The Glittering Court (5 page)

“. . . knew it was too good to be true,” Jasper was saying. “You had two chances. Two chances, and you blew them both.”

“You don't think you're being a little extreme?” asked Cedric. His tone was light, laconic even, but I could sense the tension underneath it.

“Did you hear the mouth on that girl?” Jasper exclaimed. “Atrocious.”

“Not really. She was quite polite about it all. No improper language.” Cedric hesitated. “And her grammar and diction are quite excellent.”

“It's not the language so much as the attitude. She's bold and impertinent. The men in Adoria don't want shrews for wives. They want mild, compliant young woman.”

“Not too mild if they're going to survive in Adoria,” Cedric said. “And she was defending Mira. I thought it was noble.” Well, that answered one question. They'd heard the whole exchange after all.

Jasper sighed. “Oh, yes. Defending the Sirminican—that justifies it all.
That
one's going to have to get used to being put down. Clara's not going to be the only one to do it.”

“I don't think Mira's the type who will ever ‘get used to' being put down,” said Cedric. I thought about the dark glitter of her eyes and was inclined to agree with him.

“Be that as it may, you've thrown away both commissions. You'll be lucky to get anything for them in Adoria—unless you can get Adelaide to close her mouth long enough for us to marry her off. She's pretty enough to snare some fool. The Sirminican is too,” Jasper
added, almost grudgingly. “There's nothing wrong with your eyes, I'll give you that. It's the rest of you I don't know about. Letting you procure this year was a bad idea. You should've stayed here with your classes. Maybe a few more years would have taught you some sense.”

“What's done is done,” said Cedric.

“I suppose so. Well, I have to finish up some paperwork, and then I'll meet you at the carriage. We need to check on Swan Ridge.”

I heard the sounds of Jasper's footsteps departing and waited for Cedric to do the same. Instead, he moved forward, coming into my view as he looked at the same painting I'd admired before. I froze where I was, praying he wouldn't look off to his side. After several moments, he sighed and turned to follow his father. And as he did, he caught sight of me in his periphery. Before I could draw another breath, he darted into my little alcove, trapping me between him and the wall.

“You! What in Ozhiel's name have you done?” he hissed, pitching his voice low. “What are you doing here?”

“Um, getting ready to be part of the new nobility.”

“I'm serious! Where's Ada?” he demanded.

“Long gone,” I said, with a shrug. “Guess you're stuck with me. Besides, I thought you wanted to see me again?”

“When I said that, I meant that I wanted—” He stopped that thought, looking only briefly flustered as countless unvoiced possibilities lingered tantalizingly in the air between us. His composure was back in moments. “My lady, this isn't a game. You have no business here! I was supposed to get Ada.”

“And I'm telling you, she's long gone. I gave her some money and sent her on her way. She'll be happily milking cows in no time.” My words were bold—impertinent, as Jasper would no doubt say—but inside, I was panicked. Cedric had covered for me in Osfro, but this wasn't over yet. “I helped you by coming here. Ada would've probably bolted on her own. Wouldn't you have gotten in trouble for showing up short a girl?”

“Do you know how much trouble I'll get in for smuggling away a countess? They'll imprison me! Presuming your husband-to-be doesn't just kill me himself.” Seeing my surprise, he said, “Yes, I know about your engagement, my lady. I read the society papers.”

“Then you should know you're in no real danger from Lionel. He's not the violent type—unless you're an itch.”

“Do you think my future's a joke? Is all of this a joke to you?”

I met his gaze, looking unblinkingly into those gray-blue eyes. “Actually, this is anything but a joke. This is my future too. My chance to be free and make my own choices.”

He shook his head. “You don't realize what you've done—what you may have cost me. I have so much depending on this, more than you can know.”

“I haven't cost you anything. Help me with this—don't betray me, and I'll owe you a favor.” I caught hold of his sleeve. “Haven't you ever known something in your heart, known you needed to do something or be somewhere? That's how this is for me. I
need
to do this. Help me, and I swear, I'll make it up to you some day.”

A fleeting smile played over his lips. “The Countess of Rothford could have done a lot more for me than a simple girl bound for Adoria.”

“You'd be surprised. The Countess of Rothford couldn't do much for herself, let alone anyone else.” I looked up at him through my lashes. “And don't assume I'm simple.”

He made no response and instead studied me for a long time. We were in very close quarters, which gave that scrutiny a disconcertingly intimate feel. “This will be harder than you think,” he said at last.

“I doubt it,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “All those things you're teaching the other girls? I already know them. I could teach classes in this place.”

“Yes. That's exactly the problem. You know too much. Your manners, your diction—even your hair.”

