made up for the loss of her friendship.

  If only she could forget him as he had forgotten her.

  Nicolette’s throat grew tight. He had written new songs in their time apart, and the notes tugged at her heart.

  Lord, how I have missed that sweet sound. She had not realized how much until now.

  Song after song he played, his charming smile in place for the crowd, who adored him. Roses were thrown on stage, no doubt from women who desired his attention. Jealousy raged within Nicolette seeing a beautiful blonde near side stage. In between a song he took the rose from the woman, and kissed her hand.

  “She does not hold a candle to you,” Charlotte murmured, but it did not help the envy or pain she felt.

  When he finished the set, the crowd applauded, but it was fast in coming and quit far too soon. Salvatore, taking his partner by the hand, bowed while the brunette took her curtsy.

  Along with the faint applause, she also noted that more than a few people were looking in Darian’s direction. Had he told them about Salvatore’s plan to ruin him? It seemed word had leaked.

  As Salvatore and his partner exited the stage, Nicolette looked at Darian and she had her answer. He had not been quiet about the intended seduction. He had told anyone who would listen what Salvatore had done, and had no doubt left out her involvement in the scheme. If possible, she despised him even more at that moment.

  *****

  Salvatore’s partner kissed his cheek. “I will be back in quarter of an hour. Is that plenty of time before the next set?”

  “Indeed, it is, Marcel. Now, go, your husband will be waiting for you.”

  The woman, a student of his, had offered to play with him tonight. He knew that the reason for her offer was to attend a ball, especially one as prestigious as Baron Cardowis’ ball. Being the daughter of a milliner, she had never seen what the other half lived like, and tonight she had seen the true ugliness of it all. No wonder she was anxious to return to her husband, who waited near the servants’ entrance.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please.”

  The announcement brought Salvatore to the double doors off the grand ballroom. The host of tonight’s festivities, Lord Cardowis, stood with a couple on stage. Adrenaline rushed through his veins. It was Simon Laurent and his wife, Henrietta.

  The room of four-hundred-plus guests gathered around. His curiosity piqued, Salvatore took a step in, his heart trip-hammering. If Simon Laurent were here, then chances were Nic would be too.

  His gaze scanned the crowd, his heart pounding hard every time he saw a woman with auburn hair. Then he spotted Nicolette standing next to Charlotte. Her hair had been swept up in an elegant coiffure that showed her long neck to perfection. A string of pearls had been woven throughout the auburn tresses, matching the ones that encased her slender throat. She was not looking at the stage, but at the crowd, and he had the audacity to wonder, even for a moment, if she searched for him. Obviously she had seen him play.

  All night he had felt nervous, and while he played he had not allowed himself the luxury of looking out over the sea of faces. He was sure if he had seen her then, he would not have been able to get through the first set. As it was, it would be most difficult to continue on with the next.

  His heart constricted. She had grown even more beautiful in his absence.

  “On this special night that marks my twenty-fifth wedding anniversary, I have the distinct honor of introducing another joining.”

  Salvatore’s palms started to sweat when the baron nodded to Simon, who stepped forward.

  Lord Wellesley cleared his throat and held his hand out to Nicolette.

  Nicolette glanced at Charlotte, who urged her forward. Looking like she’d rather be anywhere else, she took her father’s hand.

  The marquess kissed her hand. “This is my daughter Lady Nicolette Laurent.”

  “Ahh,” the crowd said nearly in unison, as though they had not heard the gossip a full two months before. Applause followed the introduction.

  “Please join me in welcoming Nicolette into my family.”

  Simon beamed down at his daughter, kissing her on the cheek, then Henrietta did the same, but went a step further by embracing her, no doubt winning points as being the most understanding wife of the ton. Salvatore doubted most women of the peerage would be so accepting of their husband’s bastard children.

  “I also have the immense pleasure in announcing a most grand event.”

  The hair on Salvatore’s arms stood on end and foreboding washed over him. Walking through the crowd, a head taller than the rest, was Darian Tremayne. He made his way to the stage, a confident smile on his face.

  Nicolette shifted on her feet, looking from her father to Darian then back again. He could see she was as surprised at the announcement as she stared in disbelief.

  Dear God what were they about?

  Salvatore pushed away from the wall, having half a mind to stop what was surely about to happen.

  A hand clamped over his wrist. It was Viscount Athenry, Darian’s friend who’d been at Kedgwick Manor. “I suggest you stay where you are,” he said, a tight smile on his face. “You are merely the entertainment here, and don’t you forget it.”

