Lady Golden Hand Read online

  “Fine, I’ll go tonight.” She capitulated as one thing was still true, she loved her mother.

  Lady Ancaster brightened suspiciously fast. “I’ll have the maid put out your gold gown.”

  Rayne groaned. “Not the gold one. It shows too much flesh. Seriously, Mother, I’m not going tonight to be ogled by men looking for a mistress.”

  Her mother slapped her shoulder. “Never. You’re a duke’s daughter, no one would insult your father like that. Besides there is going to be a dragon there tonight and gold is appropriate.” The dragons in the Wyvern Empire were all gold. Everyone at the ball tonight would be wearing gold in a hope to attract the attention of the dragon. It was the greatest achievement for a noble woman to marry a dragon. Unfortunately no dragon lived in Londinium so the dragon would be in demand.

  “Not gold, Mum. I’ll wear that black brocade number I ordered last month.” Her mother wrinkled her nose. The gown had gold accents but the black was more dominant. Rayne had ordered it after a spiteful woman had called her a lover of death. She hadn’t had the opportunity to wear it as she avoided society when she could. Or to be more accurate society avoided her.

  Her mother gave in too easily. “Fine, as long as you come with me to tea at Lady Pembroke’s next week.” Any hint of the pain before was gone from her mother’s eyes. Rayne really shouldn’t let her mother manipulate her.

  “Mother, you’re a shark. I think I’m bleeding.” She put her hand over her heart, imitating a fatal wound.

  Duchess Ancaster huffed at the play acting. “Oh, stop being so dramatic and go get dressed.” She flapped a hand to indicate haste was needed.

  Everett appeared at the top of the stairs. “You might as well give in, sis. She only gets worse if you resist.”

  Rayne skipped up the stairs and hugged Everett. He had been away at school for months and she had missed him. He was younger than her and it was through their games together that she had discovered her love for investigation. Back then it had been finding who had stolen his toy train.

  He returned the hug a little too tightly. At least he wasn’t embarrassed to show affection. There had been a few years there that he had resisted any show of fondness from her or others in the family.

  His eyes looked sad when she pulled back. She frowned but he gave the slightest shake of his head so she wouldn’t worry.

  “Besides you have to attend in order to protect me.” He shuddered dramatically. He clearly took after their mother.

  Rayne patted his cheek. “You’ll have to learn how to keep the mamas away someday. I’ll take pity on you this one time. You’ll owe me.” Sauntering away she grinned to herself, she wouldn’t have much time to ready herself for the ball, but she wasn’t going to rush.

  As she passed the small study on the second floor she saw her sister, Katherine, curled up with a book absently chewing on an early meal. When Rayne called a greeting she waved her hand with a slab of roast beef stuffed into some bread but her eyes never left her book. Rayne tutted at the scholarly bent that would have been beaten out of most women of society but encouraged in their family.

  When Rayne arrived in her room the maid was already laying out her black brocade which indicated her mother had planned all of this.

  ___

  The Inverness ball was a shindig worthy of the name. Carriages lined the street as those who had timed it perfectly were able to alight without an interminable wait. Others had to entertain themselves while they waited. Footmen in red and gold helped them from their carriage when their time arrived to disembark.

  Duchess Ancaster was a General when it came to timing. They arrived just before the crowds but still fashionably late. Their own wait had been minutes instead of hours.

  Everett didn’t wait for the footmen to help and skipped out of the carriage. He still had the lanky swagger of youth but he was starting to fill out into a frame that had been too awkward and tall for his teenage self. He probably would need help to keep away marriage minded mothers after all. They were barely inside when Everett said as he brushed passed them, “See you later.”

  Duchess Ancaster huffed, exasperated by her son. “That boy.” As they watched him socialise with some men who were working on a bridge that would span the Thames in Westminster. The second bridge of its kind. Everett wasn’t fascinated by bridges but he knew he could escape marriage minded mamas by hiding out with the dreadfully boring men who spoke only of their work. If any braved the scholars then it was Rayne’s job to play interference.

