Chapter Twelve
Which Tends to Be Unpleasantly Moist
Though the darkness had eased as the unseen sun crept higher in the sky, it wasn’t bright. From Mitch’s new position, the window was now behind Tasia when she looked at him, or in profile when she didn’t. It was clear to him that she thought the lack of light hid her reactions to his probing.
In the two-and-a-half months or so that he had known her, Tasia had proven unable to hide her thoughts.
Everything she felt or thought was obvious in her face and posture.
She tried to hide some of it, like when she gave him a partial version of how she came to be in Boschivo, but for as much as he disliked people in general, he studied them.
Understanding how to tell when someone was lying or attempting to manipulate him had saved his bacon on more than one occasion.
And Tasia was more fascinating than other people.
He was a willing pupil when it came to her.
At the moment, she gnawed on her lip and hunched down on her cushion.
She wouldn’t look in his direction and seemed to be steeling herself.
Taking it slow, Mitch reached out his hand to rest it on hers.
She jumped, then flipped her hand over to intertwine their fingers.
The automatic response filled Mitch’s chest with something warm and fluttery.
He sternly reminded himself to focus on her feelings, not his.
Being as gentle as he knew how, he squeezed her fingers and said, “Hey. I worked for a guy who thought using filemu to enslave people was a good idea. I bet you can’t top that.”
A weak laugh told him that Tasia would be fine.
“Maybe not that bad. But you left him, so I know you aren’t that bad, either.”
No one had defended Mitch since his mother passed. The affection he had been avoiding surged within him, refusing to be denied. With effort, he pushed it aside. “Will you tell me the full story?”
A full-body sigh left her. “Yes. You should have the whole truth.” She sat up straighter, and he admired her courage. “As you may have noticed, I’m not that bright—”
Sheer indignation on her behalf blazed through him. “Who told you that outrageous lie?!” he growled, remembering to keep his voice down at the last second.
Mitch recognized the look she shot him as one of pity, which was laughable in this situation. “My family has been pointing it out for years. You’ve seen how often I get lost.”
“That doesn’t mean you’re stupid! You’re just thinking about something else.” He saw the outline of the frown that marred her delicate features as she looked away. “Yes, thinking! You don’t walk around empty-headed.”
Tasia opened her mouth, no doubt to refute his claim, so Mitch pulled out an example to illustrate his point. “Who thought of wetting and heating the filemu to reduce its potency?”
“We don’t even know if it works yet!” she protested.
He gave their connected hands a little shake. “But we will soon, and neither Frank nor I thought of anything remotely useful there.” Mitch leaned toward her. “You may think differently than your family, but you are not stupid.”
She took a slow, deep breath as she stared at him. The clouds were winning the battle with the late-autumn sun, and her eyes were hard to see again. Mitch hoped she was considering his words.
“Maybe I’m not completely dumb in everything, but let me finish explaining. I think you’ll change your mind about it in this regard.”
Disappointment nipped at Mitch when he heard the resigned dejection in her tone.
She had been believing this lie for too long to give it up without a fight.
He pulled her other hand into his lap and wrapped both of hers firmly in his large ones.
If only he could transfer his more accurate perception of her through the simple touch.
Tasia began explaining how the Stones were having money troubles after her father’s—or stepfather’s, rather—death.
Mitch kept his thoughts to himself during this portion, but it sounded to him like her mother and sisters were the real cause of that trouble.
If they had pulled back on their extravagant lifestyle, the yearly allowance should have been sufficient until her baby brother, Gus, came into his majority.
Something in Tasia’s tone suggested that she held a similar belief, but either her self-doubt or loyalty to her family prevented her from voicing it.
“Anyway, Mother came up with a plan.” Her hand twitched in his. “If Prince Charming is famous for getting out of work, his brother is even more famous for . . . his soft heart.”
The way she had finished that description had him asking what she meant.
She huffed. “Mother once said, ‘Prince Frank is incapable of walking past a drowning puppy or a lost cause.’” Tasia shifted her weight, and Mitch loosened his grip in case she wanted to pull back, then held in his smile when she didn’t move away.
“The nobles all know that a sob story told to Prince Frank will go further than applying to his father for anything.”
