11. Capital Acquaintances
11
Capital Acquaintances
Rosalind fanned herself with a hat as Valentina regaled her with a colorful account of an embarrassing incident at a garden party a few years back. They were returning from a walk around a small pond at the far end of the estate grounds. It was a beautiful day—the sun was bright, and a crisp, cool breeze danced along bare skin like a soft caress.
“And then he split his trousers—I swear it!”
Rosalind let out an incredulous gasp. “No!”
“Yes!” Valentina replied, matching Rosalind’s tone.
Both broke into shrieks of laughter as they slipped through the rear entrance of the manor and headed through to the foyer. Rosalind had to wipe away the tears that pricked at the corner of her eyes.
“I thought I heard you two,” came a familiar voice. “I daresay all of Proper might have.”
Rosalind glanced up to see Jonathan eyeing them, arms crossed and the hint of a smirk on his lips.
“Oh, hush yourself,” Valentina said with a dismissive wave in his direction. “It’s called having a bit of fun. Ever heard of it?”
“Funny you should ask. I was just sharing laughs with a couple of friends visiting on their way back from the capital. Why don’t you come and join us in the conservatory? They’d very much like to meet you both.”
“What, now? You can’t be serious. ”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Valentina drawled, “look at us! We’ve just returned from the pond and doubtless reek of sweat. Not to mention the state of our attire.” She pointed to the muddy hemline of her dress.
Jonathan’s gaze flicked from Valentina to Rosalind. “I think you look quite well.”
A light blush dusted Rosalind’s cheeks. That is until she lifted a hand to her windswept hair and was met with tangled locks. She peered down at her slacks and spied flecks of mud at her ankles. There was little chance she looked as well as he made it seem.
“Who are they? These guests of yours.” Valentina eyed her brother skeptically.
“Padraic and Ilora Mason. I met them in my first year and now count them amongst my closest friends.”
“Mason,” Valentina repeated thoughtfully. “As in…”
“The Chancellor of Meridian? Yes, he’s their father.”
Valentina nodded as if she were considering something. “Alright, I’ll meet them.”
Rosalind half expected her to elaborate, but she offered nothing more. Instead, she felt both Rashfords turn their attention to her.
“M-me as well?”
“He did say they’d like to meet the both of us.”
“Ah, yes, well.” Rosalind hesitated, absentmindedly touching her hair. “I suppose I should then.”
She glanced over at Jonathan and offered him a small, somewhat reluctant smile. He flashed her a smile in return, making her heart skip a beat.
It had been four days since her birthday, and during that time, they had crossed each other’s paths only twice, both instances brief and in the presence of others. Each time he was cordial and showed no hint of wariness or unease around her. In fact, he showed no signs of being affected at all. And while that was what she had asked for—that they would remain as they were before—Rosalind couldn’t help but feel a pang of something that closely resembled disappointment.
What’s more, she found herself unable to respond in kind. She fidgeted and fumbled her words more so than usual. He certainly noticed, and if she wasn’t more careful, others might as well.
“But before we do,” Valentina insisted, “we absolutely must change out of these clothes.”
“Do know they don’t have all day,” he said dryly.
“Yes, yes. We’ll be right down,” she promised as she clasped Rosalind’s hand and dragged her up the stairs.
A good deal longer than promised, Rosalind and Valentina descended the stairs. Both had changed into blue dresses, but unlike Rosalind, who threw on the first one she saw—a simple cotton frock—Valentina dressed to impress with an elegant brocade number, the color of sapphire. She had drawn up her hair into a loose chignon held in place by a gold hairpin. Rosalind was left to her own devices and, not capable of much else, wove her hair into twin plaits.
Valentina sashayed into the conservatory without bothering to wait for a lull in conversation. Rosalind slipped in silently after her. The pair were greeted with an arched brow from Jonathan and two sets of striking hazel eyes.
“About time,” Jonathan muttered.
“Time is a construct, dear brother,” Valentina said with a shrug.
“Hear, hear,” cheered the sharp-dressed man to Jonathan’s right, which promoted unimpressed glances from both Jonathan and the woman beside him.
“This, as you may have guessed, is my delightful sister, Lady Valentina Rashford. And accompanying her is our longtime friend, Miss Rosalind Carver.”
“How do you do,” Valentina responded with a tilt of her head .