  Together Rayne and her mother eyed the ball room. Duchess Ancaster announced, “A very mixed crowd.”

  Rayne snorted softly. “You mean there are people from every level of society? I would never have considered you a snob, mother.”

  “Not a snob but I would have worn a different dress.” Probably one even more flamboyant than the emerald velvet and lace conflagration. Duchess Ancaster liked to make a splash when she could.

  She whacked Rayne on her arm with her fan and gestured with it to a space on the other side of the ball room. “That dragon is here.”

  “You’re surprised? You were the one who told me he would be here.” Across the room stood the dragon. There was not much to discern him from normal men. He wasn’t overly tall but he had striking features. Hair the colour of dusty mahogany.

  It was his eyes that set him apart. They were as golden as a hundred year old whiskey. He was dressed in a red and gold tailed coat. The fashion was a little out of date but he was still a dashing figure. As evidenced by the tittering women who stood suspiciously close. The dragon didn’t pay them any attention. Instead, he seemed very involved in a conversation with another gentleman.

  Duchess Ancaster said, “I see Lady Inverness. I’ll give her our greetings. Don’t go anywhere. I want you to meet the dragon.”

  Rayne couldn’t help but comment sarcastically, “Will you obtain an introduction?” It was usual for matrons to introduce new people to each other to maintain propriety.

  Duchess Ancaster whacked her with the fan again. “For a dragon? You have to be kidding. Dragons hate society and its airs. We’ll just go up to him and introduce ourselves.”

  Duchess Ancaster sauntered off. Before Rayne could make up her mind whether to wander off in search of some sustenance Sir Laurie said by her elbow, “Your Mother has certainly aged well. It runs in the family. A pity it skipped a generation or could your true pedigree be showing.”

  Rayne could not be accused of not being fully armed. She raised a single eyebrow a fraction and sniffed in disdain. “Are you implying my father’s pedigree isn’t good enough or that my mother is dishonourable enough to cuckold my father?” She ignored the fact that he had just called her old. The best way to deal with these kinds of insults was never to let them slide. Acknowledge and disarm was her father’s policy on insults in general.

  “I would never imply that,” He sneered. She didn’t want to insult him or call him out as that would only escalate the situation. He had once been the Governor of Londinium and now he held a prominent position at a bank that dealt with many of the people here. They would step up to protect him against the defective daughter of a duke. Not even good enough to marry, so in their eyes useless to society.

  Rayne flashed him her teeth in a mockery of a smile and said, “Excuse me, sir, I see my brother.” She sauntered off without even trying to pretend she was looking for her brother and stopped when she was far enough that he wouldn’t think of starting a conversation with her again.

  Lady Beechworth sidled up to Rayne with a spare glass of punch. At least the woman offered a gift when she came to gossip. “Seen the dragon yet?”

  “He has a name,” Rayne corrected her though he didn’t actually know it herself. Lady Beechworth was dressed in a deep blue that suited her skin tone. She was about the same age as Rayne’s mother, though Lady Beechworth didn’t use age to discriminate when it came to making friends. Instead she gathered around her the most interesting people in society.
She claimed they had the best stories.

  “Yes, but with so few dragons in England everyone is just calling him dragon.” One thing about Lady Beechworth, she always said what was on her mind. There was no chance of sly insults. If Lady Beechworth didn’t approve of someone, she would announce it to their face.

  “I think that is all they care about. That he is a dragon.” Rayne could imagine that he had been reduced to his components by the Ton. They could be cutting even with their compliments.

  Lady Beechworth snorted as they watched the debutants simper close to the dragon, who spoke rapidly and emphatically with a harried lord. Dragons had never bothered to learn how to socialise with humans. Being the top of the food chain Rayne could understand the hierarchy of thought there. Dragons in general made people nervous even when they weren’t reminded that dragons saw humans as an afternoon snack.

