Chapter Nine
Compared to the bustling city of Strall, Garlin was quiet, but when Arden and his aunt arrived at the Mayleses’ home to celebrate the engagement of Thaddeus Mayles and Delphinia Lindcourt, he found a ball that would rival any of Strall’s notorious parties.
Inside the grand ballroom, they were greeted by music from a string quartet while dozens of people milled through the space in glittering gowns and pristinely tailored suits.
The main difference between this ball and the ones Arden attended in Strall was that while in Strall there would be double the attendees, he would know each one, by name and reputation at the very least. Here in Garlin, Arden was surrounded by strangers who cast furtive glances in his direction, somehow both appraising and suspicious at once.
“Chin up, Arden.” His aunt patted the arm she held on to. “If one of us is approaching the gallows, it’s me.”
Surprised again at her frank words, Arden let out an uncomfortable snort.
“Goodness—I do hope you won’t make that awful sound in front of Miss Mayles. The jam incident did enough damage as it is.”
Arden felt a fresh wave of embarrassment, but there was too much amusement in her words for them to truly count as a rebuke.
The thought of Oriana Mayles made him uneasy.
In the week since he made his deal with Mavis, he’d learned more about Miss Mayles and her spurned suitors through the gossip columns in the daily papers that his aunt had conspicuously left at his place at the breakfast table each morning.
Apparently, she had rejected yet another suitor, a Mr. Everett, who was seen leaving her home several days ago looking irritated, bouquet of flowers still in hand.
The paper even referred to her as Miss Persnickety and claimed that Mr. Everett was the sixth suitor she’d turned away since the start of the season, which made Arden feel even less confident about his own chances at winning her hand, though he did have Mavis on his side, tentative as her support might be.
She sent him a letter, as promised, telling him she would reintroduce him to Oriana tonight and offering suggestions for a conversation she might find amenable: Ask her what she’s reading at the moment.
Tell her the story about the time you rescued your neighbor’s cat from the tree.
Wear a dark-blue cravat, you always did look dashing in dark blue.
The last bit of advice hadn’t pertained to conversation, but he’d followed her instruction all the same, ignoring the peculiar sense of pleasure that Mavis found him dashing.
That, it seemed, hadn’t been a lie. Along with the note, she’d sent a book she claimed Oriana enjoyed, telling him to read it.
Arden had managed a couple of chapters so far, but his aunt had been keeping him busy over the last week, having him escort her to a bevy of teas and dinner parties, and he hadn’t had much spare time for reading.
“I doubt Miss Mayles has your dark sense of humor, Aunt Phi,” Arden said now, which might be true, though from what little he’d read of Affair of the Darkest Heart, it seemed Oriana Mayles was full of surprises.
His aunt gave a dramatic sigh. “Alas, perhaps she isn’t perfect after all. Still, you need someone who will carry on the family line, and my sense of humor didn’t help me in that regard.”
Once again, she spoke the words plainly, but Arden glanced sideways at her, wondering if there was more behind the statement than self-deprecation.
She’d said during their first dinner that not having children ended up suiting her and her husband well, but it couldn’t have been so simple for her when so much pressure was put on young Luster couples to procreate as much as they could to keep their lineages from dying out.
Perhaps she was being truthful about not wanting children of her own, but that didn’t mean it had been an easy path for her to walk.
Maybe that was part of why she was so determined to see him settled and on the way to another generation of Ryskamps—a way of atoning for what many people must have considered a catastrophic failure on her part.
“Careful, Arden,” his aunt warned, her voice softening. “The way you’re looking at me is getting frightfully close to pity.”
Arden tore his gaze away from his aunt and stared ahead instead, his eyes sweeping the room. “Don’t be silly, Aunt Phi—what is there to pity in you? It’s Miss Lindcourt I pity—it will be quite embarrassing for her to be upstaged at her own engagement party. You’re the belle of the ball.”
A blush stole over his aunt’s cheeks. “Too far, you scoundrel,” she told him, but Arden saw the small smile pulling at her mouth. “Save some of that charm for Miss Mayles.”
