Camilla knew neither was true.

Her father was obsessed with something far more dangerous.

“Vexley does purchase through me quite often, though I’m only one of many dealers.”

An arm slipped around her waist.

“Now, darling, you’re much more than an art dealer to me.”

“Lord Vexley.”

Camilla’s spine stiffened at the most unwelcome weight of Vexley’s arm on her person.

When she thought it couldn’t get worse, the rake’s palm shifted lower, cupping her backside.

Camilla seethed from both the uninvited touch and Vex the Hex’s bold insinuation that there was more to their relationship. If she needed further proof that she must act tonight and win back her freedom, this was her sign. In fact, she prayed she wasn’t too late.

She quickly sidestepped, dislodging herself from the embrace without anyone—aside from Synton—noticing the lapse in propriety.

But Synton wasn’t looking at her at all. He was coolly staring Vexley down. His expression had turned so frosty with displeasure, for a moment she swore she could see her breath in the air.

“Do you always lay claim to things that don’t belong to you, Vexley?”

Camilla’s lips parted in shock. Did Synton sound… jealous?

Luckily, Vexley snorted like Synton had told a clever joke, signaling that he’d already helped himself to a few glasses of spirits.

“You must be the newly arrived Synton. I’ve heard you’re quite the collector yourself. Though I doubt yours is as large as mine.”

Synton ignored the insinuation, his attention landing squarely on Camilla once again. “I’d love a private tour of your gallery, Miss Antonius, to see your taste. I’m in the market for several pieces for my own gallery at Hemlock Hall.”

“Hemlock Hall?” Vexley interrupted, realizing he was being slighted. “That place is a wreck.”

“Miss Antonius?” Synton pressed, still not deigning to acknowledge their host.

Camilla understood immediately what Synton was offering. In his own bullheaded, arrogant way. She had no desire to be alone with him in Wisteria Way again, but that circumstance was far preferable to being within pinching distance of Vex the Hex.

“I can make time later this evening or tomorrow at first light.”

“Tonight, then.”

“Very well, my lord.”

Camilla wasn’t sure she should be grateful for Synton’s interference. It felt a little like hopping from a cast-iron skillet into a blazing fire.

Synton had an agenda of his own, but at least she was choosing which devil to get into bed with. Proverbially speaking, of course.

An image of Synton lying sprawled across dark sheets, bronze skin gleaming, arms folded behind his head, flashed in her mind before she banished it.

“Come now, Synny.” Vexley either missed or ignored the anger flickering in Synton’s eyes at the nickname. “Camilla shouldn’t be traipsing around the art district at indecent hours.”

“Miss Antonius has made her decision, and I don’t recall inquiring after your uninformed and, frankly, rather dull opinion, Vexley.”

Camilla sank her teeth into her lower lip to keep from drawing attention by either gasping or laughing. Synton had well and truly dressed the disgraced lord down in his own home.

A beat later, Vexley’s face flushed scarlet, the tips of his ears turning the brightest shade of pink she’d ever seen as his mind caught up with the insult.

Objectively, Vexley was a physically attractive man, but the way his face contorted now made him look demonic.

“How dare—”

A knock came at the drawing room door, quickly followed by the butler.

“Dinner is ready, my lord.”

Called to duty, Vexley immediately returned his demeanor to that of the unruffled rake, his mouth hitching high on one side in a lopsided smirk.

“The time to feast has arrived!” he announced, then twisted on his heel, wavering only slightly before offering his arm to Camilla. “Miss Antonius. Friends. Shall we?”

Camilla felt Synton’s heavy gaze land on her once again, weighted with disapproval, but she didn’t dare to look at him, nor to publicly reject Vexley’s theatrical chivalry.

All she had to do was make it through this dinner.

Then, after the more polite crowd had departed and the drinking began in earnest, she’d sneak off to find that forgery and set it ablaze, incinerating Vexley’s hold over her once and for all.

THE PRINCE OF Envy watched Camilla slowly place her hand in the crook of Vexley’s arm.

The very arm Envy had just fantasized about bodily removing. The splatter of blood would look rather arresting against the pale wallpaper, but he tamped his more violent instincts down.

Vexley was walking Camilla around like a prize. One he’d stolen, not won.

Envy was firmly of the thinking in the Seven Circles: when it came to the game of courtship, each person should want to play.

Vexley hadn’t given Camilla a choice—and from what Envy knew of the mortal customs, if she denied him, it would cause a scene.

And Miss Antonius didn’t appear to want to draw anyone’s eye for long tonight, for some reason. Though the deep hunter green of her silk gown matched Envy’s cravat and that kept holding his attention. Amid the sea of pastel-colored dresses skirting his peripheral vision, Camilla was a bold splash of darkness, intense and rich.

Despite his best effort not to notice, Camilla was beautiful.

Her silver hair had been curled delicately and clipped back from her face, showing off her pointed chin, her slender neck, and the simple yet stunning silver locket she wore that matched her eyes.

There was an elegance in the way she carried herself—her body made of the sort of delicate angles and swooping curves that begged to be captured on canvas. The way she moved now indicated that she wished to be as far from their host as possible.

Player or not—Envy still hadn’t decided—Vexley was making himself a complication in more ways than one. And Envy had no time to waste on fools.

Every day, his court weakened, a fault that was his alone.

Which was why he’d decided to go the more trusted route for this second attempt and seduce Camilla. It was purely a practical decision: it had nothing to do with how the candlelight was reflecting off her silver curls up ahead.

Envy offered his arm to the nearest woman—a vibrant redhead he briefly recalled had arrived with Camilla—and followed the procession down the corridor to the dining room.

“You’re the mysterious Lord Synton, I presume?” the redhead immediately asked.

“Is that what people are saying about me, Lady…?”

“Lady Katherine Edwards.”

He felt her gaze on him but kept his own locked on the procession of lords and ladies parading slowly toward the dining room. Envy fantasized about jabbing magical pokers at their asses to prod them along. Dinner hadn’t even started, and he was ready to leave.

“You’ve certainly made an impression,” she continued.

Envy glanced sidelong at Lady Edwards. “I do have that effect.”

She laughed, full and deep, drawing the attention of a dark-haired woman in front of them. The woman glanced back, surprising Envy with the open lust shining in her eyes.

Her focus shifted to Lady Edwards, and the dark-haired woman’s jealousy flared. He flashed a smile meant to intimidate and she averted her gaze.

“I see what my friend meant. You are trouble.”

His attention went to Camilla’s silver head at the front of the line. Lady Edwards was baiting him. And having entirely too much fun doing it.

But perhaps befriending her would put Camilla at ease. He allowed himself to don the mask of a charming but aloof noble.

“Tonight, I’d say I’m only slightly wicked, Lady Edwards.”

Envy was rather put off when he realized it was the truth.