Gentle Madness

Lady Lambroise had spoken. Whatever her foresight might have been, he had wanted to move quickly once his mind was made up — and now the chance had arrived. Waiting patiently was a virtue, of course, but still.

"Thank you, my lady."

And just like that, all his motivation evaporated.

So the world truly does refuse to bend to one's will.

It had been quite some time since the glory of House Elperts, once able to claim an entire city as its own, had withered. From a city to a single street, from a street to a single mansion, from a mansion to a mere title. And Cesare Elperts II, who could fairly be called the last Count of that fallen house—

"What an idiot."

—was, as far as memory served, a man who had never once owned anything of his own in his entire life, drifting from one noble household to the next, scavenging for a place to stay.

It was not a difficult arrangement, admittedly. There were spare rooms to spare, and since the servants were already retained, no noble household would find itself strained by one additional guest. The trouble was simply that the Count had raised Cesare II far too tenderly.

Perhaps that was precisely why he had never suffered so much as a single cold glance in his upbringing.

Noah could not remember the first time he had laid eyes on Cesare, but watching the grown man later, rage had surged through him at the thought that Kasika had been forced to flee because of a creature like this.

Cesare had been thrown out of his fifth noble house. He could never last more than a year in any single family. The moment some familiarity took root, Cesare Elperts would cross the line — and not in some sly, forgivable way, but with an idiotic remark so brazen that he would be expelled that very day.

Which was why Lambroise had never intended to take Cesare Elperts in from the start. His mother, Lady Lambroise, had at least suggested extending help on account of her old connection to Kasika — but Kasika no longer bore the name Elperts, only Lamplis. Had she remained within the Elperts household, it might have been a different matter; now that they shared no family, there was no reason for it.

And the reason Noah had gone out of his way to bring Cesare Elperts back anyway.

"So you're telling me you vouched for a stranger's identity, Count?"

"To be precise, it was identity laundering."

Noah said. A noble from a foreign country was, in the end, a person whose status could not be verified. Whether they were truly noble, or merely dressed up as one, no one could say. For such a person to secure lodging or reside long-term within the capital required official sanction.

Needless to say, the palace did not issue official permits for such trivial matters. Had the person been royalty, that would have been another story — but she was not. Still, nobles moved in the same circles, and nearly every one of them had relatives or acquaintances scattered across foreign courts; with an identity guarantee secured through someone they knew, a visitor could stay freely.

The Grimaldi name the woman carried was famous enough, but that family was markedly insular, with no kin to be found here. The reason she had been able to remain in this kingdom came down to one thing: Cesare Elperts had guaranteed her identity.

"In the end, it comes down to money," Nils said.

Yes — all of this had probably happened because of money. The sum that had flowed in, in exchange for a single signature offered to a homeless Cesare Elperts, had been considerable. But anything touching one's credit demanded the utmost caution.

"If someone walked up to me with that much money and offered it in exchange for a vouch of identity, I'd sign on the spot."

At Nils's remark, Bertram added, "But you're not a noble. With your guarantee, there's no disaster of this scale to cause."

"Must be nice being a noble, Baron Bertram Casnels."

Nils Chevalt, being the second son of a viscount, could inherit no title — he had grown up comfortably, but a wealthy gentryman was all he could ever be. Though once this affair was settled, he would likely receive a title of his own. Nothing grand, just a small non-hereditary one like Bertram's, but still.

"We should have heard the whole story in detail back then."

"You mean she possessed the crest that would serve as proof of Grimaldi blood?"

"Yes — apparently there was a brooch the Countess used to wear at official functions. It's missing now."

"Couldn't she simply have stolen it?"

"That possibility isn't off the table."

In the end, Cesare Elperts had been swindled.

"For such pocket change." Noah clicked his tongue.

"Well, that's because it's you, my lord. What could the Count's house possibly lack?"

"Cesare Elperts is a count."

"In title only."

"Blinded by money, of all things."

"It may not be money alone. The Count was isolated to begin with. Perhaps he was simply happy that anyone bothered to speak to him at all." At Bertram's words, Nils chimed in from the side — "Nope, it was the money." It was a sum even most nobles would have found hard to refuse. A sum the Count, for that matter, had squandered entirely.

In truth, it was doubtful the money had ever arrived at all. Might even that have been part of the fraud?

"Wouldn't it have been different if he'd had even one person willing to help? Like Lady Lamplis, say," Bertram said.

