Chapter Eight #2
“Then, to be frank, Llewellyn Everett is dull and vapid, and spending hours in his company is tantamount to torture.” Mavis noted how the corners of Oriana’s mouth twitched as if fighting a laugh—the closest she’d come to losing her polite mask.
Encouraged, she continued. “You have no intention of marrying him—or any of the other men your brother lines up for you to chase away one by one.”
Oriana didn’t lose her smile, but her nostrils flared.
“I know it’s quite common for married women to dole out advice for those of us who find ourselves unattached, but I did think it would take you a little longer to gain such marital wisdom, Delphinia.
You’ve only been engaged for a single day, after all. ”
Though she kept her voice light, there was a thorny edge to Oriana’s words, and Mavis was surprised to find she liked the other woman more because of it.
Mavis held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “The only advice I intend to give is that you can do far better than Llewellyn Everett, Oriana, and I hardly think it qualifies as advice since you already know it to be true.”
Oriana sat back, blinking her wide gray eyes in surprise. “I don’t think I can do better than Llewellyn. But that doesn’t mean I would make him a good wife—I know that, even if he doesn’t, and one day he’ll thank me for . . . diverting his interest.”
“And why is that?” Mavis asked. Even beyond her arrangement with Arden, she was curious to hear the answer.
Thaddeus complained often about his sister’s finicky nature, how she rejected all the suitors he paraded before her, but Mavis wondered if it had ever occurred to him to ask Oriana that question himself.
By the way Oriana’s mouth pursed in surprise, Mavis suspected he hadn’t. Oriana cleared her throat, her eyes skittering away from Mavis’s to look toward the window, open to let in the sea breeze that caused the lace curtains to billow with a life of their own.
“Because I want more,” she said softly.
“More than what?” Mavis pressed.
Oriana’s gaze returned to her. “Do you love my brother, Delphinia?”
No, of course not, Mavis thought, but that was her answer, not Delphinia’s.
“Of course I do.” Mavis summoned her Delphinia Lindcourt smile, empty and vapid. “I knew it from the moment I met him.”
Mavis was an excellent liar—she had honed her skills on the streets of Strall and in Luster ballrooms, and those skills hadn’t failed her in years, except with Arden last night at Montenari’s, though that was surely just a fluke, but when Oriana searched her face, Mavis felt certain that her lies were as transparent as cut crystal.
Before she could worry too much, though, Oriana nodded.
“Then you understand. I want love—the kind of breathtaking romance that makes a woman do something utterly mad, like agree to marry a man she barely knows, to move halfway across the world to a strange city where she is a stranger to everyone she meets. Llewellyn can’t give me that, and it’s no fault of his. ”
“No, I don’t imagine he can.” The gears of Mavis’s mind turned.
Leif was wrong—this wouldn’t be more difficult than her past cons.
It might even be all the easier. Oriana wanted a fantasy, and while that might be a difficult thing to create in any real way, the illusion of it was easy enough.
If Oriana wanted a love straight from the pages of one of her books, Arden could play that role to perfection. Under Mavis’s direction, of course.
“What you need is a handsome stranger,” Mavis told her. “And they are admittedly in scarce supply in Garlin. I’m sure it’s difficult to be swept away by the same boys you’ve known your whole life. If you want adventure, you’ll have to look a bit farther afield.”
Oriana’s eyebrows raised. “How simple you make it sound.”
“Perhaps it is.” Mavis smiled as if the idea only just occurred to her. “At Montenari’s last night, Philomena Gellis was dining with her great-nephew, a Mr. Arden Ryskamp. He’s visiting her from Strall for the remainder of summer, since her health has taken a turn for the worse.”
Oriana laughed—louder than what might be considered polite. Arden had mentioned the disaster of their meeting, but she’d assumed he was exaggerating. Perhaps not.
“Yes, I met Mr. Ryskamp this morning. He is very kind to take care of his aunt,” Oriana said, once she’d gotten a hold of her laughter.
“But I do not think he’s for me either, Mi—Delphinia.
” She leaned forward, placing her hand over Mavis’s.
