“I thought you’d like it, despite the noise and crowds.” He turns a dimpled grin my way. “Even if we fail to introduce you to any romantic prospects, we could at least have fun.”
My stomach takes another strange tumble. I didn’t expect him to have anything other than his case study in mind when he chose the first location for our lesson. Does he mean to say he chose the carnival for entertainment purposes too? Entertainment to enjoywithme?
“Socializing may be the first courtship principle I present in my book,” Monty says, “but meeting one’s future partner isn’t something I can help my readers with. Even when I play matchmaker, I don’t set up strangers. I merely notice a spark between two people that they don’t notice themselves.”
“You’re not a matchmaker at all, then,” I say with a wry grin. “You’re more of a…match-noticer? Spark-finder?”
He gives a good-natured roll of his eyes. “Call it whatever you want. The point is you can’t force the spark. Sometimes it can grow from nothing, but you still must test and observe before you can nurture it.”
“So that’s what we’ll be doing today? Mingling with others and seeing if you notice a spark between me and anyone?” I’m reminded of the plan I made with Araminta. We orchestrated a meeting with David’s friends; we didn’t assess compatibility or this so-called spark.
“No, Daph. The purpose of this principle is to teach my readers to socialize for the sake of joy, not romance. Romance is the goal, yes, but it can’t be forced. Socializing is the key to meeting prospective mates, but enjoying it is what makes the process less miserable.”
I frown at him. “I feel like I’ve been tricked. You brought me here not to try and meet prospective partners but to…have fun?” On one hand, that’s such a relief. No pressure. No need to force myself to talk to strangers or cultivate a relationship I only want for logical purposes. On the other hand, I don’t have an abundance of time to secure a husband. Not if I want guaranteed freedom from the handfasting I’m desperate to get out of.
“Yes, because you represent many of my readers,” Monty says. “Working class women who don’t utilize the societal freedoms they have, yet wonder how they’re supposed to find love. In many ways, they have more freedom than the upper class. They aren’t relegated to their family’s parlor, waiting for visitors to call upon them, only going out for extravagant social functions or careful outings with a chaperone. That, of course, makes it both more and less difficult to meet a prospective partner. With more social and sexual freedom comes more ambiguity. It isn’t always clear whether a suitor has courtship, marriage, or sex in mind, because these topics remain taboo to speak so directly about. Which is where I come in. I know the signs that set a gentleman apart from a rake. But meeting said gentleman or rake is up to chance or destiny or…who knows. It can take time. Which is why it’s important to simply enjoy yourself.”
With a grumble, I cast my gaze around the colorful tents and stalls. Despite the ever-rising noise and bustle of guests around us, my nerves have settled to a steady hum in my gut, a mild hitch in my lungs. Probably thanks to Monty’s familiar presence. Maybe he’s right about enjoying myself. This could be fun, like the boxing club ended up being. Maybe I’ve missed out on similar enjoyment simply out of fear.
“I suppose I can have fun,” I mutter.
Monty chuckles and gives the hand I have nestled in the crook of his elbow a consoling pat. “I assure you, socializing for the sake of fun is not as terrible as you think. Besides, there’s still a chance you’ll meet someone you like today. We’ll have plenty of opportunities to mingle with prospective partners.”
Just like that, my comfort unravels and anxiety takes its place, writhing like a nest of snakes in my belly. But I have a solution for that. “Do you think there’s a carousel?” I say in a rush. “I absolutely must find the carousel.”
Monty’s eyes narrow the slightest bit, but he escorts me through the crowds until tinny mechanical music reaches my ears, along with the sight of a rotating circular platform set with dozens of intricately carved fae creatures—dragons, puca, kitsune, selkies—painted in pastel colors. The creatures serve as seats for the ride’s occupants, bobbing up and down as the platform turns. Mirrors and faceted jewels decorate everything from the central pillar to the pitched roof, making the whole ride glitter beneath the afternoon sunlight. One of the towering types of dryads works a large crank that operates the ride. Off to the side, I glimpse a figure adorned in a plenitude of black ruffles, easy to spot amongst the neutral tones worn by the carnival guests or the bright hues of the rides and tents.
I release a feigned gasp. “Isn’t that…Araminta? Oh, let us pay our respects.” I make a beeline for her, tugging Monty along with me.
My tall, lilac-haired friend bounces on the balls of her feet as she waves profusely. This is the second time I’m seeing her in seelie form, and she has on an entirely different mourning ensemble. I’d like to ask which deceased widow she stole from this time, but I’ve already rehearsed what I say next.
“Araminta, how lovely to see you.”
“And I you, my dearest best friend,” she replies, her tone a tad too benevolent. “Coincidences are such a funny thing, are they not?”
“Funny indeed. Oh, but I see you are with company.” I glance briefly at the two human males behind her. One I recognize as David from the boxing club while the other looks to be his same age with dark hair and thick lashes. Both are dressed more casually than Monty—slacks, suspenders, open waistcoats, and tweed caps—and neither appears aware of our ruse. I’m quite relieved to find only one friend with them after all.
“I am with company,” Araminta says, “but I would be honored if the two of you would join us. I would love to introduce you. Particularly to David’s unattached friend.” She gives me a rather inconspicuous wink.
I turn an innocent smile to Monty. “What luck! A male has appeared in the wild and he seems unmarried. Shall we use him for our lesson?”
He faces me fully and speaks in a whisper. “What are you doing? Did you plan this?”
“Maybe I did.”
“We’re not ready for introductions,” he says, pulling me a few steps away from the trio. “There are other topics we need to discuss first.”
“Like what?”
“Like…is he even your type? Are you comfortable with his age? He can’t be more than two-and-twenty.”
I scoff. “You speak like you’re so much older than him. What are you, five-and-twenty?”
“Eight-and-twenty.”
“You’re practically the same age when I’m three centuries older.”
“Still…” He glances at Araminta and the two men, a tic pulsing at the corners of his jaw. Why is he so flustered? Surely this is what he wanted. He lives for matchmaking. He should be pleased we’ve found a potential specimen to assess my possiblesparkwith so soon. “Lesson One was supposed to demonstrate socializing for the sake of fun and that meeting a lover can take time. Instead, you staged a setup.”