Rosalind followed suit, lowering into a bow more pronounced than Valentina’s. She was aware their guests were members of high society, which meant she was the only one in the room without a title.
“And these here are my dear friends, Lord Padraic Mason and his lovely sister, Lady Ilora Mason.”
“Oh how dreadfully formal, Jonathan. Please, call me Padraic.”
“Ilora,” said his sister, offering Rosalind and Valentina a small smile.
“Padraic,” Valentina began, “I take it you were in the law program with my brother?”
Padraic nodded. “You’d be right.”
“You know,” she went on, “he was rather insufferable during our shared lessons when we were younger. Knew all the answers, asked too many questions, and studied for far longer than was necessary—a real bootlicker. Ros can attest to it. Grandmum adored him for it, of course. Tell me, is he as insufferable as he was back then?”
Padraic chuckled. “Oh, undoubtedly, though I must admit it was to my great benefit. I wouldn’t have passed my classes if he hadn’t insisted I accompany him to the library. On a weekend . And him helping me with my dissertations on more than one occasion…”
“Let’s not forget all the notes he let you borrow time and time again,” Ilora added.
“Yes, alright,” Padraic muttered with a roll of his eyes. “For those reasons, I can’t tease him on such matters in good conscience. Now, if we were to speak of instances not pertaining to studies…” He trailed off and let a mischievous grin imply the rest.
Valentina’s eyes lit up. “Do tell,” she said excitedly as she approached the empty seat beside Padraic. The two began chatting animatedly with one another, luring Jonathan in on the conversation in a futile attempt to defend himself .
Left to fend for herself, Rosalind considered what reason she might give to excuse herself from the room.
“You’re welcome to sit here.”
She glanced up to find Ilora gesturing toward a nearby chair. With a murmur of appreciation, Rosalind sat down. Inclined to say something, she asked, “And how did you come to know Jonathan? Did you also attend university in the capital?”
“No, I attended university in our home region of Meridian as per my father’s wishes, but I often traveled to the capital to visit Padraic. I met Jonathan on my second visit. He joined Padraic and I at a tavern late one evening.” She peered over at Jonathan with a fond smile.
“I still remember, he’d spent the day cooped up in the Records Hall poring over international trade regulations, and he tried asking my brother a question or two. Our family is in trade, you see,” she explained. “But Padraic doesn’t much care about such matters. Lucky for Jonathan, though, I do have a bit of a penchant for legislation so I offered what insight I could, and the rest was history.”
“What are you on about over there?” Head tilted, Jonathan looked from Ilora to Rosalind and back.
“Don’t you fret. Unlike Padraic, I’m not keen to divulge your humiliations for fear you may respond in kind. I was simply telling her how we came to know one another.”
Rosalind thought she saw his smile falter slightly at Ilora’s assurance, but she was soon distracted by the sound of Maria entering with a cart of refreshments.
After freshly brewed tea and biscuits were passed around, the group settled into easy conversation. Valentina and Padraic did most of the talking, though Jonathan and Ilora were quick to jump in here and there. Rosalind laughed and nodded, content with sipping her tea and listening to the lively chatter .
It quickly became apparent how similar the siblings were to one another. For one, the Masons seemed to trade barbs as often as Valentina and Jonathan did. And just like the Rashfords, no genuine malice lay in wait behind their words.
Then there was the way they carried themselves; how all four displayed an abundance of confidence and composure. Jonathan’s showed in the way he listened, like he had all the time in the world for each and every person in the room. For Valentina, it was how she spoke, with a fervor that commanded attention. Padraic’s hands spoke as loud as his words, so much so that it made him impossible to ignore. And for Ilora, it was the way in which she held herself, calm and collected with her shoulders back and head held high.
But their most notable similarity was also the most discernible. Like Jonathan, Padraic wore an impeccable tailored suit, his even more ornate in texture and adornments. Underneath his midnight tartan jacket lay a white ruffled shirt with a large emerald brooch at his neck. He wore his short brown hair, which shone like bronze in the light, slicked to one side.
Ilora’s hair, which held the same metallic glint, was twisted, pinned, and draped into an elaborate chignon. She wore a crimson corseted dress with fitted sleeves and a deep, rounded neckline. A similar shade of rouge tinted her full lips and dusted her defined cheekbones. Valentina would undoubtedly approve of her sophisticated ensemble.
