Chapter Sixteen #2
“There’s your sister,” Mavis said before she could stop herself, drawing Thaddeus’s attention to where the trio stood. “Let’s have them sit with us.”
Before Thaddeus could protest, Mavis waved Arden, Oriana, and Mrs. Gellis over toward them.
“Delphinia, the last thing I want is to act as my sister’s chaperone,” Thaddeus hissed. “I believe Mrs. Gellis is more than capable in that regard.”
Mavis ignored him. If it annoyed Thaddeus, all the better, but perhaps she could also convince him that Arden would make his sister a good husband, no matter how little money he currently had to his name.
“Miss Lindcourt, Mr. Mayles,” Arden said when he, Oriana, and his aunt reached their row. “It’s good to see you both—do you mind if we join you?” He gestured to the seats beside Mavis.
“Not at all,” she said, before Thaddeus could say otherwise. “We would be delighted.”
Arden moved to sit beside Mavis, but his aunt nudged him out of the way. “I insist on sitting beside Miss Lindcourt.” Her voice brokered no argument as she lowered herself down with a heaving sigh.
Mavis smiled at the woman, though her suspicions were raised.
Mrs. Gellis had never shown any interest in her before.
Even at the first ball she attended in Garlin, when she showed off her faux illusions and most everyone present had fawned over her for it, Mrs. Gellis alone seemed thoroughly unimpressed.
Mavis hadn’t thought much of it—Mrs. Gellis wasn’t her target, after all—but it did make her sudden attention disconcerting.
“I wouldn’t have it any other way, Mrs. Gellis,” she told the woman. “Are you excited to see this year’s pageant?”
“Gods of Old, of course I’m not,” Mrs. Gellis said as Arden settled into the seat beside her, Oriana next to him.
“In my little remaining time, the very last thing I want to do is watch dozens of brats parade their underwhelming gifts while their parents preen and fuss like their spawn is the second coming of the gods themselves.”
Mavis had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
Arden gave her an amused smile. “I did tell you that you were welcome to stay home, Aunt. You were the one who insisted on attending.”
Mrs. Gellis gave a harrumph loud enough to draw the stares of several people around them. She leaned toward Mavis, lowering her voice. “Someone has to see that my nephew knows how to court a girl properly, Miss Lindcourt.”
Arden, who was speaking with Oriana, seemed to hear her perfectly well anyway, giving his aunt a stern look that she ignored.
Mavis smothered another laugh and glanced at Arden, who had gone back to talking with Oriana.
It was difficult to tell how genuine Oriana’s interest in Arden was, but while Mavis noticed the telltale shape of a book hidden in the folds of her skirt, she made no move to withdraw it and begin reading, something Mavis had seen her do on no fewer than three outings with other suitors.
“He seems to be doing just fine,” Mavis whispered back to Arden’s aunt, which was met with a noncommittal grunt as she waved over a waiter carrying a tray of champagne flutes. Mrs. Gellis took one glass, her eyes going to the still mostly full glass in Mavis’s hand.
She tsked. “Now, now, Miss Lindcourt—trust me, this is no occasion to be sober. Drink up, and you can thank me when this tiresome ordeal is over and you managed not to claw your eyes out from boredom.”
Mavis would have demurred, preferring to keep her wits about her when she was around the Lusters, but then Thaddeus coughed, giving her a sideways glance that reeked of disapproval.
“I’m sure that isn’t wise, Mrs. Gellis. One glass is plenty for my fiancée,” he said with a bland smile Mrs. Gellis didn’t bother pretending to return.
She did, however, let out a laugh when Mavis ignored him, downing her remaining champagne in a single gulp and reaching for a second from the waiter’s tray.
As Mrs. Gellis touched the rim of her flute to Mavis’s with an impish smile, Mavis smiled back. If Thaddeus was hoping to show off his prim and proper Luster fiancée today, he was going to be gloriously disappointed.
By the time the pageant began, Arden’s aunt was on her fourth glass of champagne, and she’d cajoled Mavis into matching her sip for sip.
He trusted that Mavis could handle herself.
His aunt and her failing heart were more of a concern, but he knew better by now than to attempt to stop her from drinking more.
She would simply accuse him of spoiling her fun and have a fifth and sixth glass just to spite him.
Still, he was relieved when the waiters disappeared and a hush fell over the crowd, indicating the show was about to begin.
Arden had witnessed or participated in the annual summer pageant in Strall every year since he could remember, and as soon as the first children hurried onstage, breathless with excitement and bursting with untrained power, he realized that despite the change in location, this would be the same old show he’d seen nearly two dozen times in Strall.
The children were dressed in white togas that made them look like their ancient ancestors, with green laurel crowns atop their heads.
“Oho!” one boy who looked around ten called out, holding his hand to his brow and peering out at the audience. “We wretched humans are doomed!”
“Doomed!” the other children echoed, with varying levels of woe.
“What chaos is wrought upon us!” a young girl chimed in.
“Chaos!” the children echoed again.
“What trub . . . trubu . . .” an even younger boy stammered.
“Tribulation,” the first girl hissed, loud enough that Arden had no trouble hearing it from where he sat.
Apparently, Mavis had no trouble hearing it either, because she burst into a giggle.
While the children onstage didn’t notice, already shouting the echoed word, the sound drew stares from other audience members that ranged from bemused to censorious.
Thaddeus leaned toward her, hissing words that Arden could not hear but could guess at all the same, though she looked unbothered by whatever he said.
More than that, she looked smug. And just like that, Arden understood exactly what she was doing and why she was doing it.
As far as he was concerned, Thaddeus was getting off easy—going back five years before, Arden would have much preferred a drunken outburst of inopportune laughter to the saga of petty arguments, ludicrous ultimatums, and slammed doors.
Then again, if Arden were in Thaddeus’s position now, he wouldn’t be put out with his fiancée—he would be right beside her, every bit as sloshed and having the time of his life.
“Is Miss Lindcourt all right?” Oriana murmured, leaning toward him and keeping her voice whisper soft. The scent of summer flowers clung to her skin, perfectly pleasant, though it didn’t overwhelm his senses and drive him to distraction the way lemons seemed to. That was, he supposed, for the best.
“I’m sure she is,” Arden whispered back. “Your brother is with her, after all.”