Nils remarked that she hardly seemed in any position to help either, but as Bertram saw it, the Lamplis household had no financial troubles. They weren't rich, but they carried no debt. What remained, if Lady Lamplis scrimped and saved with care, would last her a lifetime.

"On that much?"

Noah asked. Nils's and Bertram's gazes swung to him at once. It was an age in which, while some nobles spiraled into ruin, others accumulated wealth beyond all precedent — an age that could produce nobles said to be richer than the king itself.

"Back to business, then."

Nils said.

"How many more families are tangled up in this now?"

"Reports keep coming in, but we'll have to consolidate before we know the full count. The damage is worse than expected."

Bertram answered. Beside him, Nils grumbled about what on earth the victims had seen in the Count to make such an investment in the first place. Where, exactly, had any of it looked legitimate? But then, at the moment one falls for a swindle, the thought of suspicion never arrives. Quite literally — watching a man who had lived by begging door to door from one noble house to the next, penniless and ragged, suddenly dressed in fine clothes, residing in a respectable address, and living in plenty, would turn anyone's head.

"There is one optimistic reading available. If the Count's position is that he too was deceived—"

"Does the Count even have money for a lawyer right now?"

"True. This was a joint venture, plain and simple. The moment he guaranteed her identity, he was liable for whatever trouble she caused. That was the arrangement from the start."

"...Fair enough. But couldn't we wait until the Grimaldi connection is at least confirmed?"

"Both Dalkatir and Woodpecker are denying it's their Grimaldi as we speak."

"But unlike Dalkatir, the Woodpecker Grimaldis don't hide their family members — which makes Dalkatir the likelier culprit."

That much was reasonable. Their own people already considered Dalkatir the stronger possibility. But what if the two families were joining hands behind closed doors? A foreign noble could be properly interrogated by no one, nor compelled to confess anything.

"What happens if both sides deny it?"

"That's no longer our affair."

Bertram said, and Noah answered. But then he added, "In that case, they'll simply file for damages against both houses." Or negotiations would follow through diplomatic channels. Once an outcome was reached, the rest was work for those who operated in the daylight — men like Cay Lambroise. Though whether Cay would handle this matter directly, Noah could not say. If he did not, there was no particular need to offer him advice or aid. And truthfully, even if Cay did handle it directly, Noah had no particular intention of helping him.

One thing was certain either way: the last living drop of Elperts blood was now at his side. In the end, when all else failed, he would have to make use of her. That was why he had brought her here in the first place.

The problem was that he could not quite bring himself to do it.

Just as Noah drew a deep breath, a small bird landed on the windowsill. It tilted its head from side to side before the glass, then pecked at the pane with its beak, and Bertram rose to open the window.

Information had arrived from somewhere again. At times, using animals like this proved more useful than dealing with people — above all, with a magician in the loop, the risk of intercepted intelligence dwindled to almost nothing. Bertram's fingertip touched the bird's beak, then drew away.

"What? What is it?"

Nils asked. He happened to be waiting on a piece of information he'd requested, and he'd assumed this was it. But Bertram's gaze turned to Noah.

"My lord."

"What?"

Noah answered without so much as lifting his eyes.

"Word is that a certain lady is going to be fitted for dresses with Miss Gamov?"

"Which lady? My mother?"

Why anyone would bother sending that by carrier bird as if it were vital intelligence, Noah thought, keeping his expression one of perfect disinterest — until Bertram said, "No, Lady Lamplis." The hand shuffling through documents stopped dead. His gaze swung to Bertram at once — or rather, to the bird.

"With whom, and doing what?"

The bird, naturally, offered no reply. It merely cocked its head and rubbed its head against Bertram's finger, and the sight of Noah Lambroise glaring daggers at the creature was rather comic.

"With Elena Gamov?"

There was no need to hear Nils's remark that Gamov could only mean Elena Gamov. When Noah asked, "When?" Bertram answered, "Tomorrow."

Noah fell silent. No — why, in the world? He had distinctly promised to send her fabric. Had it not arrived? And she was going out to be fitted? Not having the fitting done at home? If the fitting were done at home, there would be no need for company in the first place. The conclusion assembled itself in his mind.

"I'm not coming in to work tomorrow."

Noah said.

"What are you talking about?"

"I said I'm not coming in tomorrow. Finish everything by tonight."

"We have a schedule tomorrow, my lord? We've been working on this for weeks!"

"So the ladies are going out to be fitted for dresses, and you're planning to accompany them?"