4. An Invitation
4
An Invitation
Rosalind leaned back in her chair, feet resting atop the seat beside her. She nibbled at a piece of bread smothered in butter and jam and stared absentmindedly out the dining room window.
Valentina sat at the head of the table reading aloud from The Great Vine , the local newspaper that collated the top stories of the past week from each of Sauvign’s four regions.
“ Chancellor Rashford mum upon return to Denault ,” Valentina recited dryly. “ Nearly a fortnight into his return to the region, there has yet to be a public sighting of the newly inaugurated Chancellor. An unnamed source claims ‘the young man has cold feet.’ ” Valentina scoffed. “What absolute poppycock.”
She peered over the paper at Rosalind. “How much do you want to bet the ‘unnamed source’ is that loathsome creature who haunts the halls of Harcourt Manor?”
“Not to mention our nightmares,” mumbled Rosalind. “But yes, I wouldn’t put it past DuPont to say as much,” she said grimly. “That or perhaps he commissioned Armory to do so.”
“Pitiful,” Valentina muttered as she rolled her eyes. “They’re bitter, old men who can’t stand the idea of reporting to someone half their age. Jonathan better not let them walk all over him tomorrow evening. If he doesn’t put them in their place, I will.”
Tomorrow would be Jonathan’s first time convening with the regional council as Chancellor of Denault. To commemorate the occasion, Brighthall Manor was hosting a dinner for the council members and their partners. While Valentina would accompany Jonathan as his guest, Rosalind intended to retreat to her bedroom for the evening to avoid encountering Lord DuPont and his bootlicking colleague, Lord Armory.
Both had been unkind to her over the years, Lord DuPont especially so. According to him, Rosalind wasn’t befitting of high society. Not only was she a low-born from the borderlands, but she was also, as he so aptly put it, tainted by magic. She was a constant reminder that, while wielding magic was banned under the New Laws, magic itself still existed. And to him, anyone associated with magic was either evil or weak. Evil because magic was inherently corruptive, and no one person should be able to wield it while another could not. Weak because to have been affected by it meant a person lacked the mental, physical, or emotional fortitude to stop it. Rosalind knew he believed this because he was not quiet about his opinions.
He was largely responsible for why most of high society viewed her unfavorably. The only reason more did not voice their contempt was because of her association with the Rashfords.
“You two look like you’ve just tasted something bitter. Better not have been anything I made.”
Rosalind glanced over her shoulder to see Maria standing with a tray in her hands, her brows raised in question.
“Never,” she said, pressing a hand to her chest. “We were just speaking about DuPont.”
“The embodiment of distasteful,” remarked Valentina.
“Ah.” Maria nodded. “I would tell you two to be more respectful, but that man doesn’t deserve it.”
The two younger women glanced at one another and snickered.
“Like children, the pair of you,” Maria said with a shake of her head. “I had come in here hoping to find a young lady to help me with something. ”
Valentina set down her newspaper. “How may we be of service?”
The housekeeper peered down at the tray in her hand. “I would appreciate it if one of you could take Jonathan his breakfast this morning.”
“Why?” Valentina asked Maria skeptically. “Is he in a foul mood?”
Maria laughed. “No, darling. I’m hoping you two will have more luck getting that boy to eat. Every morning I serve him his breakfast and every afternoon, I come to collect it only to find hardly a thing has been touched. Perhaps one of you could convince him to take a short break and eat a proper meal.”
Valentina reached for the newspaper again and fanned it out in front of her. She sat back idly in her chair, speaking from behind the paper. “Unless you’d like me to waltz in there and shove it down his throat, which I would do with glee, I suggest Ros do the honors. She has far more patience than I.”
Sighing, Rosalind turned to Maria and nodded. “I’ll give it a try.”
Rosalind hovered outside the study. Nearly every day since their reunion in the kitchen the week prior, Jonathan had stopped in to pour himself a cup of coffee. They exchanged pleasantries about the weather and what they had planned for the day. Sometimes he would ask about something he’d noticed in the manor, like a new vase or painting. Each time they spoke, she found herself growing more and more at ease in his presence. His manner and appearance were so refined that he had intimidated her. But underneath it all, she caught glimpses of the Jonathan she was familiar with .
Their interactions were brief, each having things to attend to. Still, Rosalind found herself spending a few extra minutes getting ready in the morning in anticipation. For pragmatic reasons, of course. She should always strive to show her best around someone in such an eminent position as he, should she not?
She carefully balanced the tray between her hand and hip and lightly tapped the door. On hearing his invitation to enter, she slipped inside and approached the desk with muted steps.
Jonathan didn’t look up. An elbow was propped up on the desk and he rubbed at his temple as he read through what looked to be a large stack of handwritten notes. To Rosalind’s surprise, he was wearing glasses.
“Thank you,” he murmured as she sat the tray near him.