“I wish everyone would stop talking about my hair,” I muttered.

“You stand out, my lady. This is a world you don't understand—where
you can't wield the privilege you've known. Where your title won't get you access or even let you be taken seriously in some places. And there are plenty of things the other girls know that you don't. Can you start a fire in the hearth? Can you even dress yourself?”

“I put this on myself,” I told him. “I mean, the buttons took a little figuring out, but I eventually did it.”

He looked like he was on the verge of rolling his eyes. “My lady, you have no idea what—”

“Adelaide,” I corrected. “If we're going to pull this off, you must call me that. No more titles.”

“Well, then,
Adelaide
, let me give you some advice. Don't be too good at anything—you don't want to attract extra attention. Think twice before you correct someone, even if it's Clara.” His tone as he said her name made me think he hadn't actually minded my putting her in her place. “And above all, watch the other girls. Watch their mannerisms. Listen to the way they talk. Every little detail. One slip, and both our lives will be ruined. You'll give yourself away in ways you don't even realize.”

At those words, I had a sudden flash of how I'd already messed up in the last twenty-four hours. The carriage door. The tart. The cosmetics lecture. And yes, the hair.

You'll give yourself away in ways you don't even realize.

“I won't,” I said fiercely. “I'll do this—you'll see. I'll do all the right things. I'll get a dozen Adorian offers and land you the biggest commission of them all.”

“No—don't stand out.” He paused, and a hint of that earlier flirty smile resurfaced. “Well, as much as you can help it.”

“You said you've got a lot depending on this. What is there? More than the commission?”

He grew sober again. “Nothing for you to worry about. Just get to Adoria without being discovered, and we both might survive this.” He glanced around. “We need to go. We're going to be missed.”

I thought about the harsh way Jasper had spoken to him, the way
he'd dismissed Cedric's efforts. A wise part of me knew better than to comment on that. Instead I asked, “Any other words of wisdom before you leave?”

He turned back, looking me over in that way that felt oddly personal. But it didn't unsettle me as much this time. Neither did our proximity. “Yes,” he said. He reached forward and wound one of my curls around his fingers, inadvertently brushing my cheek in the process. “Do something about this hair. Mess it up. Tie it back. Anything to make you a little more disheveled and less like you're being presented at court.”

I lifted my chin. “First, this isn't a court style—which you'd know, if you'd spent any time with the
old
nobility. And second, I can mess up as many etiquette lessons as you like . . . but disheveled? I don't know if I can do that.”

The smile returned, warmer and wider than before. “Somehow, I'm not surprised.” He sketched me a bow, almost a caricature of the one he'd given at our first meeting. “Until next time, my—Adelaide.”

He turned and, after a quick check around the corner, walked back down the great hall. I waited an appropriate amount of time and did the same. I'd hoped to catch a glimpse of him, but he was already out of sight. It was just as well. Putting him from my mind, I climbed the staircase up to my new life in the Glittering Court.

Chapter 5

I returned to my room, not entirely sure what to expect. I was still shaking from the encounter with Cedric, how close I'd been to everything falling apart around me. Taking a deep breath, I threw my shoulders back and pushed the door open.

Calm and silence met me. My two roommates were each sitting on their respective beds. Mira's knees were drawn up to her, creating a makeshift desk as she read a battered book. Tamsin sat cross-legged, furiously writing what looked like a letter. Seeing me, she quickly folded the paper up. I didn't know if it was coincidence or not, but the beds they'd chosen were opposite each other in the room.

“I hope you don't mind the bed by the window,” Mira said. “Tamsin was worried it'd be bad for her complexion.”

Tamsin lightly touched her cheek. “You have no idea what sunlight can do to freckles. But that doesn't matter right now. What happened downstairs? They didn't kick you out, did they?”

I sat down on the edge of the bed between theirs, the one that agitated freckles. “Not yet.” I nearly said that Mistress Masterson hadn't chastised me at all but then thought better of it, lest I have to explain what I'd really been doing. “Just a, uh, stern talking-to.”

“Well, you're lucky,” said Tamsin. “But this kind of changes everything. I'm not sure what to do about you now.”

It took me a moment to follow. “Are you chastising me too?”

“No. I mean, yes. I don't know. But I'm not sure if being associated with two troublemakers is going to help me around here.”

Mira looked startled. “What did I do?”

“Nothing yet.” Tamsin
almost
seemed chagrined. “But you saw how it was down there after just five minutes. People like Clara aren't going to let up on you.”

“So you want to be associated with someone like Clara?” I asked.

“Hell no. But I've got to plan my strategy here. I can't fail.” There was the slightest tremor in her voice at that last part—vulnerability, more than arrogance. Mira caught it too.

