An Unexpected Offer

"In Lady Campbell's case, it's even easier. A marriage interview is all about how well you can 'impress' each other, after all... and frankly, House Campbell has nothing impressive to offer in the first place."

At Lucas's mild voice, Enya let out a wry laugh.

She knew the state of her family's finances and dignity better than anyone, and that was precisely why hearing such a scathing assessment from someone else's mouth struck her as funny. It didn't wound her, of course. Her father's situation—clinging to his title at the edge of a cliff—was not of her own making, and there was nothing to be ashamed of in it.

"I imagine whoever shows up to the interview will be well aware of that, too."

Lucas shook his head at her casual remark.

"No, I'd wager Count Campbell made something out of nothing, quite cleverly. Perhaps nothing exists right now, but there are certain advantages that will come after the marriage... In other words, he's selling the future."

"The future..."

"Failing that, you twist things just slightly so that some scrap of information becomes 'plausible.' All Lady Campbell has to do is demonstrate that the future—or the convincing illusion of one—doesn't actually exist. Simple, isn't it?"

Simple?

Enya couldn't answer readily, a troubled look crossing her face. She followed the broad strokes well enough, but without knowing exactly what sort of "something" her father had conjured out of thin air, the whole thing felt uncomfortably vague.

It didn't help that she had never attended a proper marriage interview in her life.

Watching her flounder for a mental foothold, Lucas opened his mouth again as though offering a more helpful example.

"My family has let my prospective match know that I am, and I quote, tremendously sociable."

So that's how he dresses up 'notorious philanderer'...

But then, could you really fool anyone by packaging a man who was already a fixture of the gossip rags? She was still mulling that over when Lucas spoke, as if he'd read her mind.

"On top of that, I add a small lie—that I only ever attend parties at all because of my hopeless friends dragging me out. And the people who hear this begin, very generously, to view me in a new light. Ah, perhaps those rumors aren't actually true... That sort of thing."

His eyes curved, soft and guileless.

The man who deployed his beauty at every random opportunity exercised the habit yet again as he added, "And then I make sure to confirm that the rumors are true."

"...How?"

"I let them see me kissing another woman."

"..."

"Nine out of ten leave right away."

It would have been stranger if any of them hadn't left. She half wondered whether the young lady who stayed had simply fainted in her seat.

Using such methods in conservative Darkel, no less. A look of distaste crept over Enya's face, and Lucas burst into a short laugh at the sight of it.

Just then, Raphael opened the door of the piano room and stepped inside.

His jaw tightened at the sight of the two of them, looking thoroughly cozy.

Only upon seeing that stiff face did Enya register the distance—or lack of it—between Lucas and herself. When he had handed over the letter they had been sitting across a desk from one another, clearly enough, and yet at some point he had taken the seat beside her.

She had grown used to mixed company at the Academy, but this was the sort of posture that invited trouble with her reputation.

No—in truth, she couldn't have cared less what anyone thought. It was simply that her not-quite-extinguished feelings made her excessively aware of the man she loved from afar.

Pointlessly so.

And so Enya did what she always did: she acted as if nothing were amiss.

She made no move to put distance between herself and Lucas, and greeted Raphael with an indifferent face.

"You may be late, but class still ends on time."

At the sight of her announcing the end before the beginning, Raphael's brow arched sharply.

"Failing students get better treatment than honor students these days. Or is that just my imagination?"

"Could it be that those who arrive late and those who don't are simply treated differently?"

"...Lucas didn't even pay tuition."

What a remarkably childish retort.

Enya's brow creased as she recalled the jewel Raphael had foisted on her on the first day of class. He had boasted he would take triple whatever sum she named, but she'd never had any intention of actually taking a large payment.

Frankly, the connection he provided was worth more than enough.

Yet the man had gone ahead and handed over a meticulously cut topaz as "tuition." Topaz was hardly an expensive gem by nature, but one owned by the Young Duke of Pembroke would fetch far more than an ordinary stone ever could.

She never hesitated to win tokens and money in the salons for the sake of reaching Eberdeen... but no matter how badly she needed funds, she could not accept something so costly.

Greed for too much, in anything, always invited ruin.

Since tuition had come up anyway, Enya spoke in a firm voice.

