CHAPTER ONE
THE RAIN REFLECTEDArchie’s miserable mood well. The misty patter of the cold winter day occasionally dripped cold, wet tendrils down his neck, and the fog made everything feel glum. He’d also forgotten his umbrella and was trying to hurry the final hurdle of small talk along so he could just go home, dry off and read his book.
Thankfully, the rain also meant that his companion was too busy trying to get under shelter to pay him much mind.
“Thank you so much for escorting me home, we simply must do this again,” said Miss Amelia of Norxen with a limp imitation of a smile as she ducked under the sloped porch roof of her townhouse. Archie stood a respectable arms’ length away, which unfortunately put him right under where the edge of the roof dispensed the accumulating rainwater. The door opened for her, and Amelia stepped inside clearly with no intention of inviting Archie in, even to dry off. “I mustn’t keep you in this inclement weather, I hope you get home safely.”
Archie made some sort of agreeing noise, probably, and manfully held his smile until the door closed on him. The last glimpse he caught of Amelia through the doorway was her sighof relief. That stung a little. He hadn’t particularly wanted to court her but still, she could have made it less obvious.
Dashing back up the pathway of Baron Norxen’s townhouse, Archie ducked his head uselessly against the rain, which was getting heavier every passing moment. He’d forgotten his hat in the carriage too, so his hair was soaked through by the time he climbed back in. Belatedly, he realized that he probably should have carried an umbrella for Amelia at least. He’d just been so frazzled by the stony silence on the way home that he’d all but hurried her out the moment the horses came to a stop. It was a stupid expectation that the man had to escort the lady home when the carriage had to travel well out of his way. He wished that just once, someone cared to escort him home safely instead.
"Let's be heading home, young master."His father’s man, Peter, clucked disapprovingly at him, flicking the reins to the horses before he was even fully inside.
Archie perched on the edge of the seat as they rattled through the streets, trying not to drip more on the waxed leather cushioning than necessary. No doubt his eldest brother Charlie would need the carriage this evening, and he didn’t need a lecture on the state he left it in. The windows fogged up until all Archie could see was his own reflection in the tempered glass: wavy light hair currently plastered unevenly to his head, wide hazel eyes that his mother graciously called doe-eyed and his sister teasingly called bug-eyed, and pale porcelain skin that any lady would be envious of. He was wearing the season's latest fashion because Charlie had a reputation to uphold, but this winter's high, starched collars and puffed sleeves on his slender frame made him look like a court jester more than the youngest son of a duke.
He reached out to wipe the fog off the window with his sleeve, no longer wanting to see himself looking so bedraggled. As he did, the carriage ran through a rut in the ground. Hisarm jerked, missing the window, and the reflection in the glass shifted, the eyes of his reflection’s face seeming to look around. Archie blinked. The carriage righted itself, and he was back to looking at himself with a bemused expression. Odd. He wiped the condensation away.
Archie looked around for his coat, realizing he was just in his shirt and waistcoat, both damp. He shivered. He must have forgotten that as well, no wonder he was cold. He'd have to ask Lady Prudence if he'd left it at hers, which was doubly annoying because no doubt she’d ask him how it went with Miss Amelia in a hopeful, well-meaning way. He wasn't usually forgetful, it was just that he was exceptionally awkward around beautiful young women. And, unfortunately, not in the way that most young men lost their minds around beautiful young women.
In hindsight, Amelia had likely agreed to attend Lady Prudence's with him because Lady Prudence was a friend of his mother’s and she would have never warranted an invitation to a duchess’s tea party otherwise. Attention from a duke's son, even if it was Archie, raised her esteem among the other young men, no doubt. The entire time she was there, she had looked simultaneously put-upon that he wasn’t paying her enough attention, and mildly displeased whenever he did try to engage her in conversation.
By the time Archie got home, he was ready to put the whole afternoon behind him and spend the evening wrapped in blankets with a good book.
"Gracious, Archie, you looked like a drowned rat! Nell, quickly, fetch some things to warm him, won't you?" Estelle's voice rang through the entrance hall as Archie entered. She always managed to strike the perfect mix of concern and condescension, more matronly than Archie’s actual mother, even though she was only a year older than him. And just his luck, she wasn't alone. A group of her friends had been visiting,for cards or painting most likely, and were now headed out for the eve. They were right on time to see Nell, one of the maids, take his sodden things, bundle him into a towel and usher him upstairs as if he were a child.