“He didn’t seem gullible to me,” Mitch said, loath to credit the man but needing to be fair.
Tasia shrugged. “It was Mother’s idea to use Cindy to catch the prince’s attention. The orphaned stepdaughter forced to be a servant in her own home was a perfect lure. I’m sorry to say Prince Frank bought their lies at first.”
Mitch opened his mouth, but closed it when she continued.
“I think he was becoming suspicious, but the Fae Ball came too soon.” She slipped one of her hands free to scratch her nose and push a lock of hair behind her ear. “Do you know anything about the Fae Ball?”
“Um—” He folded her hand between his again when she put it back. “I’ve heard of it. It happens every year, but some years, it makes any statement a magical vow? Or something like that.”
“It was one of the vow years, and my sisters were planning how to get Prince Frank to agree to a betrothal during the ball.” She made a small, pained noise. “But I didn’t think it was really fair for him to be tricked into marrying her if it wasn’t his idea—”
“Because you are very intelligent,” Mitch inserted, as he lifted her hands and placed a quick kiss on her knuckles.
The darkness hid the blush that he suspected, and she plowed on after a brief stutter.
“—S-so I told him what they were planning, and he was able to confirm it somehow.” Her voice smoothed out as she spoke.
“So he didn’t escort Cindy to the ball, but she went anyway, and stuff happened so she married Prince Charming instead. ”
Mitch bit the inside of his cheek to keep from sharing aloud the sentiment that the Stones had failed successfully.
“Then Prince Frank let them know that I had told him everything, and nobody was very happy.”
Well, well. Ol’ Frank isn’t that perfect, after all.
“For days—no, weeks after that,” Tasia continued, unaware of Mitch’s uncharitable thought, “my mother and sisters explained to me, in great detail, how badly I messed up.” A wince hunched her shoulders.
“I might be good with small children, but I don’t understand the nuance necessary for navigating high society.
Apparently, all the nobles play these games.
It’s expected. I’m just too dumb to realize I’m too dumb to play them. ”
Tasia pulled back her hands, looking utterly despondent. She rubbed one hand up and down the other arm and stared at the floor, refusing to make eye contact.
Mitch knew he needed to tread with great care. After a minute of contemplation, he approached it from the side. “Did—or do you have many friends amongst the nobility?”
Confusion creased her face, more visible at the moment as the clouds thinned. Then she looked directly at him. “We mostly spent time with the lowest level of nobles. But yes, I had friends.”
“Close friends?”
She flinched, and he regretted asking. “I thought so. But nobody answered my letters after I messed up.”
“Your letters?” he questioned. “Didn’t you see them in person?”
“Oh, no. Mother was so ashamed of my behavior, she wouldn’t let me leave the house.”
A suspicion sparked in his mind. “From what you’ve told me, your mother sounds . . . pretty crafty. Is it at all possible that she intercepted your letters?”
Another frown creased her brow; then a pained sort of hope cleared it. “Are you saying they didn’t abandon me?”
He shrugged, unable to make unequivocal statements about folks he didn’t know.
“Well. Are your friends the sort of people who play those games? If you were unaware of them, maybe it’s because your friends don’t behave that way.
Which would mean that not everyone plays them.
” Mitch watched her even more intently as he added the next part.
“Maybe your mother and sisters misled you.”
Several emotions fought for dominance in Tasia’s face and posture. “I would love to think that my friends still like me. But I would hate for that to mean that my mother doesn’t. Do you think they miss me?”
“Your friends?”
Tasia spoke over his reply, rubbing both arms and talking more to herself than to him. “I mean, I haven’t missed them that much, apart from Gus. I thought I was just a terrible person. Who doesn’t miss their own family? But—” She cut off the unsteady flow of words and looked at him.
“But what if some part of you knew that they didn’t care for you the same way, and you were just protecting yourself?” Mitch finished for her in a slow voice.
She nodded—a lethargic, jerky movement that tore at his heart.
“Well,” he started after a brief pause to scramble for words. “More proof that you aren’t dumb.”
Her answering laugh was tinged with tears. Apprehensive about a full-blown sobfest, Mitch tried to head off the storm by offering hope. “Maybe the prince can help you get in touch with your friends.”