27. Ladies and Gentlemen
27
Ladies and Gentlemen
Rosalind wordlessly trailed behind Ilora and Louis as they navigated through the crowd and into the manor. Louis paused outside the threshold to the dining room and held out a hand, ushering them inside. More than a dozen people were standing about the room, and as soon as Rosalind registered who they were, she turned to leave but the steward blocked her path.
“Louis, please let me by,” she implored quietly. “You must have misheard. I don’t belong here.”
Behind her stood many of the same guests who’d attended Jonathan’s welcome dinner—Lord and Lady Armory, Lord and Lady Sene, Lord Aston and Dr. Tremblay, and Lady Condry. Standing beside Lady Condry was a younger woman, who Rosalind guessed was the niece unable to attend last time. As it appeared to be some sort of council gathering, no doubt Lord DuPont and his wife would be joining shortly.
“Hearing’s just fine, dear. Off you go,” Louis said, making no attempt to move.
“There you are.” Rosalind’s shoulders relaxed slightly at the familiar voice.
“So sorry to have left you on your own for so long,” Valentina remarked as she slid her arm into the crook of Rosalind’s elbow and steered her to an empty space against the nearby wall. “I hoped to find you before welcome duties commenced, but I got held up elsewhere. This evening is turning out to be much more eventful than I anticipated.”
“Why am I here, Val?” Rosalind muttered.
“Trust me, you don’t want to miss this,” Valentina replied. “And Jonathan would like you to know why he’s been so evasive as of late.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Plus, I think he wants to show off a little.”
Rosalind felt her cheeks warm. While in the room, she had lowered her gaze to avoid catching the attention of others, but now she dared to glance at where Jonathan stood. He was joined by Ilora and Padraic behind the large dining table, which had been pushed back to allow for more space. Pieces of parchment, a fountain pen, and an inkwell were set out before him. His head was inclined as he exchanged hushed words with Ilora.
Seeming to sense her attention, Jonathan looked up, and when his eyes captured hers, it was as if the world had melted away. She could see only him and hear nothing but the thrumming of her heart. The moment was fleeting, however, as Rosalind was soon pulled back into the present by the world’s most unpleasant sound.
“Yes, yes, I know it’s this way,” snapped a voice from beyond the doorway. “It isn’t as if Brighthall is impressive enough to get lost in.”
Seconds later, Lord DuPont strolled in alongside his wife. The unhurried demeanor with which he entered quickly evaporated once he realized the entirety of the Denaultian council was now in the room.
“What is the meaning of this?”
“Lord and Lady DuPont, how nice of you both to join us,” Jonathan said as he flashed the pair a practiced smile. “Just a spot of business to attend to is all. Shouldn’t take long, I promise.”
“Last I checked, this was a ball, not a council session, my boy. Surely whatever it is can wait. ”
“Normally, I would agree,” Jonathan said, “but tonight’s proceedings go beyond the council's purview. Fortunately, those present here now will be able to assist us, which is why I must insist we carry on.”
Lord DuPont’s gaze narrowed. “And what is it you expect those not of our council to do?”
“Serve as witnesses.”
“Witnesses?” Lord DuPont repeated incredulously. Then he eyed the papers on the table in front of Jonathan.
“Witnesses are only necessary if you intend to ratify an agreement that extends beyond our region.” Glancing over to where Ilora and Padraic stood, Lord DuPont added, “And while we are certainly honored to have the young Lord Mason and the lovely Lady Ilora in attendance, only the Chancellor can represent Meridian in such an event.”
“Right you are, which brings me to our first order of business,” Jonathan said as he extended a hand in Ilora’s direction. “It is my great pleasure to introduce the newly inducted Chancellor of Meridian, Lady Ilora Mason.”
Murmurs of surprise reverberated throughout the room.
Things have worked out quite in my favor. Better than I ever could have imagined. So this was what Ilora had been referring to in the courtyard.
“W-what of your father?” Lord DuPont spluttered. Looking between Ilora and Padraic, he started again. “And why is it not his son who—”
“Father’s health has suffered as of late,” Padraic pointed out before the older man could finish. “After much deliberation, he made the difficult decision to step down. And, in an effort to focus solely on his recovery, he has also taken leave of his duties pertaining to the family’s shipping enterprise.”
“You can’t be serious,” cried Lord DuPont, visibly taken aback .
“Oh, but I am,” Padraic replied. “I understand this news comes as quite a shock. We, too, were surprised by the unforeseen changes, but ultimately, we agree it’s in the best interest of our dear father and the people of Meridian.” He brought a hand to his heart, shut his eyes, and nodded solemnly as if deeply affected by it all, though Rosalind knew better.
