An Arranged Meeting at the Gala

Davion answered nothing, letting his heavy eyelids sink shut and lift again. Then he took a step back and introduced Julian.

"Lady Esmerilda, this is Major Julian Redwick. He tells me he has been your admirer for many years."

Julian was tugging his coat straight and hastily smoothing down his hair.

"Oh my, what an extraordinary honor. Had I known, I would have brought my fountain pen with me..."

Esmerilda answered with a show of regret, then drew a lipstick from her handbag and touched up her mouth. She pressed her lips against the white handkerchief she always carried, folded it into a neat little square, and tucked it into Julian's coat pocket — not forgetting to wink as she did so.

"Let's take a photograph together before you leave, Major Redwick."

For a moment, Julian forgot his soldier's bearing entirely and grinned like a fool.

In a recent official interview, Esmerilda had asked the public to treat her as though nothing had happened when she appeared in society, even though she had lost her husband not long before. She played the part so naturally that some people managed to forget her husband had died at all.

Davion exchanged a discreet glance with Liam, then followed Esmerilda into the house.

Tucking her lipstick back into her handbag, Esmerilda waited for him at the top of the stairs.

"My, my. The Count himself, seeing me in personally?"

"Liam will receive the other guests in my place. There is something I wish to discuss with you privately."

They kept walking, careful to avoid drawing suspicion, and as Davion greeted the guests drifting through the corridor, he spoke first.

"My mother intends to arrange a matchmaking meeting between the two of us."

At his words, Esmerilda didn't so much as blink. If anything, she gave a short, scornful little laugh, as though she had guessed it all along.

"That's hardly surprising. It almost feels as though we've both been returned to our bachelor days."

"Set aside some time. We should meet a few times, on our own."

Then the amusement vanished from Esmerilda's face in an instant.

She looked flustered, as though doubting her own ears, and scowled openly at Davion, who had been walking along with his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"You truly intend to marry me?"

"Do you happen to have a lover?"

"No, it's not that... It's only, I honestly thought you couldn't forget your wife."

When Davion's steps slowed, she gently pressed him onward.

"Keep walking. People are staring."

A long silence stretched between them until the banquet hall came into view. As if they had agreed on it beforehand, both of them were thinking of the same person.

Esmerilda had known Cecilia even before Davion married her. They had never been close enough for real conversation... and yet it hurt.

"She was a truly lovely woman. I sincerely regret that it came to this."

"No. I, too, must prepare to leave my mourning behind."

Composing his expression, Davion added an explanation.

"I have no desire to marry you, either. But as you know, my mother worries a great deal about me. I thought that if I at least arranged these meetings, it would set her mind at ease."

"Since you put it that way... I'll play along with you, Count. And there she is now, as it happens."

The moment they entered the banquet hall, Esmerilda tipped her chin toward the window.

There stood Blake Thistledown, deep in animated conversation with a cluster of guests. Befitting one of the event's hostesses, she was dressed just as splendidly as Esmerilda herself.

The elegant creases of Blake's face gleamed all the more strikingly above her wine-colored mermaid gown. Catching sight of the couple entering the hall, she flashed a bewitching smile.

Before going to greet his mother, Davion did not forget to thank Esmerilda.

"Thank you, Esmerilda."

"Think nothing of it. We must all help one another get by."

Blake excused herself from the guests she had been chatting with and went straight to welcome Esmerilda.

"Well, if it isn't Lady Esmerilda!"

"Duchess Thistledown."

They exchanged light kisses on the cheek.

"You must be so busy — thank you ever so much for coming."

"Not at all. You know how fond I am of events like this. It's all quite magnificent, isn't it? I have a fitting for tomorrow's performance costume, though. I may have eaten far too much for it to fit."

When Esmerilda winked with practiced charm, Blake covered her mouth and laughed. Davion, who had been doing his utmost to stay out of the conversation behind Esmerilda, found himself drawn forward by his mother's hand and reluctantly met her eyes.