“I know you mean well, but I’d rather you not trouble yourself on my account.
You have your own wedding to think of, after all. I can handle my own courtships.”
Gentle as the words were, Mavis heard the censure in them all the same.
“Of course you can.” Mavis pretended an abashed smile. “And I will keep my nose out of it, I promise, but first I would be remiss not to ask that you not judge Mr. Ryskamp so quickly,” she added, an idea coming to her. “He isn’t quite himself these days.”
Oriana blinked, surprised. “I didn’t know you two were acquainted.”
“Oh, not very well.” Mavis waved a hand dismissively, making up the story as she went. “We crossed paths when my brother was building a hotel in Strall, but as I understand it, he’s taking his aunt’s ill health to heart.”
Oriana clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “Well, he would, wouldn’t he, given how recently he’s lost his father?”
It was Mavis’s turn to be surprised, her mouth taking a moment to catch up with her thoughts.
Mavis remembered Nathaniel Ryskamp from five years before.
He’d struck her as a titan of a man, the encapsulation of wealth, power, and good breeding, but he’d been funnier than she’d expected him to be, always quick with a joke or a story that was undoubtedly heavily exaggerated but too entertaining for anyone to call him out on it.
He’d been warm too, eager to welcome her into their lives and never once suspecting she was anything other than what she claimed.
My wife and I always wanted a daughter, he’d told Mavis when she and Arden shared their engagement. Even now she could feel the ghost of his hands squeezing hers, see the twinkle in his twilight-blue eyes that reminded her of Arden’s. And I will count myself lucky to call you that, Miss Strickland.
Mavis pushed the memory away, trying to ignore the discomfort that trailed after it like a shadow. She cleared her throat.
“I hadn’t heard the elder Mr. Ryskamp passed,” she managed when she found her voice.
Oriana nodded, her brow furrowing. “Six months ago. Mrs. Gellis mentioned it before he joined us for tea this morning. It is an awful thing—I understand how he must feel.”
That she did—Oriana and Thaddeus had lost their own parents three years ago, mere weeks apart.
“As do I,” she said softly since, as far as Oriana or most of Garlin knew, both of her parents were dead.
Mavis knew that if Arden were here, he would be horrified at the words that came out of Mavis’s mouth next, but he had hired her to get a job done, and she couldn’t afford to be precious about how she did it.
“We must be particularly kind to him, then, mustn’t we? ”
Oriana nodded. “Of course.”
“He’ll need friends, especially since he knows so few people here, don’t you agree?” Mavis pressed.
Oriana bit her lip. “I do. So long as you aren’t expecting me to offer anything more than friendship.”
Mavis affected a scandalized expression, even though that was precisely what she was aiming for. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Oriana pursed her lips, eyeing Mavis warily as if she didn’t believe her. “I’m facing enough pressure to marry from Thaddeus, Delphinia—I don’t need you to add to it.”
Mavis shook her head. “Thaddeus means well, but he doesn’t understand courtship in the same way we do. I only thought to help, but I have no desire to meddle.”
Oriana didn’t appear convinced, so Mavis tried another route. “I think I can speak for your brother as well when I say that all we want is for you to be happy and start a life of your own. If you want your great love, you won’t find it in your books.”
At that, Oriana laughed. “Perhaps you aren’t reading the right books.”
She was likely right about that. “A book makes a lousy dance partner, I’d imagine,” she said rather than admit as much. “And they can’t be any fun to kiss.”
Oriana laughed again, taking herself by surprise. She lifted a hand to cover her mouth, as if she could force the sound back in.
“Delphinia,” she chided.
Mavis allowed a wicked smile. “What? Sisters speak frankly, remember?”
Oriana glanced down at the book still half hidden behind the pillow. “Very well, then. I will offer Mr. Ryskamp my friendship and my commiseration—but I make no promises beyond that.”
“That’s all I ask,” Mavis said, getting to her feet. “I’m sorry I can’t stay longer—I’ve got a dress-fitting for the ball that I can’t miss, but do tell your brother I stopped by.”
Oriana promised she would. Mavis hadn’t even reached the library door before Oriana was engrossed in her book again.