“Knowing the amount of responsibility both roles require,” he continued, “my father thought it wisest to divide them amongst the two of us. Considering my sister is prone to seasickness, and I can’t name a single law passed in the last twenty years, we decided to delegate the affairs of the region to her and that of the high seas to me.”
Rosalind didn’t miss the unamused look Ilora leveled at her brother while his cheeky explanation garnered a few titters from the room. As if to appease her, Padraic added, “I jest, of course. In all seriousness, she is Chancellor because she’s the best person for the job. You’ll see soon enough.”
For a moment, Lord DuPont appeared unconvinced. Then, slowly, the tension on his face eased and a thin smile spread across his lips. Lowering into a deep bow, he addressed Ilora.
“Chancellor Mason, if I may, I wish to extend the same offer I gave to Jonathan when he first stepped into the role. Should you need guidance, please do not hesitate to come to me. I have served Denault longer than you’ve been alive and have given counsel to both your father and the late Lord Rashford on many occasions. I am honored and humbled to have consulted on numerous laws that have contributed to the prosperity of our regions under their respective tutelages.”
Rosalind bit the inside of her lip to keep from making a face. She didn’t think anyone had ever sounded less humble and genuine than he did at this very moment .
“Thank you, Lord DuPont,” Ilora replied. “I don’t doubt the advice you might bestow upon me will prove as meaningful as that given to me by my father.”
Lord DuPont puffed out his chest, pleased by her remark. If only he knew what she really meant.
Ilora looked at Jonathan. “Now that that has been settled, shall we continue with the next matter at hand?”
Jonathan nodded and peered down at the papers in front of him. After taking a moment to collect himself, he clasped his hands at his back and looked out at the group of expectant faces.
“As many of you are aware, I recently made the journey to our borderlands, to a town called Ashwind. Though brief, the visit was enlightening in more ways than one.” His gaze flicked briefly to Rosalind. “Of all I discovered while there, two details stand out as pertinent to this evening’s proceedings. Firstly, the import and export of goods in the area is minimal due to a lack of accessible trade routes. And second, the land near the border is more fertile, contributing to higher harvest yields. It’s for this reason their demand for outsourced commodities remains low compared to other parts of the region.”
Like a petulant child, Lord DuPont huffed, “What does any of this have to do with us?”
“As council members, we have a responsibility to serve our people—all of our people—to the best of our abilities, do we not? We have a burgeoning trade industry at our command, yet a significant portion of our population doesn’t benefit from it. To remedy this, Chancellor Mason and I have put in motion efforts to expand trade routes in the borderlands and re-establish intercountry relations with our neighbors to the west.”
Rosalind perked up at this. Had she heard Jonathan correctly? Judging by Lord DuPont’s bulging eyes, she had.
“With Erdesay?” he shrieked. “Why would we even consider such a thing?”
“The expanded trade routes will only be effective if they’re put to use,” Jonathan replied calmly. He made no show of noticing Lord DuPont’s alarm. “Currently, there is a stigma around the borderlands perpetuated by misinformation and its proximity to a magic-wielding nation. A conciliatory gesture like the one we propose would go a long way in helping to overcome it.”
“This is preposterous,” bellowed Lord DuPont, flecks of spit emanating from his mouth.
Jonathan cocked his head. “Is it?”
Rosalind suppressed a smile. He was goading Lord DuPont now, ever so slightly.
The older man glared at him and then looked around the room, expecting others to join him in voicing concern. “Does nobody else agree?”
Rosalind watched his eyes darken when he was met with nothing but averted gazes.
“It appears not,” Jonathan spoke into the silence. “And because we are so certain it has potential, we have invited an emissary from Erdesay’s southern court to join us this evening. They have reviewed the accord and agreed to convey it to King Philip personally.”
He nodded at Padraic, who then disappeared into the adjacent conservatory. Moments later, he returned with someone who was surely not of this world. They looked as if they stepped out of a fairytale. Tall, but not too tall. Lean, with broad shoulders. Their hair was the color of the midday sun, sleek and sweeping with not a strand out of place as they came to rest beside Ilora. They had vibrant amber eyes framed by high cheekbones and full lips that lent a softness to their otherwise chiseled features.
To Rosalind, they were sunshine in human form. It was as if they glowed, though perhaps the offset of their attire made it seem this way. They wore a suit that was black as night, adorned with gold piping and two rows of buttons, which trailed down the length of their chest. Thick, gold embroidery embellished the collar and shoulders of their jacket and wrapped around the cuffs at their wrists and ankles.
“You’re gawking, love,” Valentina murmured in her ear.
Rosalind straightened and attempted to school her face into an expression that betrayed only mild fascination.
Valentina gently patted her forearm. “Don’t worry, I was much the same way when I met them. I’ve been assured most everybody reacts as such. Well, with the exception of dreadful DuPont, that is.”
