Chapter Twenty-Two #3
Last night, on the beach, she thought she smelled Thaddeus’s cigar smoke just before she and Arden kissed.
If he’d been close enough for her to smell him, he’d have overheard their conversation before.
She racked her mind, trying to remember exactly how much Thaddeus might have heard, but it didn’t matter—he knew her true name, and that was a bell she couldn’t unring, no matter how many clever lies she tried to spin.
“You have it wrong,” she said through gritted teeth.
He smiled down at her, but there was no mirth in it. “Then prove me wrong. Prove that you aren’t a vile Lack nobody. Go on.”
But Mavis couldn’t—with him holding her arm so tightly, she couldn’t reach her bracelet, and even if she could, she doubted a show of lights would do much. Illusions only worked to show people what they wanted to see, and Thaddeus Mayles no longer wanted to see Delphinia Lindcourt.
“I thought so,” Thaddeus spat, shoving her away from him so hard that Mavis stumbled before catching her balance. He raked his hand through his hair as he stalked across the temple, beginning to pace.
Panic tightened like a vise around her chest. Her mind whirled, searching for an exit, a way to wriggle out of this situation, but for the first time in her life, there wasn’t one.
Thaddeus had her—he knew her name, he knew she wasn’t Luster, and he knew she never intended to marry him.
Even if she managed to get away before he alerted the police, she wouldn’t be able to run for long with the betrothal mark spreading over her hand more and more each day.
No, Mavis was done for. All she could do now was ensure that she didn’t bring Rafe and Leif down with her.
As soon as she thought that, Thaddeus’s words came back to her: Do you really believe I’ll let you and Arden Ryskamp swindle my family?
Her stomach turned—Arden might have his true Luster blood to protect him, but how much good would that do?
If his involvement with her came out, his aunt would never name him her heir.
Mavis might be beaten, but she had far more to lose, and she’d be damned if she let Thaddeus Mayles get to anyone else. She looked at him again, still pacing—he hadn’t gone straight to the police. Instead, he dragged her here, to speak alone, which meant that she had cards to play yet.
“What do you want?” she asked him quietly.
It wasn’t lost on her that this was not so different from the conversation she had with Arden at Montenari’s, but unlike then, when Thaddeus stopped to look at her now, there was nothing but loathing etched in his features.
“What I want is the dowry your brother promised me.”
Her made-up dowry wasn’t as high as Oriana’s—only one million solas—but that didn’t make it any more attainable.
Mavis’s mind worked quickly, turning over possibilities and risks.
Thaddeus was angry about her making a fool of him, but more than that, he was desperate.
A desperate man might be a dangerous one, but it also made him more reckless. Reckless, Mavis could work with.
“All right.” She held up her hands.
Thaddeus scoffed. “You don’t have that kind of money.”
Maybe not, but Mavis was, if nothing else, a gifted liar, and she knew the best lies hewed close to the truth.
“You’re right about me, but wrong about Ryskamp.
” The words poured forward in a rush. “He isn’t part of the con; he was the first mark I ever played.
You aren’t the first fiancé I’ve tricked, and I’ve taken money from all of them.
What you saw last night—I seduced him so he would stay quiet, nothing more than that.
” That last bit was a lie, the words tasting acrid in her mouth, but she pushed on.
“All the money I’ve taken, you can have it. ”
Thaddeus’s jaw tightened and his eyes searched her face. Whatever he expected her to say, it wasn’t that. “A million solas?” he asked.
Even if Minstead hadn’t taken all the money from the cons, she wouldn’t have close to that.
“Yes, but it will take some time,” she said. “It’s locked in a bank in Strall, but I can send my associate to get it.”
His lip curled. “Your brother?”
Mavis was grateful he only knew about Rafe. “I can have it for you in a week,” she lied.
A week would be enough time to get Rafe and Leif as far from Garlin as possible, though she doubted they would go willingly. That was a problem for later, though—she had enough to reckon with just now as it was.
For a long moment, Thaddeus said nothing, but Mavis could see his mind working, desperation and logic going to war. As usual, desperation won.
He gave a curt nod. “A week.”
Mavis had no doubt that even if she did find a way to get Thaddeus a million solas in a week, he would still turn her over to the police, but she had no illusions that her own fate was anything but sealed.
She just hoped a week was enough time to keep Rafe and Leif from joining her.
And Arden . . . a week was enough time to convince Oriana to accept his proposal.
The two million he promised her wouldn’t do her much good then, but it would still buy Rafe and Leif their freedom from Minstead.
It would be enough.