“Jenny, would you ...” Aria swallowed, considered, then dedicated herself. “Would you be open to a traveling companion?”
After several days of cataloguing the manor house and surrounding buildings in excruciating detail, Huxley finally moved his attention to the grounds, specifically the orchard, once again demanding Baron accompany him. The official reason he cited was that, as former heir, Baron had crucial information about the estate.
They both knew the real reason: Huxley feared letting Baron out of his sight. A Caster might get up to any number of devious misdeeds if left unwatched.
Baron didn’t care. As long as Huxley’s attention was on him, it was not on Corvin.
“What’s this?” Standing in the orchard shed, Huxley used his cane to poke at a few stacked bags in the corner.
“Fertilizer, sir!” said Walter. The head groundskeeper had answered every question like a soldier suddenly called to war. Every so often, when Huxley wasn’t watching, Walter dabbed at his face with a handkerchief, scowling at the steward’s back.
Huxley squinted at Baron. “Already had fertilizer over there. This kind’s different. What’s the business of having two?”
Nefarious Caster matters, thought Baron.What else?
He cleared his throat. With every added day of Huxley’s presence, he found his natural responses needing to be restrained more and more.
“This new blend should better insulate the soil, since we’ve had a few dangerous cold spells in recent winters. The details are all in my orchard report, Mr. Huxley.”
With a grunt, the man poked his cane into the bags a few more times, then handed it off to his manservant, who, in turn, placed a stool on the ground. Huxley sat and took notes, his favorite pastime. Surely he must have filled an entire journal on the Reeves estate already, and Baron couldn’t help imagining most of the lines contained variations ofWhat is that Caster up to?
The door to the shed banged open, startling them all. Huxley nearly toppled off his stool.
“Baron!” Corvin stood in the doorway, pointing behind himself. “There’s a royal carriage coming!”
Baron glanced at Huxley, but the man seemed equally surprised by the news. While the steward struggled to gather his things, Baron hurried to the door, catching a moment’s privacy with Corvin.
“See anything else?” he whispered.
Corvin’s dark eyes shone with excitement, and he grinned. “Sure did—it’sher.”
It was not excitement that gripped Baron, but fear. The crown princess turning up unexpectedly at his estate could not be for any good reason, considering the state of the kingdom and the history of his luck. All the same, he kept his expression neutral.
Huxley caught up to them and grabbed Corvin by the shoulder, turning him one way, then the other. The boy tensed.
“I’d hoped to get you a proper suit before you had to greet anyone of import.” The steward gave a pitiful moan, then shook his head. “Stand up straight, boy. Half the title is bearing.”
“Wait, I’m—I’mgreeting?” Corvin looked at Baron.
“Of course!” Huxley snapped. “You’re the future lord baron. Now hold yourself like it. Haven’t you got a pair of gloves at least?”
Corvin looked down at his bare hands.
“Hopeless,” Huxley murmured. With a firm push, he directed Corvin down the path, dismissing Walter before following close behind. When Baron moved to walk beside his brother, Huxley’s cane rapped against his shinbone, and the steward nodded up the path toward the manor house.
“Considering your last experience at court, my lord, surely you’d be more comfortable waiting inside. At least until we know the purpose of this unexpected visit.”
Baron gave a thin smile. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Huxley, but I feel no need to hide.”
Thankfully, the steward didn’t press the matter. As they reached the gravel drive, the estate gates opened to admit a sleek black carriage trimmed in red accents, with the royal crest wrought in painted metal on either door. The carriage driver and footman sat tall in the red-and-white livery of the palace. Slowly, the carriage crunched its way up the drive.
“I thought it would have arrived already.” Mr. Huxley frowned. “How did you know it was even coming?”
Corvin blanched. “I saw it from—I was on the—sitting on the roof.”
“Again.” The steward scowled. “We’ll discuss your improper climbing behaviors later. For now, remember to bow with both hands on your stomach, and use the most formal address possible for whoever this messenger is.”
The carriage pulled to a halt. Mr. Huxley positioned Corvin next to himself—both of them a step in front of Baron and Huxley’s manservant.
