The Glittering Court
Page 57
“I don’t think anyone was too upset,” remarked Nicholas. “At least not in the colonies. Too many think we’re overtaxed as it is.”
“It’s about the larger picture,” the man insisted. “If the king’s ships aren’t off-limits, then what is? Pirates don’t even stick to the seas anymore. I hear those devils walk the street now. Billy Marshall. Bones Jacobi. Tim Shortsleeves.”
“I believe his name is Tom Shortsleeves. And don’t forget there are some lady pirates as well,” I said. Mira lived for the stories of Cape Triumph’s pirates and kept me informed. If one of them had made an offer to her, she probably would’ve been married by now. “Joanna Steel. Lady Aviel.”
“And if the stories are true, they’ve saved a number of innocents,” added Nicholas. “From thieves and whatnot.”
The other man frowned. “Yes, and that’s all well and good . . . but they’re still outlaws! And having women involved . . . with swords? Can you even imagine such a thing? What’s to become of this world if such a thing catches on?”
“Indeed,” said Nicholas, deadpan. “If women start defending themselves, what use will they have for us?”
I had to cough to cover a laugh. This drew my neighbor’s attention to me, and I groped for a response. “Well . . . at least I hear they dress well. They aren’t shoddy pirates. What is it they say? Golden cloaks, peacock feathers. It all sounds very flashy to me.”
“I’ve never trusted peacocks,” growled the man. “Everyone goes on about how beautiful they are, but have you ever seen one up close? There’s a look in those beady little eyes of theirs. They know more than they’re letting on.” He closed the conversation by downing an entire cup of wine in one go.
When dinner ended and we retired for drinks, Nicholas couldn’t entirely monopolize me. Courtesy dictated I speak to others—but none of them were Warren. With whatever magic Cedric worked, Warren remained occupied. Once, I saw Mira avidly engaging him in conversation. Well, she was engaged. He looked trapped. I wondered if Cedric had sent her.
As the evening wrapped up and guests departed, Cedric caught me for a private moment.
“Well?” he asked.
“He’s everything you promised. I actually had a nice time.”
“Excellent.” Normally, Cedric would’ve looked smugger over such a triumph. Not so tonight. “I’ll have to work on him a little more, but if all goes well, I think I could expedite an offer and manage a covert wedding before the Doyles catch on. Unorthodox, but so long as I’ve handled the paperwork correctly and he pays your minimum, there’s nothing that goes against contract.”
“That’s great. That’s really . . .” The words caught in my throat, and I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t pretend gladness over a wedding I didn’t want, not when Cedric was standing in front of me. I rarely cried, but tears started to form in my eyes. Angrily, I blinked them away.
“Adelaide . . .” In his voice, I heard the same anguish I felt. His hand started to move toward me, and then he sharply pulled it away, clenching it as I’d done with mine earlier.
“There you are!”
Jasper strode up to us, and he was fuming. It was a rare sight, compared to his genteel public persona. “Adelaide, Mister Doyle and his mother are about to leave. You will go over to them now and bid them a proper farewell, with a promise to see them at another time.”
“Father—”
“No.” Jasper held a warning finger up to Cedric. “I don’t want to hear another word. You’ve already ruined this night by throwing her together with that lawyer! Do you think he can pay her minimum? He’s certainly not going to bid more if others are interested. I told you before, I will not let you ruin this.” Jasper fixed his hard gaze on me. “Now. Go.”
Cedric started to protest, but I waved it away. I didn’t want him in any more trouble. I gave Jasper a small curtsey. “Of course, Mister Thorn.”
Across the room, Warren and Viola were indeed making their exit. “Adelaide,” said Warren. “What a pity we couldn’t talk more. I wanted to tell you about some developments with the gold fields in Hadisen.”
“How fascinating,” I said, conscious of Jasper watching me. “Perhaps we could do it another time. I would so love to hear more.”
“Oh?” asked Viola archly. “I thought you were more interested in the law.”
I smiled sweetly. “Oh, Mistress Doyle. You know how these things are. They have us make the rounds—meet new people. It’s just a formality.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “It’d be a shame for you to be singling anyone out this soon.”
