The maid shook her head. “No, my lady, a … prospective guest? She is insisting that she speak with you at once to address the oversight of her lack of invitation. She is … she will not be deterred.”
“Vix,” Ambrose said, blinking at his wife. “Who did we snub?”
Vix met his eye with the most terrifying gentle calmness, her lips curling up at the edges.
“The lady says she is a long-standing patron of the school for young ladies,” the maid continued, twisting her hands together. “A pillar of the institution.”
“My dear girl,” said Vix, raising her eyes to the maid. “Do not let her in the house. I will address Mrs. Tolliver myself, outside.”
“Oh!” said Hannah, coming immediately to her feet. “Oh!”
The maid bobbed a curtsey and turned to attend the task, rushing back out of the room with a mirrored series of taps from her shoes.
Vix examined her fingernails, making no motion to rise and address the crisis at hand.
Thaddeus Beck heaved a sigh and rubbed his fingers over his brows like there was an ache building behind them.
“Tolliver,” Claire repeated, looking at the Beck family with a raise of her honey-brown brows. “I’m afraid I am at a loss about the dynamics at play here. How may I help?”
Vix smiled at her—glowed at her, practically. “I intend to dismiss the woman,” she said, dropping her hand in her lap. “But if you wish to make the encounter more satisfying for me, you could absolutely do so.”
“Oh?” said Freddy, straightening with interest. “What manner of beast is at the gates?”
Beck sighed again, pushing himself to his feet. “Let me do it,” he said to his sister. “I read the letter.”
Vix frowned. “I told you not to.”
“Yes, well,” he replied tartly, “you are not my commander.”
“The devil I’m not,” she shot back, coming to her feet as well.
“I shall just go begin the conversation, shall I?” Claire Hightower said, rising with an elegant lack of noise. “I would prefer she not rattle my staff, you understand.”
Vix nodded to her and let her go ahead, waiting until she’d left the room entirely to round on her brother again. She opened her mouth to rebuke him and then thought better of it, giving a defeated little sigh and shaking her head. “She is a liar,” she said instead.
“You think I don’t know that?” he replied, very gently. “Vix.”
“This is the employer, isn’t it?” Ambrose said, a flickering blade edge whirring to life in his chest. “From your governess post. Isn’t it?”
Vix glanced at him over her shoulder, her dark eyes flat. She nodded.
He stood, turning immediately to exit the room and find the lawn again. He made it as far as the door before his wife was standing in front of him with her hands on his chest.
“Ambrose,” she said. “It is mine to do.”
He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his face bunching with fury. He pushed it out in a breath and nodded. “All right.”
It made her smile. A very tiny smile. And her hands slid down from his chest over his arms to take his hands.
“You can’t do it for me,” she said, “but you can come with me. Do you want to come with me, Ambrose?”
“I am your accomplice,” he reminded her, squeezing those soft, sharp hands. “It was in the vows. Lead the way.”
CHAPTER 21
Vix could hear Mrs. Tolliver before she saw her.
“It is only that I myself attended the institution as a girl. It is a cause very dear to my heart,” she was simpering to Claire Hightower, her voice in a high saccharine timbre she usually reserved for Sunday services. “I understand the oversight, of course. Charitable endeavors require so much organization. Anyone may overlook a detail here and there, and I understand the invitations were sent via Royal Mail rather than hand-delivered. Perhaps that was the error. Public servants, you know?”