“You won't fail,” she said kindly. “Just keep up with everything. Cedric said as long as we score in a passing range, we're guaranteed to go to Adoria.” Her use of his first name, with no honorific, wasn't lost on me.

“I have to do more than just pass.” Tamsin glanced down at the folded paper in her hands and then looked up with renewed determination. Her other fist clenched beside her. “I have to be the best. The best in our manor. The best in all the other manors. And I have to do whatever it takes to make the best marriage in Adoria—the wealthiest man I can find, one who'll do anything for me. If that means being cutthroat here? So be it.”

“Who needs cutthroat when you've got me? If you want to be on top, then I'm your best bet. I already know half of all this from being in a grand lady's house. Stick with me, and you're guaranteed to succeed. Stick with both of us,” I added, with a glance at Mira.

I still knew nothing about her, but that sense of connection remained. I didn't know much about Tamsin either, aside from her willingness to become “cutthroat”—which didn't exactly come as a surprise after our brief acquaintance. But Cedric's words were weighing on me, about how important it was that I not screw up and give myself away. I was more likely to pull that off if I had backup.

Were these two the best backup I might have chosen? Unclear. But as my roommates for the next year, they were the best candidates.

“You're probably not the only one thinking this place is cutthroat,” I continued. My persuasive skills hadn't exactly been top-notch
recently, but after winning Cedric to my side, I was starting to feel confident again. “So you know the others are going to be ruthless— especially if you are the best.”

“There's no ‘if,'” said Tamsin.

“Right. Well, then, someone like Clara's going to target you for sure. And you know she'll surround herself in cronies too. She'll have eyes and ears everywhere—you'd better have them too. Who knows if she'll stoop to sabotage? And you might think I'm a troublemaker, but I'm also a troublemaker who knows the difference between
sec
,
demi-sec
, and
doux
wine.”

“Demi-what?” asked Tamsin.

I crossed my arms over my chest, triumphant. “Exactly.”

“So you've got the insider information. I'm obviously the leader.” Tamsin's eyes fell on Mira. “What do
you
have to offer?”

When Mira simply met her gaze unblinkingly, I supplied, “Well, she apparently survived a war zone. I somehow doubt this is going to be harder.”

Tamsin looked as though she was trying to decide about that. Before the conversation could continue, a knock sounded at the door. Mistress Masterson entered with clothing slung over one arm. “Here are some day dresses for you to wear today. We can make adjustments later. Put them on, wash your faces, and be downstairs in fifteen minutes.” Her eyes fell on me. “And Adelaide, I expect there will be no more outbursts from you of such a . . . candid nature. The Thorns employ me to make you into exemplary young ladies. I don't need that undermined within your first hour.”

“Yes, of course.” She looked at me expectantly, and I added, “Ma'am.” When that still didn't lift her gaze, I tried “Uh, I'm sorry?” I had rarely had to apologize in my position and wasn't entirely sure of the process.

Looking exasperated, Mistress Masterson draped the dresses and chemises over a chair. “Please just think before you speak next time.”

That I understood. It was advice my grandmother had been giving me for years.

When Mistress Masterson was gone, Tamsin pounced on the dresses and began examining each one. Mira, however, studied me. “I thought you said she already scolded you?”

I put on a wry smile. “I guess she wanted to make sure I got the message. Or embarrass me in front of you.”

A groan from Tamsin drew our attention elsewhere. “Damn it. This is too long.”

She was holding a cream-colored dress, scattered with green flowers, up to her. I got up and sifted through the rest of the clothes. “Wear this one. It's shorter.”

Tamsin gave the russet calico a dismissive look. “That's not my color. I'd think any sort of proper lady's maid would know orange doesn't go with red hair.”

“I know that wearing a dress that doesn't fit you will look a lot worse. Sloppy, even.”

Tamsin wavered a moment and then snatched the dress from me, tossing back the green in return. It was too long for me too, and I handed it to Mira, the tallest of us. That left me with a gray-striped dress of lightweight wool. As the others began to undress, I backed up, suddenly feeling self-conscious. It was silly, I supposed, considering I'd had people dressing me my entire life. But that had been utilitarian. It was my servants' job. Changing clothes now, with others around, was a reminder of the new lack of privacy I had. The room suddenly felt small, like it was closing in around me.

I turned my back to them and began working through all those buttons that had given me such trouble before. It was slightly easier than initially fastening them up, but the loops they went through were sewn under the edge of the fabric, requiring some dexterity. And good grief, why did there have to be so many of them? When I finally made it to the bottom of the dress, I glanced behind me and saw Tamsin and Mira staring in astonishment. Both were already in their new chemises and dresses.