"Oh, that reminds me — the Count mentioned he wanted to see this performance, so I intend to arrange seats for him. Will you be joining us as well, Duchess?"

After shooting a look at her timid son, Blake softened back into a gracious smile.

"How kind. But what am I to do? Age must be catching up with me — my back aches if I sit in one place too long."

"My mother says the same. And to think she is still as beautiful as this — time is truly cruel."

"Time is the most fearsome thing of all. Ah, what with that girl bewitching our son and giving me no end of heartache, I sometimes feel I've aged terribly of late."

For a moment, Esmerilda faltered and stole a glance at Davion, but she laughed it off with practiced ease and escaped the moment unscathed.

So that she might greet the other guests, Blake did not hold Esmerilda for long. By then, Davion was quietly sipping at the wine he had taken from a passing waiter.

Blake plucked the wineglass from her son, who seemed determined not to meet her eyes at any cost, jabbed a finger into his chest, and said,

"Well done. A face like that, a family like ours — what does it matter that she was a widow? You must win her. She's the woman who'll pin a crown to your chest."

From the rank of Major upward, the epaulets worn at the chest bore an engraved royal crown.

"Mother."

Davion stopped Blake as she moved off to receive the other guests in the hall.

"Never again, in front of others, speak of Cecilia in such a way."

Blake studied his face for a long moment beneath the brilliant chandelier light, then smiled coldly.

"Very well. Goodness — I'm so frightened of my own son I can't say a word."

"And it wasn't Cecilia. From the very beginning, I was the one who set out to seduce her. I was already sharing her bed long before any meeting with Esmerilda was arranged. I climbed into her bed of my own volition, naturally."

"Davion Thistledown Winterhall."

It was an answer more terrifying than a hundred words. A chill silence settled over Blake's face, which had flushed with fury.

With both hands buried in his pockets, Davion drove in one final blade before he left.

"Out of respect for your efforts, Mother, I will meet with Esmerilda. But that is not to say I will marry her."

"You dare—!"

"So don't get your hopes up."

He deliberately did not stay to see how Blake reacted.

Julian and his fellow academy classmates were smoking in a corner of the banquet hall, all of them utterly absorbed in the handkerchief Julian kept bragging about, and so none of them noticed where Davion was headed.

The hall was vast and packed with people, and even finding a single man took a considerable length of time.

An elderly gentleman of fine bearing, back still ramrod straight despite his years, was making his way from table to table, nibbling at the hors d'oeuvres.

Thank goodness. I couldn't find him anywhere, and I'd been dreading that perhaps this year he hadn't come at all. Letting out a breath of relief, Davion scanned his surroundings and quietly saluted the old man.

"Colonel Hamilton."

Ben Hamilton, Warden of Coltbridge Prison.

Though a wound had forced him into retirement ten years ago, the soldiers all addressed him as Colonel as a matter of military courtesy.

Colonel Hamilton had also been the closest of comrades to the late Duke of Thistledown — Davion's father. Perhaps for that very reason, he knew every one of the Thistledown ducal house's oldest secrets down to the finest detail.

"Well, if it isn't Captain Winterhall!"

The Colonel greeted him warmly and gave Davion a brief embrace.

"Come to ask about your brother again?"

"I realized I hadn't paid my respects earlier, so I came to greet you properly."

"No need to stand on ceremony, my boy. Have we known each other a day or two?"

The Colonel's speech was already slightly slurred. Only then did Davion relax and lower his voice.

"Sir, has my brother gotten into some trouble at the prison? After my wife's death, I wrote to the Coltbridge office requesting permission for a condolence visit, but no reply ever came. I began to wonder whether he'd been confined to solitary..."

"Ah, it's nothing of the sort. I granted the permission myself, but young Theodore flatly refused to attend the service. When I pressed him for a reason, he said he had no wish to see his mother. A fitting answer from the Rake of Thistledown, wouldn't you say?"