The Glittering Court (22 page)

At dinner, Cedric contrived to have Nicholas sit beside me—with Warren far down at the other end. He would occasionally shoot me pining looks, while Viola simply glared daggers. On the other side of me was an older gentleman, grumbling about how Cape Triumph was “falling into chaos.”

“Anarchy,” he told Nicholas and me. “That's what's happening here. The governor needs to get control before these miscreants take over. Did you hear that those Alanzan heretics they caught last week have already escaped from jail? And where is the army? Why are more and more soldiers going to other colonies? Icori are amassing in the west—they haven't left, no matter what those fools say. Then there's the pirates. A royal tax ship bound for Osfrid was taken last week. The nerve.”

“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.

Charles rose from the table, straightening his jacket. He was as clueless as the rest of us, but he knew there had to be a reason Mistress Culpepper had admitted a guest at this hour. “May I help you, sir?”

The stranger gave a curt nod. “My name is Silas Garrett. I'm with the McGraw Agency.”

If anyone had thought this would be a boring morning, those notions were quickly shut down. The McGraw Agency was a group based out of Osfro who investigated all sorts of matters for those who could pay well enough. Technically, they were an independent organization, but we all knew they had royal authority to enforce the law. Their agents were notoriously ruthless and determined in their missions, going to great lengths—covert or overt—to achieve their goals. They investigated everything from infidelity among minor nobles to espionage for the king. There had been rumors of them being active in the New World, but no one knew for what, or who had employed them.

Jasper strolled up beside his brother. “My goodness. We rarely entertain gentlemen of such standing. I don't suppose you're looking for a wife?”

Silas Garrett didn't crack a smile. “No, but I'm here looking for a woman.”

I don't know how I knew then, but suddenly, I just did. My whole body stiffened, and I felt Cedric's hand clasp mine under the table. I didn't dare look at him, but I understood the message:
Stay calm
.

“I'm here on undisclosed business of my own, but I have a colleague up in Archerwood who was hired last summer to investigate the possibility that a runaway noblewoman had fled here from Osfrid,” Silas explained. “He's had little luck—not surprising since Adoria's such a big place, and he had no real clues about which colony she might have gone to.”

“Understandable,” said Charles. “Forgive me, but what does that have to do with us?”

Silas glanced between Charles and Jasper with hard eyes. “Well, I was recently given a tip that the lady in question might very well be in Cape Triumph—and that your household might have information about her whereabouts.”

“Us?” asked Charles. “How in the world would we know anything about a missing woman?”

“A noblewoman,” corrected Silas. “Lady Witmore, Countess of Rothford.”

Cedric's hand tightened its grip.

“Countess . . .” Jasper's brow knitted into a frown. “You don't mean that business that stopped us in Osfro that night?”

“What night?” demanded Silas.

“Cedric and I were bringing a group of girls out last spring. They were stopping everyone at the city gates. We were searched and sent on our way.” Jasper glanced at his son. “You remember that, don't you?”

Cedric nodded, wearing the open expression of someone who was simply pleasantly curious. “I do. It was causing quite a stir. Why's it coming up again?”

“As I said, we received a tip that there might be some lead on the lady here in your household.” Silas glanced around those of us gathered at the table. “You have a great many girls here—the same age as Lady Witmore.”

Jasper's smile stiffened, but only a little. “Yes, we do. Just as we do every year. It's our business, Mister Garrett. We bring girls of marriageable age here from Osfrid. I can't help it if your countess is the same age.”

“How would you even expect to find her?” asked Charles. “Surely you aren't going to go blindly accusing my girls.”

“No, sir. I wouldn't dream of it. I'm merely following up on this lead and will send a letter to my colleague up north. All I know is that
the lady has brown hair. He has a small portrait.” Silas's manner was perfectly polite, but I saw his gaze linger briefly on every brown-haired girl at the table, including me. It was a relief that there were three others. “If he comes here, I'm sure he'll bring it to confirm her identity. Can you verify that all of these girls come from the places they say?”

“These girls are from common backgrounds,” said Jasper. “Illiterate laborers don't exactly keep extensive paperwork on their daughters. But I can tell you either my son or I saw the households each one came from. No countesses.”

“If we did have one,” quipped Cedric, “we could certainly charge a lot more.”

Silas turned his stare on Cedric, clearly not appreciating the joke. I could tell Cedric was going out of his way to be relaxed and affable, so as not to appear suspicious. But he would have been better off imitating his father and uncle, who were polite but both somewhat affronted.

“Mister Garrett,” said Jasper. “I respect what you do—I really do. But we already went through this in Osfro a year ago. I don't know what it is that causes the eye of suspicion to keep falling on us, but please, until you have something more concrete than a ‘tip,' I'd thank you to remember we're trying to run a respectable business.”

“Of course,” said Silas, turning toward the doorway. “I'll most certainly be back if I know more.”

“Before you go,” called Cedric. “I'm terribly curious about where you got this tip.”

“Anonymous,” said Silas. “Showed up late last night.”