  Lady Beechworth turned philosophical and she pondered out loud, “I wonder if the girls realise that in attempting to be just like other women chosen by dragons they have actually taken themselves out of the running. The whole point of collecting is to gather things of a unique nature.” She waved her glass of punch towards the gaggle of girls all in gold gowns. No doubt they could all sing, play the pianoforte and paint a decent water colour. At least having her destiny so drastically changed at a young age meant Rayne had skipped many of those pursuits.

  She could sing but only passably and was pleased she didn’t have to torture people with her mediocre renditions at insipid recitals.

  Though it had been her left hand that had been amputated everyone had been sympathetic with any skill that required hands and when she had expressed a dislike for the pianoforte and painting she had been released from learning what was now a pointless skill in her current career.

  Lady Beechworth continued on with her own musings. “You would in fact be more of an interest to the dragon. Your career as the only female police investigator at the Scotland Yard and your hand place you in a class of your own. You should try to get his attention. He’d make you an admirable catch.”

  “He isn’t looking for a bride.” It was important to make sure Lady Beechworth didn’t start playing matchmaker. Duchess Ancaster was formidable enough. If the two ever combined their efforts Rayne wouldn’t stand a chance.

  “How do you know that?” Lady Beechworth’s voice was suddenly sharp.

  “He hasn’t looked at any of the women.” The dragon was in an emphatic conversation with a gentleman whose eyes were slowly glazing over. The women jostled, urging each other to approach the dragon but unwilling to break protocol.

  “Hardly anyone here of an interest to him. Can’t blame him for finding other entertainment. I’m sure if he met you he would change his mind.” Lady Beechworth was like a dog with a bone. She was unlikely to drop the subject unless Rayne convinced her to.

  “I’m not looking for a groom either.” The sharpness in her voice wasn’t to be mistaken and Lady Beechworth tipped her head to the side to take in Rayne.

  Eventually she came to a decision and tutted. “A shame. He could do with the companionship. Especially after the scandal that surrounded his first wife’s death. He has been away from society and people for four years.” Dragons were essentially immortal and any woman who married a dragon managed to benefit from that with extended life span themselves. It was unusual for a dragon bride to die from disease or childbirth.

  “How did she die?” Grateful for the new direction of the conversation, Rayne asked.

  “Murder.” More interesting and something which appealed to Rayne. Lady Beechworth at least was decent enough to continue with the whole story when she saw Rayne was mildly interested. “They had only been married for less than a week. A whirlwind romance. As it always is with dragons, they are an impatient lot for beings that are immortal. It was said she had changed her mind and ran away from him. He went searching all through the city only to find she had been murdered and left to rot in the Thames. He was distraught and blamed himself. He left Londinium after that. I don’t think he has returned since. Not sure what brought him back. I think Eleanor was silly to run away from that handsome dragon.”

  “Eleanor?” It was probably a coincidence that she bore the same name that was engraved on the wedding ring. But what if what had brought the dragon to Londinium was the ring? Maybe he had killed the man with the ring. Except the dragon would have likely taken the ring if that was the case.

  There were flaws in her theory but still intriguing enough for her to hand her empty punch glass to a passing footman. “I think I’ll go and talk to the dragon after all.” Lady Beechworth chuckled, seeing this as a victory.

  Rayne approached the dragon and she bowed her head a little in greeting. “Lord Dragon,” she said politely.

  “It’s Victor.” He offered his name as his eyes flashed with gold interest. The lord, the dragon had been torturing with his chatter, muttered an excuse and made his escape. Victor glanced after the man only briefly before he took her in. His eyes rested on her hand. He grabbed for it but she had known the acquisition-minded dragon would attempt the move so it was easy to evade him.

  “Tut, tut Dragon, it’s rude to grab things.” She wagged a finger of her normal hand as she would with a naughty child. He did not look embarrassed. Rayne didn’t think the breed could feel shame.

