Chapter Nine #3
Arden cleared his throat, a flush working its way up his neck. “I’d like to apologize again for the last time we met. I do hope no permanent damage was done to your dress?”
“Hmm?” Oriana’s eyes trailed to the tall grandfather clock at the edge of the room, no doubt counting down the roughly forty-four minutes remaining until her half of the bargain was through. “Oh, my maid handled the matter—no harm was done, I assure you.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Arden followed Oriana’s wandering gaze to the clock before casting Mavis a bemused look.
If she’d been unclear about why, exactly, Arden thought he needed her help before, Mavis was getting a clear picture now.
He was nothing like the Arden she remembered from five years ago, the one who could make a girl swoon with only a smile.
That Arden could have charmed a statue into a dance, but the Arden standing before her now was stilted, a vaguely pained expression on his face, his discomfort clinging to him like cheap cologne.
“Mr. Ryskamp looks very sharp tonight, doesn’t he, Oriana?” Mavis asked brightly, as if she might lighten the atmosphere through sheer force of will.
Oriana dragged her attention back to them, casting an appraising look over Arden.
“He does.” She must have felt Mavis’s annoyance because she summoned a smile that only looked somewhat forced.
“That blue cravat really does match your eyes perfectly, Mr. Ryskamp. I would believe it if you told me your tailor had it dyed that shade intentionally.”
Arden’s fingers grazed the silk at his throat, and he returned her smile, though Mavis saw that it was too strained to be genuine.
“You give both my tailor and me too much credit, Miss Mayles.” Another awkward silence fell, but this time it was Arden who Mavis wanted to kick.
She settled instead for nudging him discreetly with her elbow.
He took the hint. “Miss Lindcourt mentioned your love of reading. As I’m spending a good deal of time at home with my aunt, I would appreciate any recommendations you have.”
A spark of interest danced in Oriana’s eyes, and she drew herself up a little straighter, taking in Arden with an appraising eye. It was exactly the way Mavis wanted Oriana to look at Arden, but she still had to force her grip on her champagne coupe to relax before she shattered it.
“That’s an impossible question to answer without knowing what sort of books you enjoy, Mr. Ryskamp. History? Adventure? Poetry?”
“Oh, I read a bit of everything,” Arden told her. “Though I have just started a delightful book—Affair of the Darkest Heart. Do you know it?”
Oriana’s gaze sharpened, and she looked between Arden and Mavis. “Affair of the Darkest Heart,” she repeated, suspicion lacing her words.
Arden nodded. “That’s the one. In fact, I’ve just reached the part where the heroine goes out to find her lost dog in the middle of a storm and the hero is furious that he has to go and search for her, though I suspect he’s worried as well.”
“Your suspicion is correct,” Oriana said, softening. “I’ve read it myself. Do you truly think it’s delightful? Most men give books like that one a wide berth. What was it Thaddeus said a few weeks ago, Delphinia?”
Mavis grimaced but obliged in repeating the words. “I believe he said that romances were for simpering wallflowers destined for a life of spinsterhood with only an army of cats to keep them company.”
Oriana’s smile turned wry. “Ah yes, that was it.”
Arden laughed. “No offense intended to Mr. Mayles, but I don’t consider myself a simpering wallflower, and I much prefer dogs to cats, though I suppose I prefer both to a good many people.”
Oriana didn’t reply, but her mouth pulled into a small smile, one she seemed to be fighting.
“You don’t strike me as a wallflower either, Miss Mayles,” he added.
“Being a wallflower seems to be a privilege I’m not entitled to,” she mused. “Though I am approaching spinsterhood, and the only thing keeping me from amassing a battalion of cats is a dreadfully inconvenient allergy to them.”
Mavis watched the conversation unfold with interest. Though he’d gotten off to a shaky start, Arden seemed to make up for it as he went on.
Perhaps he didn’t need her help after all, though she supposed both the cravat Oriana complimented and the conversation about books had been her suggestions.
Still, it was difficult to imagine he wouldn’t have done just fine without her once he relaxed a bit.
Confidence was at the heart of every con, and courting Oriana Mayles was no exception.
Feeling the need to prove her worth, Mavis looked toward Oriana. “If my memory serves, Mr. Ryskamp is an excellent dancer. All the ladies used to fight over him as a partner back in Strall.”