“Rosalind, you must have your share of stories about Jonathan as well. You’ve called Brighthall your home for some time now, yes?”
She glanced up to see four sets of eyes on her. Focusing her attention on Ilora, who had been the one to speak, she nodded.
“Nearly sixteen years.”
An astonished expression swept across Ilora’s face. “Safe to say you know each other quite well then. ”
A strangled laugh bubbled up Rosalind’s throat and she purposefully avoided Jonathan’s gaze.
“You two must feel like brother and sister at this point,” Padraic quipped.
Jonathan sputtered into his tea, prompting everyone to look at him.
“Are you alright?” Ilora asked, resting a hand gently on his arm.
He adjusted his collar and cleared his throat. “Had too much at once is all,” he rasped. His eyes caught Rosalind’s briefly before he turned to Ilora and offered her a reassuring smile.
“Speaking of,” he went on, his voice having returned to normal, “tea’s gone cold, hasn’t it? Why don’t I ask Maria to bring us something a little stronger? Any requests?”
Valentina and Ilora quickly offered suggestions, and Rosalind breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad Jonathan was so easily able to change the subject.
She glanced over at Padraic and was surprised to see he hadn’t involved himself in the conversation at hand. Instead, he was studying Jonathan, who seemed none the wiser. Then his gaze flicked to her. A trickle of unease slid down Rosalind’s spine as curious eyes surveyed her. Moments later, she watched in quiet horror as a small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
“That’s settled then,” Rosalind heard Jonathan say. “I will ask Mari—”
“I’ll go,” Rosalind blurted, jumping to her feet. “You should stay with your guests. Besides, I have a good guess as to where she’ll be right now. It’s no bother at all.”
“If you insist,” he said slowly.
“I do,” she replied a little too eagerly. Anything to escape Padraic’s knowing gaze, she thought as she hurried out of the room .
Rosalind knew she’d spent much too long helping Maria prepare the drink cart, but she needed time to collect herself. She had to go back in there and act as if nothing was the matter because, for all intents and purposes, nothing was the matter. Whatever Padraic had concluded was merely conjecture, and she would make certain not to do anything to encourage it.
Such were her thoughts as she absentmindedly rounded the corner on her way out of the kitchen. She was heading back toward the conservatory when she collided with someone. Quick hands reached out to grasp her shoulders, steadying her.
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I wasn’t looking at where I was going…” Her voice trailed off when she locked eyes with Jonathan.
“There you are.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“You’d been gone a while so I thought I’d check on things. Everything alright?”
“Oh, yes. I figured I might as well help Maria with—”
“I rather meant about earlier,” he clarified. “You seemed more than a little eager to escape.”
“Oh, that.” She hesitated. “It’s nothing. You know me, just a bit nervous around new people.”
A part of her wanted to tell him the true reason why, but that would require her to mention the other night, and she didn’t think she could manage it without sounding like a bumbling mess.
Based on the look on his face, Jonathan wasn’t convinced. “Do you not like them?”
“No! I mean, yes,” she said, her eyes wide. “I do like them. They seem very nice. It’s just…”
“It’s just…” he repeated.
She rubbed at the back of her neck. “Well, it’s ridiculous, really, and probably all in my head. I get the feeling that”—she glanced around the corridor and lowered her voice—“he suspects something.”
Jonathan inclined his head, bringing his ear closer to her mouth. “Come again?”
“I said I think he suspects something about…” She gestured between them.
“Do you mean Padraic?” He turned his head to meet her gaze, their faces mere inches apart. “What does he suspect?”
Rosalind eyed him incredulously. Had their night together been so trivial that he didn’t know what she was referring to? She knew she shouldn’t have tried to explain it. She looked away and shook her head. “Never mind.”
When she dared a glance back up at him, she found him biting back a smile. A mixture of relief and frustration rushed her. “You do know what I was trying to say!”
“I do,” he admitted, “but I quite enjoy watching you try to explain it to me. Your nose forms a charming little wrinkle when you’re frustrated, did you know that?”
He held her eyes a moment longer then straightened himself. “What makes you think he suspects something about us?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know… he just had a look about him.” When she said it aloud, it didn’t sound all that convincing. Perhaps it was all in her head. She sighed. “Let’s just go back, shall we?”
“How about this: I’ll keep an eye out,” he promised. Then he held a hand out in front of her. “Ladies first.”
