Too Slow to Notice

She went straight to find John and Hannah the moment she returned to the mansion.

"Hannah!"

"Oh—Lady Siena!"

When she threw open the door to the secretaries' office without so much as a knock, the staff, sprawled about haphazardly over their work, scrambled to their feet and fumbled their arms into suit jackets. She thought she even heard a strangled yelp of alarm somewhere among them.

Siena stopped at the threshold and waved a hand at the sight.

"Never mind, stay where you are. Just John and Hannah, up to my office."

Apparently, the secretaries' office was a place best avoided unless absolutely necessary.

Whether it was the aftermath of yesterday's party or simply the product of overwork, the room's overall atmosphere was a far cry from comfortable.

"Our apologies, we'll be right up."

Closing the door behind her, Siena turned immediately toward her office.

"Lady Siena!"

From somewhere out of nowhere, Ebony popped out at the far end of the corridor.

"Hello, Ebony."

Ebony's eyes lit up and she reached for the envelope, but Siena pulled her hand back and stopped her.

"No, don't worry about this one."

"Was your outing pleasant? Did you get any shopping done?"

Oh—dropping her outstretched hand at once, Ebony launched into a ceaseless chatter: how had the outing gone, had she tried on the formal wear, was there anything she wanted for dinner?

Siena weathered the barrage of questions with an indulgent face.

"Ebony, come back in an hour. I might have time to answer all of that then."

"Are you finding me a nuisance, my lady? I'll leave your change of clothes in the dressing room—rest and change whenever it suits you. And do you truly mean it, one whole hour?"

She grumbled and sulked, but Siena soothed her with light reassurance.

Hannah pointed out every single time that she let the girl grow far too familiar with her, but there was no maid alive more transparent or more fiercely loyal than Ebony.

"Yes, fine. Send coffee and refreshments down to the secretaries' office. And has Blair returned to the mansion? I sent her out on an errand this morning."

"The housekeeper? She returned about two hours ago, my lady."

"Tell her I'd like her to take special care with cleaning the secretaries' office. The wardrobe upkeep as well."

Ebony tilted her head at that, then bowed crisply and vanished out the door.

She had just set the envelope on the desk and settled into her chair to catch her breath when a knock came at the door.

"Come in."

"Pardon the interruption."

Hannah and John, heads bowed at the threshold, walked together to the desk.

Hannah's gaze touched briefly on the envelope before slipping away.

"The final list of investors who received invitations."

Siena's eyes swept quickly down the list.

"Nineteen. Everyone's back in except the two who dropped out right before the vote."

"Yes. Countess Hughes's side has also reached out to renew discussions, however—"

"Forget it. Leave her out."

The treasury had grown comfortably full thanks to someone, after all; there was no worry about capital for the time being. Nor was there any particular need to extend grace to a defector.

At her firm answer, Hannah nodded and drew a single line through the name.

That was when Siena's gaze caught the name at the very top of the list.

House Marcel.

The Claude she had run into earlier floated to mind.

"Did the Marcel side send a reply?"

"They conveyed their intent to participate in writing. As for the terms of investment, they've delegated full authority to you—but the reply states that attendance at the banquet will be difficult."

Siena tapped the corner of the list with her fingertip.

He's not coming? Why?

Hadn't he made that grand spectacle of deciding to invest, all for the sake of showing her something?

He'd gone so far as to send a formal statement that very day and thrown the parliament hall into an uproar—and now he wouldn't deign to appear in an official setting?

What on earth was the man playing at?

Setting the list down on the desk, Siena reached for the envelope.

"Just reconfirm the banquet seating. The Marcel seat—"

She paused for a breath and continued as she slid her hand into the envelope. A crisp rustle sounded at once.

"Don't leave it empty. Fill it in. There's no need to invite anyone to read meaning into a single vacant chair."

The banquet was a success.

The grand banquet hall at the Victe county's main residence blazed with light for the first time in ages.

Along the long table where the investors of nineteen houses and merchant companies had gathered lay dishes prepared with the utmost care, and Siena, seated at the head, wore the mask she had honed yet again today and held the room in her palm.

"The maiden voyage is scheduled for next quarter. Maintenance is proceeding on schedule. Thanks to your resolve, the first seed of this sea route has been able to take root."

Glass raised, Siena surveyed the room with elegant grace.

