Silas.
Cedric thought of his best friend and snorted, “I bet he would drag me out, too.”
This time, he rummaged for his cards and plucked one of the untouched packs, scribbled out his answer, and set it off to be mailed by the morning.
Thinking of the man who had stood by his side as he lay Helena in the ground, the man who came to his home, week after week, to drag him out to see the sun in his mix of grief and anger, Cedric knew he could not deny him. Chuckling, he turned his mind back to his work, and a flickering thought went back to the little miss in the library.
She’ll be gone by tomorrow.
Chapter Three
The man in the library—had he been the duke? He said it was his house… had I spoken to the elusive Duke Holloway?
“Ariadne?” Marigold nudged her, a frown knotted her brows. “Are you well? The bell for supper just rang.”
“Oh, yes, yes,” She nodded, then stood and stopped herself from swaying on her feet.
Maybe taking all those drinks Mother had brought me for consolation was not the best idea.
As they headed to the dining room, Ariadne watched the assembly sort itself into proper order to file into the dining room like toy dolls on a shelf.
It felt faintly absurd.
As she had expected, the duke’s brother had not danced with her again; as a matter of fact, said Lord had disappeared ten minutes after their dance. Every lord whom she had danced with after him had been entirelyunsuitable.
After two dances with renowned fortune hunters, one with a crashing bore, and another with a baron who had two dead wives, Ariadne hadn’t been able to continue feigning enjoyment. Her mother had plied her with conciliatory drinks after each disappointing set. Now, with the ringing in her ears, she regretted that decision.
“Do you have a partner?” Isolde asked her, and Ariadne startled a bit. It was probably one of the few times her sister had spoken all night.
“No,” she replied. “Do you?”
Isolde shook her head, “But I am happy Celestine and Marigold do, though.”
She looked over to her two sisters and the lords chatting with them and felt happy for them. Ariadne had yet to attach names to their faces, but their bearing spoke of wealth and consequence; hopefully, it would go somewhere well for them. Ariadne was not sure the night would turn better for herself.
When they were permitted to enter, the dining hall blazed with candlelight. The glistening crystal glasses caught the light and threw it back in prismatic fragments, whilst silver gleamed atop the white linen.
A footman pulled out her chair for her, and when the meal arrived, the servers moved with practiced efficiency, settling bowls of white soup before them.
With Isolde sitting by her side and her mother on the right, she took care to sip a sobering drink through the meal.
“Celestine tells me that lord with her is interested in calling on her when we return home,” her mother said excitedly. “I am just disappointed that you didn’t make a match, though, Ariadne.”
Her heart sank a little at those words, but she held her head high while cutting into her veal. “It’s the first night of the season, Mother. I have some time to find someone.”
As her mother reached for her wine, Ariadne swore she heard her mother mutter, “Not as long as you’d think.”
She frowned. “What was that, mother?”
Ophelia blinked. “What do you mean?”
A small disturbance at the door had her attention changing from her mother to the door where Lord Leander stepped in, “I apologize for the disturbance. Please, continue your meal.”
As she and others turned back to her meals, Ariadne asked her mother, “Are you at least happy for Celestine and Marigold?”
“Yes, but you know my stance on how you all should marry,” Ophelia replied. “I’d love for you all to marry well, with lords who are kind and caring as your father was to me, but I would rather it start with you.”
Reaching for her tart lemonade, Ariadne took a sip and then rested the glass. “I am happy for them both. If the lords do follow through with courting them, they will be fine.”