Wordlessly, Rosalind prepared a slice of bread for him. If she recalled correctly, he liked a hefty drizzle of honey and a dash of cinnamon on his toast. She set the plate down and slid it toward him.
Jonathan’s head tilted slightly as his attention shifted to the plate. He peered up, clearly surprised to see Rosalind.
“Good morning,” she said softly. “Do you still favor honey on your toast?”
The corner of his lips quirked up. “I do, though it’s been some time since I’ve enjoyed it.” He lifted the toast to his mouth and took a bite.
Rosalind watched as he licked at a small bead of honey that clung to his lips. She dropped her head to conceal the fierce blush that swept across her cheeks, making quick work of tidying the tray in front of her.
It was only natural to find him attractive. He was clever, confident, and charming. And there was something about his face, or perhaps his eyes, that drew one’s gaze to him and made it hard to look away .
Even when he was younger and hadn’t quite grown into his long, lean limbs and sharp features, many men and women clamored for his attention. Now it seemed everyone did—evidenced by the frequency of his name in the society papers.
The sound of her name pulled Rosalind out of her thoughts. “Pardon?”
“I was just thanking you for bringing me my breakfast,” Jonathan said, motioning to the tray. He was standing now, eyeing her curiously.
“Oh, you’re welcome,” Rosalind answered bashfully, embarrassed at not having heard him the first time. She paused. “Maria worries about you, you know. Says you haven’t been eating properly.”
“I don’t do it purposefully.” Jonathan rubbed at the back of his neck. “I merely get caught up in things and forget. I’ll make a more concerted effort from here on out.”
“Good,” Rosalind replied cheerily. “Maria will be pleased.”
Silence fell over the pair. Rosalind contemplated leaving, but instead, for some inane reason, she blurted out, “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”
“Ah, yes. These,” Jonathan said as he went to remove his spectacles. He leaned against the desk and examined them. “I can go without them, but they help stave off the headaches when I read for long periods. Though I’ve been advised not to wear them in public.”
“Why?”
Jonathan shrugged. “Apparently, it’s a sign of weakness. No self-respecting man would put himself in such a vulnerable position,” he said in a low, affected voice that sounded oddly familiar.
Rosalind’s eyes widened in realization. “ He said that to you?”
Jonathan nodded. “He did, during one of his visits to the capital. Never misses a chance to offer unsolicited advice. ”
“Speaking of DuPont…” He set the glasses on the table and slipped his hands into his pockets. “There's something I wanted to ask you. It’s about the welcome dinner tomorrow evening.”
“What about it?”
“I was hoping you would accompany me as my guest.”
Rosalind blinked. “You… want me to attend your dinner with the Denaultian council?”
“I do," he said. "Everyone will be accompanied by a guest if that makes it any more enticing.”
“But I thought Valentina was acting as your guest for the evening?”
“She was, but Lady Condry’s guest had to cancel on short notice. She intended to bring her niece but recently received word that she had fallen under the weather. Not wanting Lady Condry to be unaccompanied, Valentina offered to accompany her in her niece’s stead. That leaves my guest’s seat unattended.”
Rosalind chewed the inside of her lip. “There isn’t another you wish to ask? I’m certain most anyone in Proper would be delighted to accompany you.”
“I could, but I thought it might be a good opportunity for us to become better acquainted.”
“Oh,” she breathed. It was nice to know he was also interested in rekindling their friendship after so many years.
“I should mention,” he added hesitantly, “there is another reason I’m hoping you will accompany me.”
Rosalind eyed him warily. “And that is…”
“As you know, DuPont and Armory have each served as council members for nearly three decades. In that time, they have never shied away from making their opinions known. As such, I am well aware of their stances on nearly every issue, wielding and otherwise.
“Then there’s Lady Condry,” he went on. “She inherited the role a little over a decade ago following the passing of her husband. Council records show she tends to vote in line with DuPont and Armory.
“It is the final two members, Lord Sene and Lord Aston, I'm less certain about. They are relatively new to the council, both having been inducted within the last five years. This is where I’m hoping you might be of help.”
Rosalind hazarded a guess. “You want to see how they behave around me.” If they treated her well enough, he would know they were not yet wholly under Lord DuPont’s thumb.
Jonathan nodded. “I know this isn’t an easy ask of you, and were you to accept, I’d ensure everyone is on their best behavior. If you choose to decline, please rest assured there will be no hard feelings on my part. I swear it.”
“I… will attend,” she replied tenuously. Before she could change her mind, she bid him farewell and hurried out of the room. As soon as the door closed behind her, she leaned against it and let out a long breath.
Spending an entire evening sharing a room with Lord DuPont and his wife sounded absolutely dreadful. She could already imagine the contemptuous looks they’d level at her. As for what they might say about her… best not to think about it. Why, then, had she agreed?
The answer was simple—because he had asked.