Chapter Twenty-Two #2
Marrying Oriana Mayles was a means to an end, one he desperately needed to reach by whatever means necessary, and he knew that he would be as good a husband as he could be to her—loyal and kind and devoted.
It would be the least he could offer her—a penance for the salvation she gave him, but it would be just that: penance.
Because if his aunt had never issued her challenge, never handpicked and presented Oriana to him the way she had, he would not want to marry her.
Oh, he liked her well enough, but when he’d proposed to Mavis, he’d done so because he wanted to, because he couldn’t imagine his life without her.
That had been a lie, but the way he felt was real, and illusion or not, how he felt about Oriana Mayles didn’t hold a candle to it.
“I read Affair of the Darkest Heart, Miss Symone,” he told the woman instead of answering her question.
“And I very much enjoyed it. You have a remarkable talent for navigating your characters through the most hopeless of situations to miraculous happy endings, but it is a work of fiction, and things rarely work out so neatly outside of novels.”
“And therein lies the real tragedy.” She gave him a rueful smile before shaking her head and glancing at his aunt, who had gone quiet.
Once Ms. Symone signed the two books Arden bought from Mr. Villier for his aunt’s friends, she went to hand them to Arden, but she didn’t let go right away, instead leaning forward to fix him with a shrewd gaze that felt unnervingly familiar and dropping her voice to a low murmur.
“I do hope you find what you’re looking for, Arden. ”
The last place Mavis wanted to be the day after the Benitez ball was touring her would-be wedding venue with Thaddeus, but when he arrived at the hotel a little after noon and all but ordered her to accompany him, she’d had little choice but to accept.
But as she followed her fiancé up the polished steps of the Temple of Mista on Garlin’s eastern shore, a seed of dread in the pit of her stomach began to take root.
Like every other temple Mavis had seen, the architecture was reminiscent of the ancient temples—the nine tall columns lined up across the front, holding up the slanted roof carved with depictions of the Gods of Old, every inch of it hewn from white marble that gleamed in the midday sun.
It was a relic of a past era, standing out starkly amid the modern manor houses and shops around it with their red brick or stucco exteriors painted in bright colors.
It was also, Mavis had to admit, utterly beautiful.
Thaddeus hadn’t said much in the carriage, and he said even less now as he ushered her inside the cool shade of the temple’s interior—nearly as stark as the outside with only candles to light the cavernous hall.
The only furnishings were a long, plush violet rug that led from the entrance up to the front, a dozen rows of wooden benches on either side, and an enormous statue of Mista, the water goddess, carved from gold, her outstretched hand fashioned into a fountain that poured into the pool below.
The goddess stared down at them with stern eyes.
“This is lovely,” Mavis murmured, unsure if he could even hear her above the sound of the fountain. She looked around the space with wary eyes. “Though I do wish you’d given me the tour before you booked our wedding here.”
It was an easy fight to pick with him, but this time he didn’t rise to take the bait. Instead, he turned to face her, his hands clasped behind his back and his dark-rimmed eyes more sober than Mavis had ever seen them.
“There won’t be a wedding,” he said, his voice quiet but hard edged.
For a single, blissful moment, relief surged through Mavis—he was calling it off after all, her worry had been for nothing—but then her mind caught up, shattering her newfound hope into a million pieces. This doesn’t make sense.
She managed to just hold on to her Delphinia Lindcourt persona, her eyes widening and chin trembling. “Have you had a change of heart, Thaddeus?”
He took a step closer to her, then another, and it took every scrap of self-control Mavis had to stand her ground.
“No, but you have, Mavis.”
This was a nightmare Mavis had periodically over the years, and for a moment she thought this was just that—a nightmare—but she could feel the damp temple air on her skin and smell the thick cloud of cigar smoke that clung to Thaddeus. This wasn’t the sort of nightmare she could wake up from.
Her heart thundered, but she clung to her vapid Delphinia Lindcourt smile. “Oh dear, are you sloshed already, Thaddeus? It’s barely one in the afternoon.”
In the blink of an eye, he lunged toward her, his hand clasping her arm tight enough to leave bruises.
“You made a fool of me once, and that was more than enough,” he snarled. “Do you really believe I’ll let you and Arden Ryskamp swindle my family?”
Mavis tried to wrench her arm out of his grip, but he wouldn’t budge. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she bit out, but as soon as she spoke the words, cold understanding slid into place.