I nodded, even though it really wasn’t early in the season anymore, especially with so many girls having made contracts already. “Indeed. I’m just trying to be courteous.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Well then, perhaps you will soon be motivated to show Warren the courtesy of a private visit. We wouldn’t want anyone to think you were putting on airs or behaving above your rank.”
I swallowed. “Certainly not.”
The party didn’t run as late as many of our others, but when morning came around, most of us were exhausted. It had all been wrapped in glitter and decorum, but these last few weeks had been grueling. As Nicholas Adelton had said, it was a tough job, no matter the surface appearance.
Some of the engaged girls still attended parties; others had opted out and now busily planned their weddings. The Glittering Court had no involvement in the wedding once the paperwork and payments were settled. Each girl was allowed to keep one dress, which she usually was married in. The extent of the rest of the wedding depended on the prospective husband. Some threw grandiose affairs. Some were too wiped out financially to afford much more than a magistrate’s fees.
Mistress Culpepper maintained a strict schedule and required all of us, engaged or not, to eat breakfast at exactly the same time each day. I didn’t mind the early wakeup, if only because breakfast was a brief reprieve from our social whirl. The Thorns, able to eat at their leisure, strolled in near the end of our meal, as was typical. Mistress Culpepper quickly found them chairs, seating Cedric next to me. I didn’t dare look at him, but the proximity made our legs touch under the table. At first, I kept my leg tense, but then I let it relax against his. I felt him do the same. For the remainder of the meal, I had no idea what I ate or said. My entire world focused on that touch.
One of the men who guarded the door called out that we had a guest. Mistress Culpepper hurried out of the dining room to investigate, and none of us reacted with much interest. Servants and messengers came and went at all times. Men with more serious intentions were politely told to come back later if they didn’t have an appointment.
So, it was a surprise when a pale Mistress Culpepper returned to us with a tall man following her. He wore a cheap, ill-fitting suit in plain worsted wool, which had to be uncomfortable with the recent spring turn our weather had taken. Gray streaked his thinning hair, and hard lines were etched into his face. Clearly, this was no enterprising suitor. Everyone around the table looked puzzled—everyone except Mira, oddly enough. She straightened up in her chair, eyes sharp. I couldn’t entirely decipher her expression. Shocked? Calculating? Maybe a little of both.
“It’s about the larger picture,” the man insisted. “If the king’s ships aren’t off-limits, then what is? Pirates don’t even stick to the seas anymore. I hear those devils walk the street now. Billy Marshall. Bones Jacobi. Tim Shortsleeves.”
“I believe his name is Tom Shortsleeves. And don’t forget there are some lady pirates as well,” I said. Mira lived for the stories of Cape Triumph’s pirates and kept me informed. If one of them had made an offer to her, she probably would’ve been married by now. “Joanna Steel. Lady Aviel.”
“And if the stories are true, they’ve saved a number of innocents,” added Nicholas. “From thieves and whatnot.”
The other man frowned. “Yes, and that’s all well and good . . . but they’re still outlaws! And having women involved . . . with swords? Can you even imagine such a thing? What’s to become of this world if such a thing catches on?”
“Indeed,” said Nicholas, deadpan. “If women start defending themselves, what use will they have for us?”
I had to cough to cover a laugh. This drew my neighbor’s attention to me, and I groped for a response. “Well . . . at least I hear they dress well. They aren’t shoddy pirates. What is it they say? Golden cloaks, peacock feathers. It all sounds very flashy to me.”
“I’ve never trusted peacocks,” growled the man. “Everyone goes on about how beautiful they are, but have you ever seen one up close? There’s a look in those beady little eyes of theirs. They know more than they’re letting on.” He closed the conversation by downing an entire cup of wine in one go.
When dinner ended and we retired for drinks, Nicholas couldn’t entirely monopolize me. Courtesy dictated I speak to others—but none of them were Warren. With whatever magic Cedric worked, Warren remained occupied. Once, I saw Mira avidly engaging him in conversation. Well, she was engaged. He looked trapped. I wondered if Cedric had sent her.
As the evening wrapped up and guests departed, Cedric caught me for a private moment.
“Well?” he asked.
“He’s everything you promised. I actually had a nice time.”