Sure enough, when Rosalind peered over at Lord DuPont, she saw not an ounce of intrigue. It appeared their sunshine was no match for the putrid cloud of disdain that hovered over him.
“Please welcome Prince Innocenzo, child of King Philip, heir apparent of the southern realm of Erdesay,” Ilora announced before bowing in their direction. “They join us this evening as acting emissary of the King himself.”
Jonathan proceeded to bow, as did Padraic, and before long, the rest of the room followed suit. Except for the DuPonts, that is.
Something about the Prince’s name sounded familiar to Rosalind. Realization dawned on her as she caught the coy grin on Padraic’s face. Enzo was only a nickname. Prince Innocenzo was Padraic’s elusive partner.
“Thank you, Chancellor Rashford, Chancellor Mason, for having me,” said the Prince in a soft, honeyed tone. “It’s an honor to have charge of delivering the accord to my father. Having looked it over myself, I am confident he will find it agreeable.”
“If that’s the case, let us not dally any longer.” Jonathan turned to address the members of the council and their guests. “We ask that you all bear witness to the signing of this multilateral accord as proof that we do so under no un—”
Lord DuPont cleared his throat with unnecessary force.
“Is there something you’d like to say, Lord DuPont?” Jonathan asked without a hint of irritation in his tone. How he was able to keep his composure, Rosalind couldn’t imagine.
Lord DuPont didn’t rush to answer. Instead, he stifled a laugh with the back of his hand. When he was certain he had everyone’s undivided attention, he spoke.
“I commend what you have endeavored to accomplish this evening, Jonathan, I really do. You are eager to prove yourself as a capable leader, and tonight, you had hoped to show us as much. However, regretfully, I must inform you that you’ve put the cart before the horse. Do not blame yourself for it; youth makes brazen men of us all.”
He turned to address Prince Innocenzo. “I apologize, Your Highness, but I am afraid you have come all this way for nothing. A Sauvignian region cannot initiate formal negotiations with a foreign entity without first attaining majority approval within its council.”
Rosalind’s heart dropped at the implication. Meridian’s council had seven members and Denault had six, including Ilora and Jonathan, respectively. If what he was saying was true, at least four from each region would need to be in agreement. Glancing around the room, she wasn’t sure that was possible. Perhaps Jonathan could convince Lord Sene and Lord Aston to vote in line with him, but Lord Armory and Lady Condry? Needless to say, Lord DuPont was out of the question. And that was just within Denault. Rosalind wasn’t familiar enough with the politics in Meridian to gather how likely it was for Ilora to win the favor of her council.
She looked to where Jonathan stood, hands still clasped behind his back. For someone who'd just been informed of an impediment to his plan, he didn't seem particularly bothered.
“I certainly had hoped for tonight to go well,” Jonathan admitted, “which is why I made certain it would.” He reached out and rested a hand atop one of the papers on the table. “Before drafting the accord, Chancellor Mason and I drafted a pact between our regions. In it, we outlined our intentions to expand trade routes in the borderlands, cooperate with farmers near the border to increase agricultural production, and formulate an accord with the southernmost realm of Erdesay.”
Jonathan slid the parchment across the table in the direction of Lord DuPont. “You will note eight signatures at the bottom. Four from Denault and four from Meridian.”
Rosalind gripped Valentina’s hand in astonishment.
“Told you you wouldn’t want to miss this,” she murmured in response.
Lord DuPont rushed to the table and stared at the page before him. He squinted as he scanned the pact, and his expression reminded Rosalind of something Jonathan had once told her. Lord DuPont had advised him against wearing glasses in public because they were a sign of weakness. She wondered if the older man regretted following his own advice, seeing as he looked like he could use a pair right about now.
“You,” he hissed as he spun on his heel and pointed a finger at Lady Condry. “After all I’ve done for you. Your husband left you near destitute, and if it weren’t for me, you would have nothing. How dare you.”
A wide-eyed Lady Condry held out her hands and shook her head wildly. “No, it wasn’t—”
Before she could finish, Lord DuPont ground out, “We had a deal.”
“I made a better one.”
Rosalind followed the voice to where Lord Armory stood.
“I get the right of first refusal on all railroad construction for the newly proposed trade routes. That should keep business steady for the next ten to twenty years. No more having to pander to your whims to win contracts. As you’re one to tout, it’s business. Nothing personal.”
Nothing was more satisfying than watching the color leech from Lord DuPont’s face, though the pallid hue didn’t remain for long. Soon, rage surged through his veins and flooded his face a dark crimson.
“So this is how you intend to run your council, Chancellor?” he said, seething. “By scheming in secret and excluding members from key decisions?”
“Is that not what you’ve done these past eight years? You simply aren’t accustomed to being on the other end.”