From the prospects of the venture to the projected returns and the plans for future expansion, she explained everything with practiced fluency, calling on her secretaries as needed to produce and verify the relevant documents.

Not a single crack showed in any of it.

"I'll put my trust in Representative Victe alone. Ha ha."

"Honestly, I had my worries before the vote, but hearing your explanation and verifying everything myself, I'm thoroughly reassured."

Satisfied laughter and good wishes flowed freely around the banquet hall. The young Acting Count they had doubted could properly steer the enterprise had vanished without a trace—in their eyes, Siena was flawless.

"Now, shall we raise our glasses together?"

At her suggestion, the assembled nobles raised a clamorous toast in unison.

As the evening ripened, the investors began drifting from seat to seat, pausing to rest or trade conversation.

Siena, as host, moved busily among them, playing conversationalist, pacing their rest, and explaining the business over and over.

Exhausting.

She was perhaps six groups into the rotation when her body swayed slightly as she walked down the corridor behind the hall.

Her hand shot out to the wall on reflex, and somehow time seemed to be flowing sluggishly. It was only when her head dropped toward the floor that she understood.

"...I'm drunk."

Pressing a hand to her forehead, she let out a short, rueful laugh and stood frozen for a moment.

Moving from group to group, accepting a glass at each stop—she had long since passed her limit without realizing it. Cursing herself for not noticing sooner, she let out a long groan.

"And what if I'd made a mistake, reckless woman that I am."

Murmuring in a voice laced with self-mockery, she lifted her head and looked out the window.

Night was deepening over the Imperial Capital. The tender freshness of early summer had gone somewhere, and the night carried the sweltering heat of midsummer instead.

"Full moon tonight."

The round moon seemed lodged in her eyes for some reason. The moon had been bright that day, too. The day she first received Count Lumos's invitation and visited the club.

"Why on earth did he... show up that day?"

She had looked into it separately afterward, and found nothing unusual.

Aside from word that all of Claude's close friends had greeted him warmly, he had kept company with no one in particular; she'd only heard that he left around the same time she returned to the mansion.

Ah—come to think of it, she'd heard that just as word spread that she would be visiting at Count Lumos's invitation, that man had announced his own visit too.

"He wasn't really coming to see me, was he?"

Whether it was the drink or not, the thought kept pushing its way out of her mouth.

"It really was strange. That's not like him at all."

The face of Claude Marcel, the man who had spoken to her, kept flickering before her eyes. That face, politely offering her a chair as she hitched up her skirt hem.

What was with that grave expression of his, anyway? It was absurd. A man confronted with a lady's bare legs ought to have at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

And that encounter mere days ago—what of it? He hadn't so much as blinked at the sight of her mouth smeared white with sugar.

"He shows up in exactly the places I'd rather not run into him, and skips the very occasions where he was asked to come."

Pff. Bursting into derisive laughter, she hauled herself slowly upright again.

"Hilarious. Truly."

A snort here, a giggle there—laughter kept leaking out of her for no reason she could name. It was not a bad night, with the tipsy haze sitting pleasantly in her head.

Siena was smoothing her flushed cheeks as she stepped into her room.

"Who left the window open...?"

The rush of air that hit her the moment she crossed the threshold drew a frown.

She never aired the room except in the morning—she couldn't stand the summer night's humidity. And it was long past midnight, at that.

Staring at the window almost accusingly, Siena let out a long sigh and steadied her swaying body.

Should close it, at least.

Whether Ebony had forgotten or she herself had, hardly mattered.

Dragging her strength-drained body along, she made her way to the window.

And then, in the careless sweep of her gaze, a white envelope snagged her attention.

Beneath the open window frame—an envelope from nowhere. Her heart plummeted.

The texture of the envelope she snatched up in haste was familiar. The same paper she had held in Gaverum.

BANG!

Siena slammed the window shut and exhaled a ragged breath. Her lips had gone bone dry.

Here? How?

Far too many people had been in and out of the mansion today. Not just the nineteen investors, but their families and retinues besides.

From early morning, every manner of person had passed through the grounds to finish preparations for the banquet and the upkeep of the annex.

He had slipped in under the cover of all that commotion, the wretch.

Pressing her cracking lips together, she tore the envelope open.

As she read the message, the fingertips holding the paper turned cold as ice.