Chapter 18


    The Snuff Box that Isn’t


    Jane sought escape in the bathroom, but there was a


    queue already forming, and she saw Angelique amongst them,ughing with the other she–


    wolves. When she saw Jane, Angelique muttered something, and all the heads


    between her and Baron‘s blonde mistress turned to look at her with varying degrees of hostility.


    As Jane retreated, she heard theirughter follow her.


    “Jane,” Alice caught her by the elbow and pushed her into a side room. The moment the door


    closed behind them, Alice pped her, knocking Jane to the ground. Alice put her foot on


    Jane‘s hand, and Jane cried out in pain.


    “Alice, please,” Jane pleaded tugging at her sister‘s foot. “It was not my fault.”


    “You are a disgrace,” Alice said through her teeth.


    “An embarrassment to our family and your husband. No more calling our father pleading toe


    home, Jane. Your only use to us is


    through this marriage to Baron Western. Do you understand?” “Yes,” Jane sobbed out. “Please Alice.”


    Alice stepped off of Jane’s hand and reached down, picking her up. “Now, you said to our


    father that Angelique says the connection will end. What did she mean by that?”


    This belongs ? N?velDra/ma.Org.


    “I don’t know,” Jane tried to move her fingers, her hand throbbing. “I don‘t know.”


    “Find out,” Alice hissed and sighed heavily, releasing Jane, and smoothing her dress down. “And for f–


    ck sake Jane, get yourself together, you are an utter mess,” she said as she closed the door behind


    her.


    Jane tidied herself up, using herpact to see if Alice had left a mark on her face, but with her sister‘s


    usual skill, she had hit with maximum pain and minimal damage, keeping her hand


    open to disperse the blow. Jane‘s fingers were uncoordinated, but she was certain


    there were no broken bones.


    She re–joined the queue to the bathroom, and, without Angelique in the queue, there were


    whispers and looks, but no open hostility.


    She made it to the head of the queue and


    locked the door behind her with relief, using the toilet, washing her hands, and fixing her make-


    up, the damages of her tears and Alice’s attack disappearing behind powder and lipstick.


    As she left the bathroom


    and made her way back into the main room, a drunk Charles Wolston pinned her against


    the wall. “I have always wanted to try an omega,” he breathed alcohol over her. “I am told they


    submit so sweetly.”


    “Charles,” Baron‘s voice was hard. “That is my wife you have your hands on.”


    “Oh,e now Baron, everyone knows you are f–king Angelique and only married Jane


    to get in with the Corbyn pack,” Charles was unembarrassed and jovial. “I‘ll pay you


    ten thousand for her next heat. I‘ve always had a hankering to f-


    k an omega through one.” “Charles,” Baron‘s voice was icy. “Release my wife


    before wee to blows.”


    “Alright, then, Baron,” Charles Wolston was disgruntled. “No need to get your hackles up.”


    “We‘re leaving,” Baron sneered. “Good night, Charles.” He propelled Jane before him, the guests partin


    g before them with shocked looks as they took in his thunderous expression.


    “What did she do?” Someone asked.


    “I don‘t know, but she‘s going to get a beating.” Out the front, whilst they waited for their limousine to


    pull around, Jane struggled to regain her breath and fought back tears. Baron‘s grip


    on her arm was painful and he bristled


    with anger like a storm about to break. Charles Wolston had put it aptly; if Baron had been in wolf–


    form, his hackles would be raised.


    “Baron,” she pleaded. “Yes, Jane?” His eyes searched the driveway for the limousine.


    “You are hurting me.” He looked down at her in surprise and released her immediately. “I am


    sorry,” he murmured, smoothing the sleeve of her dress erasing his fingerprints from


    the velvet as if he thought to erase the bruises that he had left below the fabric. “I am sorry, Jane.” Not


    angry at her, she thought with relief.


    The limousine arrived and he opened the door, beating the chauffeur to it, and


    handed Jane in. As he closed the door behind him, he sank back onto the seat with a


    sigh, his long legs sprawled before him, and pulled something out of his pocket that looked like a


    snuff box. He opened it, and Jane saw within an impression of a key. He closed


    it again carefully, and the tension released from him. “I am sorry,” she whispered.


    “About what?” He looked at her in confusion and then his expression cleared. “Oh, f–king


    Wolston,” he grimaced and pushed himself up tugging his dinner jacket back into


    order. “He is a known lech, Jane, when he gets a few drinks in him. If it wasn‘t you, it would have


    been some other


    poor unfortunate girl trapped against a wall and under his hands. “He‘s otherwise a bore, but a benign o


    box that wasn‘t away into his breast pocket. “He‘ll ring me first thing in


    the morning, when he has slept off


    the drink and recalls his wrongs, and he will be profusely apologetic for feeling up my wife. I will use the


    want. “I owe you an apology,” he put his arm around her shoulder and drew her against


    his side, pressing his face into her hair and breathing in her scent. “I used you to get Angelique out of a


    “What situation?” She wondered, and then realised that she shouldn‘t have asked.


    “I am sorry, it‘s none of my business.” “No, it is,” he replied. “And the question is justified, but it


    is safer for you, and for us, if, at the moment, you don‘t know the details. I will tell you everything


    when there is no danger in doing so. Let‘s just say that Angelique had a key that she shouldn‘t have


    had and needed the opportunity to return it where it should have been, and me


    stomping out of the party like that afforded her the distraction she needed.” “Oh,” she didn‘t know wheth


    he had convinced everyone in the party that she was in trouble. Her reputation didn‘t matter to him at


    all, she thought angry tears burning hot trails down her cheeks so that


    she turned her face to the window to hide them from him.


    “I am sorry that I frightened you,” he said gently, passing her a silk


    handkerchief. She nodded and dabbed at her cheeks futilely with the silk. “I can‘t me Charles


    anyway,” he stroked his hand down her arm. “You are a walking temptation in


    this dress. I think I will need to get it off of you as soon as we get home.”