It took a moment for Rosalind to discern that Lord Sene had voiced the rebuttal. She hadn’t heard him speak much at the welcome dinner. He seemed content to sit back and observe. Such was not the case tonight.
Lord DuPont shot Lord Sene a murderous glare before turning his attention back to Jonathan. “It appears you have indeed won their favor. Enjoy it while it lasts. And though the die may be cast regarding tonight’s matters, don’t think I will stand by and let this happen again. I shall not be caught unawares a second time.”
“Nor would I expect you to,” Jonathan acknowledged. “I also have no intention of making a habit of this. Moving forward, I am confident we’ll find common ground, as it is in the best interest of Denault that we govern as a united front.”
Lord DuPont scoffed. “We shall see about that. Now, if you don’t mind, Mary and I shall take our leave. It is clear I am not needed here, and the shock and utter betrayal of this evening has no doubt been trying on her delicate constitution.”
“Despiteful is more like it,” Valentina remarked under her breath. Rosalind managed to stifle a laugh but she couldn't quite keep from smiling. Unfortunately, her amusement didn't go unnoticed .
Lord DuPont stopped dead in his tracks and leveled her with a gaze so cold it chilled her bones. “You had best wipe that smile off your face, you insolent, little wen—”
“Lord DuPont,” Jonathan asserted, “you would be wise to consider your next words carefully.”
“And what will you do if I don’t?” The older man sneered.
Jonathan’s face was void of emotion as he met Lord DuPont’s steely gaze, his voice equally unaffected as he spoke. “Something brazen, I suspect.”
Rosalind had never seen Jonathan look so intimidating before. She attributed it to the cool indifference he exuded now, unlike his typically charming and dynamic demeanor. And she wasn’t the only one who felt this way. Though Lord DuPont looked as furious as ever, he did not counter. “We’re leaving, Mary.” He turned on his heel and exited the room.
Lady DuPont lingered in front of Rosalind a moment longer. “My nephew will put you in your place soon enough,” she remarked under her breath.
Rosalind had half a mind to correct her, but she held her tongue and watched the older woman walk away. Better to let Marcus be the one to inform them of her refusal. She didn’t imagine it would go over well. The thought made her smile.
“Well, that went about as well as could be expected,” Jonathan announced wryly, easing the tension left in the DuPonts’ wake. “If there are no other objections, what say we put pen to paper so we can return to the festivities?”
The council members and their guests began to filter out shortly after the ink dried. Soon, only a handful of people were left in the room, Rosalind and Valentina among them. They hadn’t yet moved from their spot against the wall.
“What was Lady DuPont on about?” Valentina asked.
Rosalind grimaced. “I’m not certain you’ll believe me. I can hardly believe it myself. As you said, it's been an eventful evening thus far.”
“Color me intrigued. Very intrigued. But, wait, before you say anything, there’s something I have to tell you.” Valentina’s expression turned grave. “I’m afraid you won’t like it.”
Suddenly, it felt as if the laces of Rosalind’s corset had been pulled unbearably taut. Had she misunderstood Ilora? No, she couldn’t have. Could she?
Valentina rested a hand on Rosalind’s shoulder and bowed her head. “I know it hurts to hear this from me, but the truth is… I was right. I was so fucking right.”
The tightness in Rosalind’s chest gave way as soon as Valentina lifted her head. Gone was the solemn expression she wore moments before. In its place was a cheeky grin. “Should have known better than to doubt me. I know him, I certainly know you, and I know what’s right. How did I know, you ask?” She shrugged. “Because I’m always right. And now you know that, too.”
Rosalind scowled as she batted away Valentina’s hand. “You know what? I could just about punch you right now.”
“Oh, really? First Jonathan, and now you? My, my, what a fearsome match you two will make,” Valentina teased. “But honestly”—she leaned in closer and whispered—“can you imagine if he’d actually swung at DuPont? I would gladly relinquish my title to witness that.”
Rosalind laughed alongside Valentina, unable to feign outrage any longer. Once she’d regained composure, she risked a glance at where Jonathan stood with Ilora, Padraic, and the Prince, hoping they hadn’t noticed them acting like children. But there Jonathan was, watching with an amused expression. He mentioned something to the others and started to make his way over.
“Oh, look, I think Padraic’s calling for me,” Valentina said before giving Rosalind’s arm a reassuring squeeze and slipping away.
And then Jonathan was there, standing in front of her, looking as magnificent as ever.
“Evening, Ros.”
The sound of her name on his tongue made her breath catch in her throat.
“Hello,” she managed to say in return.
“I have to go out and make a few announcements now. But afterward, I was hoping we could talk. Will you meet me in the courtyard in, say, half an hour or so?”
Rosalind nodded. “H-half an hour.”
The small smile he offered in response sent the butterflies in her stomach into a flurry. She really needed to get it together if she had any hope of saying more than a few words at a time.