  He asked, excitement making him shift from foot to foot, “Is it made from brass? Do you have any sensation? Is it easy to maintain? I’ve heard of the progress in prosthetics but I haven’t come across one yet. Fascinating.”

  “My father had a tinker from the continent brought over to make it for me a few years ago. Before that I had something a lot less sophisticated. I’m interested to know, dragon, why you have returned to Londinium? I heard you left years ago.”

  “Victor,” he reminded her, “and I thought it was time. This is my territory anyway.” He shrugged. His eyes still on her hand rather than on her face. She had caught people staring before but never this blatantly. Colour touched her cheeks. Coughing to cover her reaction she made sure to stay on topic.

  “Londinium is your territory?”

  “Well, I have a place out in Surrey. Londinium, like most cities, is considered neutral though fighting amongst dragons is practically unheard of in the Empire. We are a family. I also have a place in town where I’m staying at the moment.”

  “Are you related to the Empress then?” Most of the nobility were related to the Empress but it was rumoured that the dragons had closer links.

  He snorted at the concept. “Unlikely. I never knew my parents. The Emperor always kept tabs on his relatives and he would have claimed me by now if I was related. No, I mean we have made a family. Are you sure I can’t examine your hand closer?” She didn’t correct him that it was an Empress on the throne. He must find it hard to keep up with the ruling monarch when they never remained long on the throne and he was so long lived.

  “You may, but I have a few questions of my own.” She offered her hand, which he took it in his own, with reverence instead of revulsion. He twisted and turned her hand gently, aware that it was still attached to her. There were many that treated it like it was an accessory instead of the extension of herself it was.

  He pushed her sleeve up cautiously to reveal the edge of the mechanical hand. It was held on with leather straps that were then attached to a harness that went under her gown and across her torso. Unless someone cut the leather there was no way they would be able to detach her hand. Considering the small fortune her father had paid for the hand it was of some comfort to know it couldn’t be easily stolen.

  He bent her fingers individually and peered between the creases to have a peek at the inner workings. While he was distracted she asked, “Did you ever give your bride a wedding ring?”

  “Of course. Dragons always share their collection with their brides. A delicate little thing. She never liked anything too fancy so it was an engraved gold band.” Awkwardly, as he still had her hand
in his as he continued to look at the workmanship the plated brass revealed, she took the ring out of her pocket. She always insisted on pockets on her gowns. Reticules were too annoying to bear.

  He let go of her hand to focus on her face. “Why are you asking?”

  Glad he had released her hand as she needed it to fold back the handkerchief to reveal the ring. Rayne wasn’t sure what reaction she had expected but the bright blue light had her stumbling back. His dragon form filled the space with golden scales. He crouched low so he didn’t damage the ceiling. His large square head had short horns on the top and threatened to gouge the plaster on the ceiling. She could make out the individual gold scales of his body as she backed up. His chest had finer scales that were pearlescent rather than gold while the rest of his body had scales the size of her palm.

  He roared but Rayne managed to keep her feet though she did turn pale. His teeth were closer than was comfortable. And certainly larger than was comfortable.

  His claws slammed down on either side of her. Hardwood floors shattered and showered her with splinters. She flinched as pain sliced her cheek. Hot breath bathed her as Victor roared. Saliva dripped off teeth that were as long as her arm.

  His roaring stopped and he turned, his tail whipped people off their feet. Rayne could now hear people screaming and running. They shouldn’t have bothered as Victor was heading away. Besides with the treaty in place he wasn’t about to turn the ball into a buffet.

  He disappeared and a flash of light outside revealed he had transported himself outside. She had never heard of dragons being able to do that. She knew they could manipulate matter and store things away but she hadn’t been aware that they could transport themselves over space. She ran to the window and saw him flying over the city.

  One thing was clear. The ring had belonged to his dead wife. Also she was unlikely to be invited to Inverness’ next ball.