Archie nodded in their direction, trying not to notice that his sister’s group included several young men who he had tried, and spectacularly failed, to make friends with a few years back. He gestured at his soggy self. At least it saved him from having to smile and nod and pretend he wished to spend time with them."Lovely to see everyone. Sorry I can't stay and drip all over you."
If there was one thing he was good at, it was making people laugh at him.
Upstairs, Archie was privately grateful for Nell's fussing. After a hot bath to soak the chill from his bones, he found some ginger-steeped tea waiting for him, along with a warm towel for his hair and heated bricks under his fresh clothes.There was also a note.
Archie frowned, turning it over. Unsealed, addressed to him in his mother's hand. That was strange, why wouldn't she just tell one of the servants to pass along a message? And where was she, anyway? He was sure mother meant to be at Lady Prudence's to oversee his afternoon with Amelia but she had never turned up. That had been his last chance, as far as his mother had been concerned. After Amelia, his mother had officially run out of friends and acquaintances with eligible daughters who might give Archie a sniff.
She was at the palace, apparently. The note was more of a reminder to Archie to bring along the fox fur coat she had forgotten to pack, rather than any sort of explanation. He turned it over, but there was no further clue, which was just like her. He sighed.
"Nell, did mother say anything about going to the palace?"asked Archie as he felt his shoulder muscles finally unclench under the warmth.
"My lady and his lordship left a little after luncheon. We've packed your things so you can take up residence there for the rest of winter. One of the old pipes burst this morning and flooded the first floor terribly. And rather than patch things up, my lady figured she might as well get in one of those hydromancer mages at the same time,” said Nell as she laced up the back of Archie’s shirt. His father and Charlie had their own designated valets; Archie got whichever maid happened to be free, if he needed help, and this season’s shirts all had ties round the blasted back.
“And it’s going to take the whole winter?”
“My lady wants the whole plumbing system redone. They say you’ll be able to get hot water straight out of any tap at any time with the new enchantments. Not to be bold, Master Archie, but that will make my life a lot easier.” Nell tapped his shoulder to indicate she was done, and he held his arms out.
“I’m sure it will. And I’m sure it’s costing father a pretty penny,” murmured Archie as Nell helped him into the waistcoat. It was burnished orange. For Charlie, with his ruggedly tan complexion, this sort of thing probably looked distinguished. Archie rather suspected he looked like a ghost perched on a pumpkin.
Archie, along with the forgotten fur coat, bundled straight back into the carriage along with the last of the luggage. He hadn’t even got to pick which of his clothes he wanted to take, he noted with some annoyance, but at least his mother had bothered to let him know. Peter, on the other hand, had the air of a resigned man who had just hunkered down at the kitchen fire with a mug of hot tea to warm his joints and had been told he’d have to head straight back out again.
The palace wasn’t far, Archie could have walked it if not for the rain. The route they took was usually a lovely view, right along the edge of the palace gardens, but the windows were still misted up, lending the carriage a strange gloomy atmosphere as if he were inside an ice box. One that smelled particularly of damp horse. Every movement Archie made seemed to reveal some new gap in his clothes for a whistle of cold air to bolt up. He draped his mother’s coat over himself and huddled in place, all the relief from the tea and hot bricks instantly gone.
“We are arrived — oh young master, it is frigid in here! Are you all right?” exclaimed Peter when he opened the door for Archie. The stoic manservant rarely had reason to raise his voice, but Archie hadn’t noticed quite how bad it had got until he stepped out of the carriage. Even though it was still raining, it was so much warmer outside that he nearly gasped in relief. He glanced back at the carriage in disbelief.
Peter opened an umbrella over Archie’s head, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “I’ll have it checked for drafts immediately. Very strange, Master Archie, do beg pardon.”
“Yes, thank you,” murmured Archie dazedly, heading into the palace through one of the side gates. He could have cried when the door shut behind him and he stopped shivering. He rubbed at his aching fingers and the tip of his nose, which felt like icicles. Gods, he was freezing, how hadn’t he noticed how bad it was? It was as if his mind had gone to sleep, unable to deal with it. He slowly oriented himself and headed towards their quarters, thankful that the walk would warm him up.
“There you are, do you have the — excellent, I was planning to wear it tonight,” said mother the moment Archie arrived at their suites.
“Good eve to you too,” muttered Archie, but his heart wasn’t in it. Mostly he was relieved that the fire was roaring.