She didn’t miss the light press of his hand against her lower back as she preceded him along the corridor and back into the conservatory.
As soon as they entered the room, Rosalind looked to where Padraic stood, a sly smile playing on his lips.
“Dammit, he knows,” Jonathan murmured under his breath .
Before anything could be done about it, Charlene entered the room wheeling a cart of sherry and accouterments, including ice, sugar, blackberries, and orange slices. Jonathan thanked her and set to work on the drinks.
“Let me help you with that,” Ilora offered.
“Ilora, I’m perfectly capable of pouring some sugar into sherry.”
“Are you now?” she teased as she swiped the bottle of sherry from his hand and moved him aside with a gentle nudge of her shoulder. “Last I recall, you’re a bit heavy-handed.”
They laughed amongst themselves as they went about preparing cobblers for the room.
“Those two seem comfortable with one another,” Rosalind overheard Valentina say to Padraic as they approached.
“Ah, yes, two of a kind, they are,” remarked Padraic. “Whenever she’d come to visit me at the capital, I’d lose sight of her only to find her hours later holed up in the corner of some seedy tavern with your brother.”
Rosalind’s chest tightened at the thought of Jonathan and Ilora nestled at a small table in a crowded, dimly lit room, exchanging quiet words and soft smiles.
“But that was some time ago,” he went on as he sidled up next to Rosalind. “They haven’t seen much of one another in the past year, what with Jonathan so focused on the chancellorship and all.”
“Can’t say we’ve seen all that much of him either,” Valentina admitted. “He’s been back a little over a month, and I’ve spent only a handful of days in his company. Probably for the best; I haven’t felt the urge to tear his head off in ages.”
Padraic chuckled. “Busy man, that one. Though I do hope he has some way of taking his mind off things every once in a while. He deserves a break.”
Rosalind could feel his eyes on her and she had to fight the urge to shrink away. Hoping to get him to talk about something else—anything else—she asked, “What about you? Will you be succeeding your father as Chancellor of Meridian?”
“Not if it can be helped,” Padraic muttered sardonically.
“You don’t want to?”
“Truthfully, no,” he replied. “Besides, our family will only retain the chancellorship for another six years. After that, it’s for another family to contend with. My bet is on the Fowlers.”
As in Denault, the Meridian Chancellorship changed families every seventy-seven years. The Masons were approaching the end of their decades-long tenure. Even so, their family would continue to hold a seat on the regional council.
“I’m of the mind that my father should see it through to the end,” he continued. “Unfortunately, he doesn’t share my opinion. He’s adamant that I succeed him in the role, even if only for a few years. Having held the title will grant me more influence once I am but a humble member of the council, or so he says. As it stands, no one takes me seriously and I’m little more than a disappointment.”
“Says who?” Valentina asked, visibly appalled.
“Says my father. Says a few of my old professors. Says that haughty, slippery little council member of yours.”
Rosalind grimaced. “Lord DuPont?”
“That’ll be the one. Always praising my father and offering his counsel on matters that don’t concern him, be it Meridian or the family business. And for whatever reason, my father laps it all up. Jonathan has his work cut out for him where that awful man’s concerned.”
Padraic leaned in and dropped his voice so only Rosalind and Valentina could hear. “Ilora wouldn’t like me saying this, but if Jonathan trusts you both, then I feel I can too. I have no intention of succeeding my father, and if things go according to plan, I won’t have to. ”
Valentina looked about as surprised as Rosalind felt about the insinuation. “You have… a plan?”
“I do.” Padraic grinned. “A very simple one I hope comes to fruition sooner than later.”
“If you don’t assume the council position, then who will?” Rosalind inquired.
“Ilora, ideally. She’s much better suited to it than me. If only Father would entertain the idea…” Padraic trailed off, frowning.
“You three look to be conspiring over there. Anything I should be concerned about?” Jonathan’s tone was light, but Rosalind didn’t miss the slight twitch in his jaw.
He ventured over with a drink in each hand. He offered one to Valentina and the other to Rosalind. Ilora soon joined, sipping on one drink and handing another to Padraic.
“Are you not having one?” Rosalind asked.
“Sherry cobblers are a bit sweet for me,” Jonathan said. “Luckily, Louis has set me up real nice in nearly every room.” He made his way over to a small table in the corner and picked up a decanter of whiskey.
