Chapter Eight #2
“I know just what to do.” She set the gray-and-white dress down and picked up another from the pile on the hassock. “How do you feel about satin?”
An hour later, Vesper stood before a full-length mirror, awed by the young woman staring back at her.
She was wearing a striped blue-and-black walking dress with a bustle, and a matching hat.
A lump rose in her throat as her fingertips grazed the impossibly soft fabric.
Never in her life had she worn something so fine, and for the first time she realized that she truly felt like a proper lady. Not an impostor, not an “odd girl.”
“Miss Evans?”
Vesper looked up and found Bisan was smiling at her.
“I take it the dress is to your liking?”
“It is.” Vesper tried to keep the emotion from her voice. “Thank you.”
“It was my pleasure, miss.” Bisan offered a small curtsy. “If you’re ready, we can go back downstairs and show Mr. Kite.”
Vesper followed the modiste out of the fitting room and back down the stairs to the shop’s front parlor, trying not to trip in her new black lace-up boots. She was halfway down when Maximilian’s voice reached her.
“It’s really about time!” he was saying. “If I’d had to wait in this parlor any longer, I was going to launch a separate investigation into Miss Evans’s—”
Vesper reached the last stair, and the sorcerer’s eyes settled on her. She noticed that, today, they were colored the gray of a storm cloud. Her cheeks warmed as he continued to stare, lips parted.
“Goodness,” she murmured. “I didn’t think it was that bad.”
“You look…” Maximilian stared a few seconds longer, then cleared his throat. “Well, you look perfectly suitable. This will do nicely.”
Something reburrowed in Vesper’s chest. She didn’t know why, but the word suitable was oddly disappointing.
Maximilian turned to the modiste. “Bisan, excellent work. I shall arrange for my good friend Guillermo to send a box of macarons as a token of my thanks. They’re the best in the city, I assure you.”
“That’s hardly necessary, Mr. Kite.” Bisan bowed her head, but Vesper thought she saw a touch of amusement in the modiste’s eyes. She looked past the dressmaker, and for the first time noticed that a full tea service had been arranged in the parlor. She addressed Mr. Kite.
“Uh … what is this?”
“Morning tea,” said Maximilian breezily. “I had my footman set it up.”
Vesper looked from the ornate display to the sorcerer, bewildered. Where on earth did he get a table, chairs, and linen? “Isn’t this going to be a hassle for other customers?”
Maximilian waved her off. “Nonsense. I’ve reserved the entire shop for the day. We’ll be fine.” He held out one of the chairs and gestured. “If you please?”
Vesper hesitated, then took a seat. She tried not to think about how absurd it felt.
It was like they were dining in their own private restaurant for two.
She eyed the porcelain teapot and tiny gold-rimmed cups on the table and thought with a pang about the chipped mugs in the Globe’s break room.
This tea set alone likely cost half of what they paid in rent.
Maximilian settled into the chair opposite her and took a quick sip of tea before frowning.
“Oh, that won’t do.” He placed a hand on the pot, concentrated, then muttered a few words in Thaumaric. Instantly, a wisp of steam rose from the pot. “Would you care for tea?” he asked, pouring a second cup. “It’s jasmine.”
Vesper started. Maximilian wouldn’t know that jasmine tea was her favorite, and a delicacy she could rarely afford.
She brought the tiny cup to her lips, and sipped.
A groan nearly escaped her. The tea was divine, floral and just slightly sweet.
She looked up, and noted that a shaft of buttery morning light had found its way into the parlor.
In that light, the sorcerer’s thick curls picked up iridescent shades of violet blue that reminded her of a crow’s wings when it took flight. Maximilian’s brows rose.
“See something you like?”
“Pardon?”
He pointed to a plate between them piled high with spiced pumpkin bars glazed with cream cheese frosting.
“Oh.” Vesper didn’t know why she suddenly felt warm. It must have been the satin. “No, thank you.”
“Now that your wardrobe is taken care of,” he said, “I do have one more matter of business to discuss with you.”
Vesper tensed. “What is it?”
“Just a slight addendum to our previous agreement, it’s really quite minor.
” Maximilian took a long sip of his own tea before he went on.
“As a young, unmarried woman, your sudden appearance in Basalton’s high society crowd is going to raise questions, that’s unavoidable.
We can certainly tell people that you’re from some far-off city like Maplegrove or New Beechley, but if we’re going to be working on this investigation together, we’ll still need a cover story. ”
Vesper kept her eyes on the sorcerer, waiting. She had a feeling she was not going to like what he said next.
“Which is why, Miss Evans, I’d like to court you.”
Vesper nearly dropped her teacup. “You’d like to what?”
“It’s simple.” Maximilian folded his hands and leaned in, apparently unfazed by her reaction. “If I announce that I’m formally courting you, no one will be surprised to see me in your frequent company.”
Vesper set her teacup down slightly harder than intended. The sorcerer had clearly taken leave of his senses. In polite society, formal courtship was the prerequisite to an engagement, to marriage.
“Mr. Kite”—she tried to stay calm—“surely, you’re not being serious.”
“Well, why not?” Maximilian took another sip of tea. “A courtship gives us more than an excuse to spend time together.” He looked amused. “You may not know this, but I’m currently this city’s most eligible bachelor.”
“And clearly its most modest.” Vesper rolled her eyes.
“Once word gets out that I’m off the market, everyone will be clamoring to meet you,” Maximilian went on.
“Basalton’s high society crowd is exclusive, but if they find you interesting, its doors will open right up for you.
You’ll be granted all sorts of premier access that could help the investigation. There’s no downside.”
Vesper sat back. There was no downside, except for the fact that she’d never had so much as a gentleman caller before. The idea of being courted, even if it was just a ploy, made her unspeakably anxious. She thought she’d be willing to do whatever it took to save the Globe, but this?
“When would you start telling people?” Vesper asked quietly.
“It’s already done,” said Maximilian. He sounded like he was discussing a business transaction.
“Last night, I visited the Basalton Men’s Club, and I may have dropped the news of your arrival and our courtship to a few well-placed and rather talkative associates.
The news is probably making its rounds as we speak. ”
“Last night?” Vesper frowned. “But how did you know I’d—?”
“Miss Evans.” Maximilian’s expression turned serious. “It’s just a ruse,” he said. “Once our business is done and you’ve proven my indisputable innocence, I’ll concoct some promiscuous scandal that gives you a valid excuse to call off our courtship while leaving you entirely blameless.”
“Scandal?” Vesper repeated in a small voice.