That was enough to sap the good humor from Arden, and he scanned the room, searching for golden-blond hair and placid gray eyes.
Familiar laughter found him first, and Arden craned his head, already knowing who it belonged to even before he saw Mavis standing at the center of a small crowd, holding court with her fiancé and half a dozen others.
Not Mavis. Delphinia Lindcourt. She played the part of a Lucent socialite well, Arden had to admit.
Last week, he’d chided himself for ever believing her lies, but now he understood.
The woman standing before him was an entirely different person than the one he’d come across on the beach that morning.
It was in the way she carried herself, in the cadence of her voice and the gentle curve of her smile.
I earned twenty thousand solas, she’d said after he accused her of stealing that sum from him.
Arden still didn’t agree with her logic, but if he were to squint, he could almost see her point.
She was working harder than any other guest in the ballroom ever had.
If only she applied that talent to make an honest living, he might even admire her for it.
She looked beautiful in a lilac organza gown that flowed over her fair, freckled skin like thick smoke, curling around the curve of her waist and the flare of her hips, with her copper hair coiffed and styled into tight curls set with pearls and jewels that twinkled in the light of the chandelier overhead.
Beautiful, yes, but Arden couldn’t deny that he preferred her as he’d found her on the beach last week, in the light of the morning sun, draped in her dressing gown with her hair unspooled and wild, all soft curves, sharp words, and illicit temptation.
She must have felt him watching her because she suddenly met his gaze, looking, for just the barest instant, like she’d been caught unaware. Just as quickly, though, the surprise was gone and she was back to speaking with an older woman, as if Arden wasn’t there at all.
Mavis.
Those five letters had been burned into his thoughts since he first heard them spoken aloud, and when he was alone, he couldn’t resist testing out the shape and taste of the name until it threatened to drive him mad.
Despite what she’d said about names meaning nothing, learning it felt like a key turning in a lock with a satisfying click, opening a new facet of who she was.
It was dangerous to allow himself to believe that he understood her, though. Five years ago, he’d believed he knew her as well as he knew himself, but that had proven to be a folly.
“Are you thirsty, Aunt? Shall I fetch you some lemonade?” he offered.
“Hmm?” His aunt’s gaze was distracted as she took in the room. “Oh, yes, but do make it champagne.”
His aunt released his arm, stepping toward a group of women who looked to be near her own age, and Arden set off toward the drink table near the back of the ballroom, where tall glasses of lemonade and coupes of champagne were set out.
Before he’d made it halfway there, he caught sight of Thaddeus Mayles placing a hand on the small of Mavis’s back, leaning down to murmur something in her ear.
The possessive touch had no business bothering Arden, but it did.
He pushed any notion of jealousy aside and was just reaching for two coupes when Thaddeus Mayles appeared at his elbow, taking a glass himself.
“You’re Mrs. Gellis’s nephew, aren’t you?” he said to Arden without preamble, offering a congenial smile that didn’t quite hide his bemusement.
“I am.” Arden forewent the drinks to shake Thaddeus’s proffered hand. “Arden Ryskamp.”
“Thaddeus Mayles.”
Arden was well aware of the man’s name, but he pretended to only just learn it. “Of course, Mr. Mayles—I understand congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you.” Thaddeus glanced over his shoulder to where Mavis was standing in conversation with two young women Arden didn’t recognize. “Delphinia mentioned your paths crossed in Strall, of all places.”
Arden’s smile tightened. It made sense Mavis would make up some lie to hide the familiarity between them, but he was still caught off guard.
He wondered if he was being interrogated or it merely felt that way because he had to keep his lies and Mavis’s straight.
He wished he didn’t have to—here this man was in the same position Arden had been in five years ago, unaware of the heartbreak and embarrassment that would come for him soon.
Arden pitied him, and, even more, he felt guilty that he wasn’t doing anything to prevent it.
If things had been different, he would have no qualms about revealing Mavis’s true identity and the con she was currently running on the man in front of him.
It was only his own selfishness keeping him quiet.
But even though that knowledge sat poorly with him, he quite literally could not afford to change his mind.