That’s practically a megaphone, yelling that the entire impromptu trip hinged on that musty book I discovered. I don’t know what surprises me more: that I’m sitting in someone else’s home, bathing in cigarette smoke, or that I almost found myself entering a séance with an Alzheimer’s patient without having even agreed to it.
All because I wanted to be right.
Had to open my mouth. Had to point out who Cillian actually was.
For fuck’s sake, Eric.
I open my mouth—to say what, I don’t know—but that’s whenBodoni Condensed Obliquestruts in. He’s old-money gentility wrapped in a box built from a weighty family name. And fate fucking pushes him towards me. He touches Francesca’s back once he reaches our little soiree, kisses the top of her head, then bows too deeply at me—a bow low enough to pass as court protocol, yet simultaneously shallow enough to make his disrespect known.
I know his name before it’s said to me. It’s Baked Bean’s prime suspect.Cousin Edmundis what Francesca once referredto him as, her smile making a slow reappearance as she questions what he’s doing here.
“Came to check in on Nanna,” he says, offering a nod to Albert.
Battenwen’s resident nurse goes rigid, spine snapping straight like a man preparing for disaster. He looks over at me as I raise a questioning brow.‘This fucking guy’,is what his expression tells me, and I grit my teeth against a chuckle.
“Thought you were staying in the city,” Francesca responds, tilting her head in curiosity.
“Would’ve. But then Father went back to Marathid to see Percy and Mother. You know how it is.”
Looks like someone’s father lied to them.
Albert’s amused as hell by this information.
Francesca frowns at him, choosing not to out her uncle. “I’m surprised you didn’t accompany Percy, though.”
His laughter sounds dry and unamused as he casually seats himself in an armchair. “It’s quieter in Redford. At least you can hear yourself think, for better or worse.”
“You know how to think?” interjects Albert, and Edmund gives him a tight smile. “Proud of you, lad.”
Francesca shakes her head, then realises she’s been quite rude. There’s a composed smile playing at the edges of her mouth, one I don’t like at all. “Forgive me, I forgot myself. Edmund, allow me to properly introduce you to our guest, as befits his station. Prince Eryxon Atherbourne, Crown Prince of Marzod. Your Highness, please meet my cousin, Lord Edmund, heir to Marathid.”
Edmund inclines his head respectfully. “An honour indeed, Your Royal Highness. I’ve heard much about your looming visit. Quite the stir you’ve created.” His eyes flick for a moment towards Francesca, searching for praise because he smiled and spoke the right way.
Just like Ham-Ham.
“Attention seems to follow wherever I go,” I say at last, dipping my chin in greeting. “As heir, I’m certain you understand the burden of beingnoticed, Cousin Edmund.”
He smiles when I say it.Cousin Edmund. But that smile comes a heartbeat too late. Albert, on the other hand, laughs at him without a care. I check my phone despite there being no new notifications and add, “Francesca, we really should get going. Kai and Hamish just got back from their fishing trip.”
Edmund’s reaction is microscopic, visible only because I’m searching for it. A son hearing that his father’s spending time with someone that isn’t him. Doingtheirold tradition. He doesn’t look at me, yet his gaze bores into me anyway.
“Must sting, eh, Eddie-boy?” snorts Albert.
“Bertie!” Francesca exclaims, cheeks red with mortification. Her cousin forces a laugh, if only to not escalate whatever silly rivalry he’s got going on with his uncle. “Urgh, stop it. C’mon, Ed, you can ride with us, if you want?—”
“Not so fast,” comes Albert’s teasing voice just as I push to my feet. “I’ll drive him back to Redford myself. He promised to help me clear out the library two months back; isn’t that right? Never bloody turned up.”
Edmund reddens. In irritation or embarrassment, I don’t know. “It’s fine,” he insists to Francesca and endeavours for a smirk. “Go on without me; I knew this madman would come collecting eventually.”
She hesitates, but I’m already sick of this performance. I cross to her, ignoring the other men’s eyes, and slide a hand around her waist because come high or hell, I willdragher out of this place before they start bitching again.
Edmund notices the contact, how I gently fist her skirt, warning that if I’m forced to stay any longer, I’ll leave impolitely and without regard for their opinion.
“Bertie, good to meet you,” I greet, matching his amused smirk.
“Pleasure’s all mine, my prince.”
I don’t bother saying goodbye to Edmund, and he pretends not to watch my hand on Francesca as we exit. There’s the beginning of another squabble between him and Albert, but the door swallows the sound when it shuts.