“Excellent.” Normally, Cedric would’ve looked smugger over such a triumph. Not so tonight. “I’ll have to work on him a little more, but if all goes well, I think I could expedite an offer and manage a covert wedding before the Doyles catch on. Unorthodox, but so long as I’ve handled the paperwork correctly and he pays your minimum, there’s nothing that goes against contract.”
“That’s great. That’s really . . .” The words caught in my throat, and I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t pretend gladness over a wedding I didn’t want, not when Cedric was standing in front of me. I rarely cried, but tears started to form in my eyes. Angrily, I blinked them away.
“Adelaide . . .” In his voice, I heard the same anguish I felt. His hand started to move toward me, and then he sharply pulled it away, clenching it as I’d done with mine earlier.
“There you are!”
Jasper strode up to us, and he was fuming. It was a rare sight, compared to his genteel public persona. “Adelaide, Mister Doyle and his mother are about to leave. You will go over to them now and bid them a proper farewell, with a promise to see them at another time.”
“Father—”
“No.” Jasper held a warning finger up to Cedric. “I don’t want to hear another word. You’ve already ruined this night by throwing her together with that lawyer! Do you think he can pay her minimum? He’s certainly not going to bid more if others are interested. I told you before, I will not let you ruin this.” Jasper fixed his hard gaze on me. “Now. Go.”
Cedric started to protest, but I waved it away. I didn’t want him in any more trouble. I gave Jasper a small curtsey. “Of course, Mister Thorn.”
Across the room, Warren and Viola were indeed making their exit. “Adelaide,” said Warren. “What a pity we couldn’t talk more. I wanted to tell you about some developments with the gold fields in Hadisen.”
“How fascinating,” I said, conscious of Jasper watching me. “Perhaps we could do it another time. I would so love to hear more.”
“Oh?” asked Viola archly. “I thought you were more interested in the law.”
I smiled sweetly. “Oh, Mistress Doyle. You know how these things are. They have us make the rounds—meet new people. It’s just a formality.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “It’d be a shame for you to be singling anyone out this soon.”
I nodded, even though it really wasn’t early in the season anymore, especially with so many girls having made contracts already. “Indeed. I’m just trying to be courteous.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Well then, perhaps you will soon be motivated to show Warren the courtesy of a private visit. We wouldn’t want anyone to think you were putting on airs or behaving above your rank.”
I swallowed. “Certainly not.”
The party didn’t run as late as many of our others, but when morning came around, most of us were exhausted. It had all been wrapped in glitter and decorum, but these last few weeks had been grueling. As Nicholas Adelton had said, it was a tough job, no matter the surface appearance.
Some of the engaged girls still attended parties; others had opted out and now busily planned their weddings. The Glittering Court had no involvement in the wedding once the paperwork and payments were settled. Each girl was allowed to keep one dress, which she usually was married in. The extent of the rest of the wedding depended on the prospective husband. Some threw grandiose affairs. Some were too wiped out financially to afford much more than a magistrate’s fees.
Mistress Culpepper maintained a strict schedule and required all of us, engaged or not, to eat breakfast at exactly the same time each day. I didn’t mind the early wakeup, if only because breakfast was a brief reprieve from our social whirl. The Thorns, able to eat at their leisure, strolled in near the end of our meal, as was typical. Mistress Culpepper quickly found them chairs, seating Cedric next to me. I didn’t dare look at him, but the proximity made our legs touch under the table. At first, I kept my leg tense, but then I let it relax against his. I felt him do the same. For the remainder of the meal, I had no idea what I ate or said. My entire world focused on that touch.
One of the men who guarded the door called out that we had a guest. Mistress Culpepper hurried out of the dining room to investigate, and none of us reacted with much interest. Servants and messengers came and went at all times. Men with more serious intentions were politely told to come back later if they didn’t have an appointment.
So, it was a surprise when a pale Mistress Culpepper returned to us with a tall man following her. He wore a cheap, ill-fitting suit in plain worsted wool, which had to be uncomfortable with the recent spring turn our weather had taken. Gray streaked his thinning hair, and hard lines were etched into his face. Clearly, this was no enterprising suitor. Everyone around the table looked puzzled—everyone except Mira, oddly enough. She straightened up in her chair, eyes sharp. I couldn’t entirely decipher her expression. Shocked? Calculating? Maybe a little of both.