"I'll be returning that topaz."

"Topaz?"

"The jewel you gave me as tuition before. I left it in my room for fear of losing it—I'll bring it to our next lesson."

"Ah, that thing."

Raphael gave a faint smile, then promptly wore an arrogant expression.

"Taking back something I've already given is out of the question. If you don't want it, throw it away."

"I beg your pardon?"

"And collect tuition from Lucas, too."

Truly, the man answered to no one but himself. Enya resolved to revise her earlier assessment that Raphael's character was remarkably gentlemanly. Then she turned to Lucas.

"Don't worry about tuition. The information you shared just now is more than enough."

At talk of something he knew nothing about, Raphael's face soured almost instantly.

Lucas, glancing between him and Enya, nodded with a gentle smile.

"Ah, you mean the conversation about kissing."

At this boldly compressed summary of what they had discussed, bewilderment flickered through Enya's eyes.

Raphael went still, and asked in a voice gone dark and overcast.

"Kissing?"

***

Even under Raphael's relentless gaze, Lucas kept his mouth firmly shut until the end.

Enya could hardly go broadcasting other people's private affairs, so she avoided the blue eyes studying her with maddening patience.

Then, to forestall any misunderstanding, she dismissed it with a simple we were only discussing marriage interviews.

But Raphael's expression only hardened further at those very words. Unable to fathom why, she spent the rest of the lesson contending with him in her thoughts.

...Could he have gotten the wrong idea about me? That I'm some loose woman?

An absurd worry surfaced against her will. Not that anything would change whether Raphael believed it or not.

A shade dispirited, Enya let it go.

At the stroke of the hour, the Eberdeen lesson ended, and Lucas was the first to gather his things and rise.

"Well then, Teacher Campbell—I'll be rooting for a favorable outcome at your interview next week. As for me, I have business to attend to."

A favorable outcome.

Lucas had a gift for leaving the meaning of his words conveniently murky. Did he do it on purpose? By the time that belated suspicion formed, the man was already out the door of the piano room.

The air in the room settled strangely heavy.

Awareness crept over her without cause.

Enya ended up hurriedly gathering her things, and Raphael, who had been sitting in silence even after the lesson's end, finally rose. He approached her where she still sat in her chair.

The large man eclipsing her field of vision in an instant looked down at her with a crooked face.

"Has the 'finest opportunity' come at last to Lady Campbell of the unfortunate circumstances?"

Irrepressible bitterness laced the question. Starting with the fact that he had spat informal speech at her all this time, only to switch to honorifics now.

Enya's face reflexively creased a little.

There was a faint rebuke in his gaze. So he had taken her for a loose woman after all. Her first impulse was to correct him—but press the protest too hard, and he might glimpse what lay beneath.

Cramming down the feeling that surged ahead of her, Enya spoke.

"Yes, it's a fine match."

"...Same predictable answer as ever."

"And as realistic as ever."

Thank goodness for good command of her expression. Her voice, too, came out utterly calm.

That was only the surface, of course—discussing marriage interviews with the man you loved from afar was a quietly agonizing thing to do.

Each time she came face to face with her own greed like this, Enya wanted all the more to avoid Raphael altogether.

The moment she rose from her chair, his hand pressed her gently back down into the seat. She became acutely conscious of the large hand on her shoulder. Her slender throat undulated soundlessly.

And Raphael, though he noticed her gaze drift toward his hand on her shoulder, did not withdraw it from the curve of her shoulder.

It wasn't a calculated move.

Only a simple, one-dimensional wish had seized him first—that Enya simply wouldn't leave the piano room. An impulse unlike him entirely.

Damn it...

Raphael silently chewed curses at his own strangeness. Ever since he'd heard about her marriage interview, his wretched mood refused to lift. No—since before that. Since he'd heard the word kissing fall from Lucas's mouth.

What in the world could the two of them have to say about kissing?

That was why he wanted to shake the feeling off by any means necessary.

He didn't understand why he felt this wretched—but the way to dispel it, that he understood with perfect clarity.

Raphael asked the woman who was looking up at him with trembling eyes.

"This fine opportunity—what if there were something better than that marriage interview?"

He couldn't say why, only that if she didn't go through with the interview, somehow, this feeling might ease a little.