“Our best bet, huh?” asked Tamsin.

“It's harder than it looks,” I retorted. “A new style. One I'm not used to.” I turned away from them again and at least managed to wriggle out of it in a timelier manner than the unbuttoning. Ada's chemise was of better quality than this new one, but I removed it too and put on the whole ensemble.

“Are these dresses torn?” asked Mira, studying one of her sleeves.

It was clear neither girl had ever worn a chemise as anything other than a basic undergarment. In fact, I was pretty sure Mira hadn't had one on at all. These new dresses were the same style of many I'd worn before—albeit mine had been more expensive materials—where the chemise was meant to be displayed as part of the dress. I knew how it was supposed to look but wasn't entirely sure of how to implement it. I did my best to explain it, and after a fair amount of tugging and straightening, we all finally managed to look fashionable. The delicate white fabric of my chemise was pulled and puffed out through slashes in the overdress's arms, creating a color contrast. Lace from the chemise's neckline peeped out around my bodice.

All of our extra maneuvering had taken time, and we were the last ones to arrive downstairs. We weren't exactly late, but Mistress Masterson's sharp eyes told us we shouldn't have cut it so close. Then, taking in our appearance, her expression turned approving. “You three have styled those chemises very nicely. I've been trying to teach the others all week, but they just keep bunching up the fabric.”

I gave Mistress Masterson my sweetest smile. “Thank you, ma'am. We're happy to help the other girls if they keep having trouble. I see Clara's is
really
bunched up in the back. I can help her out after today's lessons.” Clara shot me a murderous look, and I noticed much of her makeup had been scrubbed.

“That's very kind of you,” said Mistress Masterson. “And such a refreshing attitude. Most girls come here being so . . . cutthroat. Mira, is there something wrong?”

Mira had a hand to her mouth, trying to cover her laugh. “No, ma'am. Just a cough.”

Mistress Masterson gave her a wary glance and then beckoned for us all to follow her to the conservatory. Mira and Tamsin fell into step with me, one on either side.

“That was excessive,” said Tamsin. But she too was smiling—and this time, there was no show or calculation.

I smiled back. “Best. Bet.”

And so my life as a commoner began, the days flying by faster than I expected.

Cedric didn't need to worry about my hair giving me away. I'd never styled it on my own in my life, and after its first washing at Blue Spring, there was no way I could have ever replicated what I'd come in with that first day. No one demanded that level of detail on a regular basis, and mostly we were expected to pull our hair back neatly into buns or braids. I wasn't very good at that either. Disheveled became part of my daily life.

And Cedric was right about the other things. Although we were being trained to fit into the upper classes, freeing the girls from many of the labors they'd grown up with, there were still a lot of skills taken for granted that I couldn't perform. I did what he'd advised, watching the other girls avidly and imitating them as best as I could. I succeeded with varying degrees of luck.

“Don't mix it!” Tamsin exclaimed. She darted across the kitchen, jerking a spoon from my hand.

It was a month into our stay at Blue Spring, and we'd fallen into a regular routine of classes and activities. I pointed at the open cookbook on the counter. “It says to break the butter into the flour.”

“That's not the same as mixing. This thing'll be as dense as some tosser's skull.”

I shrugged, not understanding, and she nudged me aside to take over. Culinary skills weren't something I'd expected to learn here. The hope was that most of us would have servants or at least a house
cook to prepare meals in Adoria. But the mistress of a large household was still expected to oversee what was being cooked, and that meant instructing us in the preparation of finer food. The dishes we made here were beyond what most of the girls had ever dined on, but a lot of the basic principles were still familiar to my housemates. Me? I'd never cooked a thing, nor had I had to supervise anything. I'd had servants to supervise my other servants.

I watched as Tamsin deftly chopped up the butter and put it into the flour in pieces. “Let me try,” I offered.

“No, you'll just mess it up. We all still remember what happened when you ‘blanched' the asparagus.”

“Look, ‘bleached' and ‘blanched' sound very similar,” I said through gritted teeth.

Tamsin shook her head. “I just don't want to screw up our first cooking test, especially after Clara's group got such good marks yesterday. Go measure the currants. Mira, can you warm the cream instead?”

Mira slid the bowl of currants over, exchanging an amused glance with me. My roommates and I had also fallen into comfortable roles, not to mention a growing closeness. Despite Tamsin's initial proclamations, I ended up being looked to as the unofficial leader—though we still usually let her dictate our actions. It was easier than going against her. We all wanted to succeed here, but her undisguised ambition and razor-sharp focus kept Mira and me working at a pace we might otherwise have missed. It was useful having her on my side, but her scrutiny made me nervous sometimes. She rarely missed anything.