  “And here he is,” Simon said, clasping hands with Darian. “It is my great honor to announce the engagement of my daughter, Lady Nicolette, to Darian Tremayne, Earl of Kedgwick.”

  Salvatore closed his eyes, unable to stand the sight of the man he hated more than life, claiming the woman he loved more than life itself...and lost.

  He had no one to blame but himself.

  There were gasps and many shocked faces, and then everyone politely applauded.

  “I wanted you, my dearest friends, to hear it from me first,” Simon said. “Please know that you all will be invited to the upcoming nuptials.”

  Simon took Henrietta’s hand, while Darian reached for Nicolette’s.

  Salvatore wrenched away from the viscount’s grip. “I have a set to play.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “May I have a word with you?”

  Though it had been just a quarter of an hour since the announcement of her engagement, Nicolette had not had a moment to say a single word. She could not have if she wanted to, so shocked and stunned she was by Simon’s audacity.

  Darian turned to her, a steady smile in place. “Of course.”

  Aw
are that eyes followed them everywhere, Nicolette smiled prettily at him. “I have no desire to marry you.”

  Darian’s eyes narrowed. “You could do far worse than marrying an earl, my dear.”

  “I think it is incredibly arrogant, not to mention rude of you to announce my engagement to me at the same time you are telling all of London.”

  The sides of his mouth curved into a cruel smile. “You are the envy of every woman here, Nic.”

  She did not like him calling her Nic. That nickname had been reserved for Salvatore.

  “I do not want to marry you.”

  He lifted a brow. “Do you want Salvatore to be ruined? You know I have the power to bring about his downfall. He planned to do the same to me. I simply was returning the favor.”

  “I’ve little doubt you’ve already set about ruining him.” If possible, he had sunk to an even lower level. “Why would you seek to hurt him? He’s done nothing to you.”

  Darian snorted. “He has done enough.”

  “Like what? You never desired to marry Elizabeth, and now you aren’t.”

  “Indeed, now I will have a beautiful wife, and receive a nice dowry as well.”

  Her pulse skittered. “Simon is giving you a dowry?”

  “Don’t you think it time you call me Father?”

  Nicolette started at the sound of Simon’s voice. He clamped hands with Darian.

  “I shall be honored to call you Father,” Darian said, going so far as to embrace Simon.

  “And I will be honored to call you my son,” Simon returned.

  Nicolette looked to Henrietta for help, but the woman just smiled, obviously elated by the news. She would get no help from that quarter, but she knew whom she could depend on.

  Charlotte.

  “Will you please excuse me for a moment? I need to find someone,” Nicolette said, stepping past them, but Darian grabbed her by the shoulder.

  “Where are you going, Nicolette?”

  Nicolette turned, and prying Darian’s hand from her shoulder, replied, “I am going to see Charlotte. I would appreciate it if you would not treat me like your possession.”

  “Nicolette,” Simon said beneath his breath. “You are behaving shamelessly. Darian is your betrothed and he has every right to know where you are off to.”

  “And I told him where I was going, Simon.”

  Her father’s brows furrowed. “You will give me the respect I am due, Nicolette.”

  Oh, how she yearned to tell him that he did not deserve her respect. What would all these people think if they knew the real Lord Wellesley—a man who had loved an actress, then turned her into a whore because of his abandonment of them. “I am off to see my friend.”

  Without another word, Nicolette raced off and left the three of them watching after her.

  Nicolette scoured the room, looking for Salvatore.

  Praying he had not left, she spied Charlotte sitting by an elderly woman in the corner. Nicolette made her way toward her friend, when from the corner of her eye she saw Salvatore and his partner walk onstage.

  He looked straight at her. No smile, no expression at all.

  Her heart hammered so loud, it was a roar that filled her ears.

  Salvatore cleared his throat. “I would like to start this set with a song I wrote for a dear friend of mine. I have never played it in public before, so you are the first to hear it.”

  Darian stepped up beside her, putting a possessive hand around her waist. Nicolette felt it like a cold weight. Salvatore ran the bow over the strings, the tune a lighthearted melody that seemed to express their years as children. While he played, he looked straight at her, and people were beginning to notice. Darian stiffened at her side.

  As the song continued, it slowed and saddened. Tears burned her eyes and she wondered if that is how he felt now, because it surely was how she had felt since they had parted.

  A tear ran down her cheek, onto her chest, only to be followed by another. The music picked up once again, and then he blended the two, almost in a chaotic way, that had the crowd clapping loudly.

  The song ended on a haunting note. Then and only then, did he break eye contact, nodding his thanks to the crowd. He turned to his partner, who took her seat at the bench, and they played a waltz. Darian took her hand. “Come, dance with me.”