“So what’s this I hear about you visiting the border?”
Jonathan stilled at Padraic’s question and looked over to where Ilora stood.
“Sorry, it slipped out,” she murmured. “Long carriage ride and all.”
Jonathan took a long sip of his whiskey as if preparing for what came next. “It’s something that’s crossed my mind, yes.”
“You? At the border?” Valentina eyed him incredulously. “Whatever for?”
“I think it’s time. It’s been twenty-five years since a Chancellor last visited.”
Valentina scoffed. “Father was the last to visit? Something tells me that didn’t go too well. ”
“Depends on who you ask,” Jonathan said into his glass.
“I’ll take that as a no then.”
He remained silent.
Valentina crossed her arms and asked, “When do you leave?”
“Two weeks from now.”
“And who is accompanying you?”
Jonathan didn’t answer right away. When he did, Rosalind feared the mounting tension that coiled in the air might snap.
“No one. I’m going alone.”
Valentina, still as a statue, eyed Jonathan for a long moment. When she finally moved, it was to bring her glass to her lips. She tipped her head back and didn’t let up until it was empty. Setting the glass down on a nearby table, she clasped her hands in front of her and let out a slow breath. Then she smiled.
“Not anymore,” she said in a calm, reserved tone. “Because I’m coming with you.”
Jonathan huffed a laugh. “No. No ,” he repeated more vehemently.
Valentina rested her hands on her hips. “Whyever not?”
Jonathan pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because, Val, this isn’t some sort of holiday. Not a merry jaunt through the countryside. Odds are it’s going to be a rather unpleasant trip, one I wouldn’t wish to impose on anybody else. And you needn’t concern yourself with my safety if that’s what this is about,” he went on. “I’ve been assured safe passage to and from the village. That said, I’m under no illusions about how I’ll be received. There will be no welcome party; you know as well as I that father made certain of that. I only hope I can persuade the Keeper to hear me out.”
“Hear you out, hmm? So this trip isn’t only about showing face,” Valentina remarked with one brow raised.
“It is,” Jonathan answered before adding, “among other things. ”
“All the more reason for me to accompany you then. I’m quite adept at winning people over, am I not?” Valentina directed the last few words at Padraic, who offered Jonathan an apologetic smile as he nodded in agreement.
“Also, how do I put this delicately,” she considered aloud, resting her chin on steepled fingers. “Are you being deliberately obtuse? Have you forgotten where our sweet Rosalind hails from? If anyone in this room has a remote chance of being welcomed at the border, it’ll be Ros.”
Rosalind stiffened as she felt three pairs of eyes fix on her. Only Jonathan averted his gaze, eyes trained on the floor at his feet. She knew then the thought had already crossed his mind. So why hadn’t he asked her? Though, truthfully, she wasn’t sure she would be of any real help. She’d spent most of her life in Denault Proper and still hadn’t been accepted by high society. Surely, a place she called home for a mere six years would be even less inviting.
“She has a point.”
It was Ilora who had spoken.
“Not about you being obtuse, of course,” she continued, “but about leveraging every possible advantage you have at your disposal. Is that not advice you’ve bestowed upon me before? If Miss Carver here has a connection with the border, you should make use of it. Granted, nothing may come of it, but it won’t hurt any. Moreover, knowing you weren’t going alone would certainly ease my concerns about the trip. As I mentioned in my last letter, I’d be more than willing to accompany you if my father would allow it.”
Rosalind felt her heart sink with the weight of Ilora’s words. There was the notion of being reduced to something so impersonal as a possible advantage at one’s disposal . If Jonathan had considered her company on this trip as she supposed he had, was it with a similar perspective? And then there was the disconcerting thought of Jonathan considering Ilora as his travel companion. Would she be but a possible advantage as well, or something more?
“I appreciate the concern from both of you,” Jonathan said, his gaze shifting between Valentina and Ilora. “Ilora, we both know your father would not consent to such travel without protective personnel. And Val”—he let out a long sigh—“will you cease with the interrogation for now if I promise to consider your proposal? This is not me saying yes, mind you, but—”
“Works for me,” Valentina interjected with a triumphant grin.
Jonathan drew his gaze to Rosalind. “Try as she might, Val doesn’t speak on your behalf. I’ll exclude you from any deliberations should you wish it.”
