Gift of Gold

house.

 
    Chapter Eighteen
     
    The instant she spotted Kincaid slipping out of the crowded salon, Verity made her decision. She had no option but to follow him. There was every possibility that he had realized Jonas had left a short time earlier. She couldn’t let Jonas be caught unawares.
    A few people milled around in the downstairs hall but no one paid any attention to Verity as she walked swiftly toward the back of the house. In a matter of seconds she was out of sight of everyone, hurrying along the corridor that would bring her to the back stairs. She had to get to the third floor and warn Jonas that Kincaid might be searching for him.
    Verity swung around the steel newel post, lifted her velvet skirts, and started up the stairs. She had raced up three steps when she heard Kincaid’s voice in the hall behind her. A chill went through her as she realized he had just come in from outside.
    “What a fortunate coincidence, Verity. I was just coming to look for you.”
    Verity stilled on the third step and turned to look at him. She forced herself to think clearly. Chances were that Jonas was still in Caitlin’s third-floor room. The best thing Verity could do now was to keep Kincaid occupied.
    “I was just going upstairs to my room to freshen up,” she said with a bright smile. “Have you been outside? It sounds like it’s pouring out there.”
    “It is. A very treacherous night.” He walked toward her, a pale-haired demon moving through shadow. He halted at the foot of the stairs. He didn’t bother to turn on the light. “A very dangerous night.”
    Verity didn’t need the overhead light to detect the strange excitement in Damon Kincaid. There was something very wrong about him. Her fingers trembled and she found herself clasping the folds of her velvet gown with enough force to whiten her knuckles. But her smile never wavered. She had a special restaurateur’s smile reserved for occasions when a difficult patron made a fuss. It was the one she used now.
    “Were you getting some fresh air outside?” she asked pleasantly. “I don’t blame you. It’s awfully crowded in the salon.” How much longer would Jonas be upstairs? she wondered. The next question was whether he would use this staircase or the front stairs when he returned to the party.
    “I agree. The crowd is a bit much,” Kincaid said easily. “Perhaps I’ll join you upstairs.” He put one foot on the bottom tread.
    Verity sucked in her breath as she instinctively retreated to the step behind her. She wished she had turned on the light at the foot of the staircase. Light would be comforting right now.
    She no longer tried to ignore her queasy stomach. In the shadows Kincaid was suddenly terrifying. He wore his Renaissance clothes with the nonchalance of a Borgia, looking as much at home in them as Jonas looked in his. The entire evening was taking on an air of unreality, aided and abetted by the elaborate masquerade arranged by Caitlin Evanger.
    “I’m afraid I’m heading for a powder room,” Verity managed to say brightly. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll see you in a few minutes back in the salon.” It took an incredible amount of courage to turn her back on him and start up the stairs with the air of a woman who was merely looking for a place to freshen her lipstick.
    The tactic was a mistake. Kincaid leaped soundlessly up the stairs behind her and whipped an arm around her throat. Verity felt the cold steel nose of a small gun on her neck and the sickening strength in his arm.
    “Not a sound, my lady, or I’ll squeeze the breath out of your windpipe.” Kincaid’s voice implied he would like nothing better than to carry out the threat.
    Verity didn’t doubt him for an instant. Her father had a saying for such moments, she recalled. It flashed through her head:
Things have gone from sugar to shit.
Where was Jonas?
    “What do you think you’re doing?” Verity demanded in a husky whisper.
    “Rearranging tonight’s agenda. Let’s go.” He urged her up the stairs. “We’ll give Tresslar a few minutes to finish the job he’s working on now, and then I’ll signal him and have him remove you to a less crowded location. I want to take my time having a little chat with you, Verity Ames. You’re going to give me some answers to some questions I didn’t have an opportunity to ask Quarrel.”
    Verity tried to turn her head and found the gun pressing into her throat. “What are you talking about? Who’s Tresslar?