  “I do not care to.”

  “Wipe the tears from your eyes, Nicolette.”

  She frowned. “Why?”

  “I will not have my fiancée pining for a musician.” He said the words as though it disgusted him. Like Salvatore was so beneath him.

  “He is my friend, and I love him more than anyone else in this world.”

  He squeezed her hand tight.

  “My lord, I suggest you let go of me now, or I will scream so loud, it will wake the dead.”

  She could tell by expression alone that he believed she bluffed. Nicolette opened her mouth and he dropped her hand.

  Nicolette found Charlotte still sitting beside the elderly woman. Her friend looked pale, and instantly concerned, she took the seat to her left. “Are you all right?”

  Charlotte nodded. “I suppose I should be asking you that question.”

  There was no condemnation in her voice, just curiosity.

  “I am not marrying him, Charlotte. You know that.”

  Charlotte smiled sadly. “I thought as much. I could see the shock on your face when the announcement was made.”

  “I did not want to hurt Simon.”

  “I know you don’t. But what of yourself?”

  Nicolette glanced at the stage, where Salvatore played. He had his eyes closed.

  “He is so gorgeous, Nicolette.” Charlotte sighed. “Look at all the women in the room. Look at how they watch him.”

  Nicolette had always made such a point to close her eyes while playing, that she had never really noticed how enraptured the audience became. Women and men alike stared—even the ones dancing.

  “I do not know how you composed yourself when he played you that song. You know it was for you and you alone.”

  Nicolette nodded. “Yes, I knew, and I scarcely kept my composure. I need to see him.”

  Charlotte’s lips curved. “My friend Madeline has invited us to a party over at the Clarendon Hotel, not far from here…and I have it on good authority that Salvatore will be there.”

  Excitement rushed through Nicolette. “But what of Darian? He’ll never let me go without him.”

  Charlotte pursed her lips together. “You just leave Darian to me.”

  *****

  The reception room at the Clarendon Hotel was standing room only. Nicolette smoothed out the skirts of her forest green gown.

  “Look, there he is.” Charlotte pointed across the room, to where Salvatore stood talking with an older gentleman. He laughed at something the man said, nodding in agreement.

  She had never been so nervous. Her palms were sweating beneath her gloves. Charlotte took charge, taking Nicolette by the hand and making her way directly to Salvatore.

  They were intercepted by Madeline, who exclaimed, “You must let me do the honor.” Smiling like the cat who ate the canary, she tapped on Salvatore’s shoulder.

  Salvatore turned, his gaze shifting from Madeline to her.

  Nicolette’s heart missed a beat.

  His smile faltered, but only for a moment. “Nicolette,” he said, his eyes shifting over her. “You look amazing.”

  “So do you.”

  “Why don’t we find some punch,” Charlotte said to Madeline and the older gentleman, leaving her and Salvatore alone.

  She shifted on her feet. “You played wonderfully tonight.”

  The sides of his mouth lifted, and her stomach tightened. How she had
missed that smile. “Thank you.”

  How awkward it felt, this wall that had been built between them. “I love the new song.”

  “Thank you.” His gaze slowly slid over her in a way that made her nipples harden and heat sweep low into her groin. “How are you, Nic?”

  Though she had promised herself she would spare no tears, she felt them burning the backs of her eyes. The reunion she had envisioned had not happened and she was devastated. He had gone on with his life. He did not have a place for her in it. “I am well. Charlotte has been very good to me.”

  “I am glad to hear it.” He took a sip of champagne, watching her over the rim the entire time. “And your father? It seems he has let all the skeletons out of his closet.”

  Nicolette let her gaze slip to his cravat and the diamond stud there. No doubt a bounty from the money her father had given him. “Yes, he’s happy to have a child.”

  He frowned. “I thought you would stay with him.”

  She shook her head. “No, that would be too awkward.”

  “And Darian?”

  She flinched. “I had no idea about the engagement until the announcement. I have not even seen Darian since Kedgwick Manor.”

  His jaw clenched and his gaze searched hers. “He wasted no time getting rid of Elizabeth, did he?”

  “I was as shocked as you were.”

  “Truly?” There was something in his eyes that told her he did not believe her. Did he think she had slept with Darian?

  She bristled beneath that stare. “Yes.”

  The pianist who played with him, Nicolette’s replacement, came up then, interrupting them. There was so much she wanted to say to him, to tell him that she and Darian had never been intimate. “Salvatore, you must meet Sir Percy, the man I told you about earlier this week. The one who would like us to play at his daughter’s wedding,” the girl gushed, embracing him like Nicolette wanted to do.