“No, it’s alright,” Rosalind replied. “You may consider me as well if I may be useful.” And she meant it. If there was even a remote chance she could be of help, she would. That’s what friends were for, right?
“The more the merrier, I say,” Padraic exclaimed. “Enzo’s never had trouble at the border, but then again—”
“Padraic,” Ilora warned quietly.
“Enzo?” Valentina inquired.
“My partner,” he disclosed with a bright smile. “They”—Padraic shot Ilora a furtive glance—“grew up near the borderlands so they’re more familiar with local customs and what have you. I could ask them for pointers if you’d like.”
“Please do,” Jonathan replied.
“I’m curious to hear about this Enzo of yours,” Valentina said. “What are they like? How did you two meet?”
“They’re absolutely lovely,” Padraic said with a twinkle in his eye. “Gracious, thoughtful, and wise. They know something about everything and have endless patience, which works out quite well for me. They also have a deliciously dark sense of humor. Sometimes, I’m not altogether confident they don’t mean what they say .
“In public and around people they aren’t familiar with, they’re very reserved,” he went on, hardly pausing for breath. “So much so that when I first met them, I thought they didn’t like me very much.”
“That’s because they didn’t,” Ilora offered. “They thought you talked too much. I daresay they still think that.”
“Yes, well”—Padraic waved dismissively—“they’re not the only person to feel that way about me at first. What matters is that I won them over in the end with my relentless charm.”
“Wore them down is more like it,” Jonathan quipped, joining in on Ilora’s teasing.
Padraic lifted his chin. “You two are just jealous.” Then he turned towards Valentina and Rosalind, adding, “Enzo is very handsome. Everybody thinks so.”
“They are,” Ilora affirmed.
Jonathan nodded. “Exceedingly so.”
And with that, the tension in the room had dissipated, aided in part by a second round of drinks. Following a spirited debate around heavily patterned bowties, Rosalind and Valentina finally excused themselves to freshen up properly. They exchanged farewells with the Masons and made their way out of the room.
“I think I got on quite well with Padraic,” Valentina remarked quietly as they ventured up the stairs.
“No, really?” Rosalind flashed her a wry grin.
“And Ilora seems nice enough, pretty and clever. Reminds me a bit of Jonathan, like a fairer-haired version of him with breasts. And less hubris, though that’s more indicative of the society we live in than her character, I suspect. She certainly isn’t shy about showing my brother affection, is she?”
“Not particularly,” Rosalind mumbled, relying on her hushed tone to conceal the irritation in her voice .
“He seems comfortable around her, familiar. But I’m not convinced the feeling is mutual. Perhaps once, but…”
But what , Rosalind yearned to ask when Valentina did not elaborate further, having turned her thoughts inwards.
“You know what Grandmum once told me on her sickbed?”
The question caught Rosalind by surprise, seemingly unrelated to everything that had come before it. She must have given her an odd look because Valentina added, “I’m getting to it.”
“She said Rashfords have a long history,” she continued, “of marrying for purpose, not love, and that it was on me to change things. Me ! Mind you, I must have been, what, fifteen when she imparted that lovely nugget of wisdom unto me. I thought, why is she telling me this? I have no intention to marry. Of course, I was careful to keep this bit to myself lest I wished to hasten her journey to the grave… But now, I realize she might have told me not for my sake, but for Jonathan’s. She was always thinking about Jonathan,” she explained and Rosalind could just make out the almost imperceptible tinge of hurt in her voice, though Valentina didn’t linger in the thought for long. “All of this is to say I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jonathan in love. Not yet, at least. Fancy, sure, but love? I should like to think I’ll know it when I see it. Call it sisterly intuition,” she said with a shrug.
Rosalind offered up an agreeable smile in lieu of words. Her thoughts were too all over the place to arrive at a coherent sentence. Valentina’s musings had her contemplating one thing after another.
Had she meant to imply Jonathan did indeed fancy Ilora, but it had not yet manifested into love? And if she recognized when Jonathan showed interest in someone, did that mean she had noticed something between him and Rosalind? Or had he not even fancied her enough for Valentina to notice in the first place? Which scenario was worse, she wasn’t sure .
Then, a bittersweet memory surfaced, one that distracted her from the small spiral of anxiety that had begun to whirl within her mind. It was born from Valentina’s mention of her grandmother, the late Dowager Rashford, on her sickbed.