“Ruby, do not touch that pig!” Monica voice cried from across the pavilion. “You will ruin your dress!”
“Oh, but it needs me,” Ruby cried back, already half-bent over Peach’s eager form.
“I’ve got her,” Elias said, pushing past Malcolm and stepping over the fence. “I’m here.”
“Bah,” said Ruby, frowning and drawing herself back up, metallic gown glinting silver and emerald green in the sun. “Brigand.”
It took all of five minutes for Peach to be happily snorting again in Elias’s arms and for Libba to appear once again in a cloud of fury and order, waving her hands as she summoned the remainder of the wards around them, half in and half out of the pigpen.
“Rhys was late,” she began.
“I beg your pardon!” he replied, his top hat half off as he attempted to flip the brim properly.
“We’ll swap the order of presentation,” Libba continued over him. “First Elias with the elegy and then…”
“Oh, I needed to tell you—” Elias began, only to be silenced as well with a stiff hand held immediately in the air as she barreled past him.
“Then the pigs, as Rhys isn’t ready,” she said, nodding at Errol, who nodded calmly back. “Then we will break for the interactive displays, pigs, translations, cup game, and scents while canapes are served and my troupe assembles our stage for thePygmalionexcerpt. We’ll reopen on the play section and then move directly into Hattie’s demonstration and Mal’s panel.”
“Are you canceling me entirely?” Rhys demanded.
“Then,” Libba continued, her voice going up an octave, “another break for punch and onward to Rhys and then Monica.”
“I can’t perform opposite Monica,” Rhys whined, frowning. “That’s not fair.”
“I’ll be gentle, lamb,” Monica said softly. “We ought to have planned something together.”
“‘Ought to’ doesn’t help us now,” Libba snapped. “We’ll finish with Ruby’s sparkles, as planned.”
“‘As planned,’” Ruby echoed, still looking longingly at the pig. “Of course.”
“Are the portraits ready?” Hattie asked softly, reaching toward Libba but not actually touching her. “By the podium?”
Libba paused, glancing over her shoulder, and gave a crisp nod. “Yes. And the prince’s retinue will likely arrive shortly. Several people took it upon themselves to be early, in fact, including the honorable Mr. and Mrs. Selwyn. Elias?”
“Handled,” Elias said, bending down to perch Peach back on the ground. “They won’t cause trouble.”
“Hm,” said Libba, frowning. “Anything else?”
“Did anyone else think they saw—” Malcolm began, only to be immediately shushed by both Errol and Rhys.
The women looked on curiously as he pressed his lips together, clearly cowed out of saying what he had intended.
“Whom?” Libba demanded, curtly.
Mal shook his head. “Nothing. It was stupid.”
Hattie met Elias’s eyes over their shoulders and shrugged.
And without a single further word, the entire contingent of wards split apart like a dropped rock, each piece going in its determined direction, whilst Elias stood in the center, confused that he had missed the cue.
“What are you thinking?” Rhys hissed to Malcolm as they passed him. “Fool.”
“Oh,I’mthe fool?” Mal snapped back.
“Elias, come along!” Libba called from halfway down the path to the podium. “You are required!”
He sighed and nodded, trotting after her, still gripping the book and papers to his side. He had spoken in public many times, especially during his time in the cavalry, but this felt significantly odder than any address he’d ever delivered before.
