Midnight Jewel
Page 54
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Our most important events took place in the evenings. Those dinners and parties drew in the most prestigious suitors and gave us a chance to assess the homes and resources of those who were courting us. Adelaide, Amelia, and I attended our first private party at the home of an esteemed merchant. Despite our host’s obvious wealth, the party felt casual compared to the pomp and excess of the ball. We were still made up to perfection and still on our best behavior among Cape Triumph’s elite, but at least there weren’t so many of them. We also had the freedom to mingle with whomever we chose. There were no set dance cards tonight. Actually, there wasn’t much dancing of any kind, which let me give my ankle a rest.
Thinking of my ankle made me think of Grant, and thinking of him made me think of his hands on my leg, and thinking of that . . .
“Are you okay, miss?”
I blinked away from my imagination’s treachery and focused on a young man standing before me, his face quizzical. “Sorry?”
“You look so flushed,” he said. “I hope the room isn’t too hot for you. Should I get you some water?”
“That’s very kind, thank you.”
I struggled to keep smiling as he flagged down a servant. This was maddening. It had only been one kiss. Well, one kiss and a hiked skirt. When the solicitous man returned with my water, I turned my charm up as high as I could, flirting far more than I had with anyone at the debut ball. If some part of me was intent on experimenting with a transient lover, then surely I could find someone else. Someone less . . . complicated.
But it didn’t work. It didn’t work with the next man I spoke to either. Or the next. I went out of my way to find the best-looking men at the party and discovered that both Grant and Miss Garrison had been right about my appeal. Some of the men seemed hesitant to initiate conversation with a Sirminican but warmed up once they realized I was a “regular” person. And they needed no warm-up at all when it came to my physical attributes. Even through their masks of gentility, I could see them sizing up my figure. Their interest was palpable, but I felt no stirrings of anything. I didn’t want to climb on their laps. I didn’t want to feel their lips crushed to mine. I admired their attractiveness, nothing more.
When our group came home to Wisteria Hollow later, we found most of the other girls gathered in the parlor, all eager to talk about their respective parties. Adelaide went to bed early, and I offered to go upstairs with her. She’d been out of sorts today, and I worried the strain of being the diamond was already getting to her. She had the most aggressive schedule of anyone. “Just tired,” she said, waving me off. “Stay up if you want to.”
I wasn’t interested in hearing about everyone’s suitors, especially after all the superficial conversations I’d already had to endure. But I did like the other gossip from Cape Triumph. Despite the peace in the central colonies, rumors of Lorandian and Icori threats always circulated. Local scandals and crime were also hot gossip. Hearing the story of a family who’d received no assistance from the militia or soldiers after being robbed on a busy street made me frown, but a switch in topic to the city’s enigmatic pirates distracted me. It seemed some of them might have taken to water again.
“This ship just vanished last night,” Juliana told us. “The watchmen on the docks never saw anything. Too misty.”
“Wasn’t anyone on board?” asked Martha.
“Just a skeleton crew, and none of them know what happened,” explained Juliana. “They were knocked out, tied up, and left farther up the coast.”
I leaned forward, fascinated. “What was on the ship?”
“Mostly sugar. Some spices. They took all the sailors’ weapons too. It had just come into port in the afternoon and hadn’t been unloaded yet.” Juliana sighed. “I hope we can still get sugar for coffee and tea. The gentleman who told me about the ship said those things will be hard to find until spring trade increases from the south. Prices will go up.”
Clara ran her hands over her narrow waist. “Just as well. Who needs sweets? You should cut back on those pecan buns at breakfast, you know. You’re not engaged yet.”
Juliana turned bright red and instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. I tried not to roll my eyes. Honestly, couldn’t Clara get through any conversation without finding a way to belittle someone?
“I’m actually surprised you aren’t married already,” I teased Juliana. “You’ve had suitors visiting you nonstop. And it sounds like you must have been talking to a well-connected gentleman if he knows so much about commerce.”
Juliana brightened. “Oh, yes. Barton Scarborough. He trades all up and down the coast. I danced with him twice.”
“Ooh, you’re lucky,” cooed Theresa. “Mister Scarborough is such a fancy dresser! I saw him at the ball but didn’t get a chance to dance with him.”
“He had silk roses embroidered on his waistcoat tonight.” Juliana lifted her chin proudly. “It’s because his father—the elder Mister Scarborough—lived in Lorandy years ago. They’re a very fashionable family.”
I decided it was time to make my exit. I’d restored Juliana’s standing and didn’t feel particularly compelled to listen to a detailed analysis of men’s wardrobes. But when I reached the doorway, I halted. Every time someone said “Scarborough,” it tickled a memory—especially when Juliana said it. Like me, she loosened her formal Osfridian in private and would revert to her old accent, a quayside dialect that nearly dropped the second syllable of Scarborough. It sounded like scar-brow.
Skarbrow.
That had been a name on the list uncovered at Abraham Miller’s. Grant hadn’t recognized it because, like some of the other names, Miller had misspelled it. It almost certainly should have been Scarborough. Had Grant made this connection yet? If not, he needed to know. Identifying the customs officials on that list was critical.
A new energy rushed through me. I sprinted up to my room, careful not to wake Adelaide, and wrote out a note in the cipher Grant had taught me. When I came back downstairs, I was just in time to see Aiana at the front door. “Aiana!” I whispered. “Are you leaving?”
Thinking of my ankle made me think of Grant, and thinking of him made me think of his hands on my leg, and thinking of that . . .
“Are you okay, miss?”
I blinked away from my imagination’s treachery and focused on a young man standing before me, his face quizzical. “Sorry?”
“You look so flushed,” he said. “I hope the room isn’t too hot for you. Should I get you some water?”
“That’s very kind, thank you.”
I struggled to keep smiling as he flagged down a servant. This was maddening. It had only been one kiss. Well, one kiss and a hiked skirt. When the solicitous man returned with my water, I turned my charm up as high as I could, flirting far more than I had with anyone at the debut ball. If some part of me was intent on experimenting with a transient lover, then surely I could find someone else. Someone less . . . complicated.
But it didn’t work. It didn’t work with the next man I spoke to either. Or the next. I went out of my way to find the best-looking men at the party and discovered that both Grant and Miss Garrison had been right about my appeal. Some of the men seemed hesitant to initiate conversation with a Sirminican but warmed up once they realized I was a “regular” person. And they needed no warm-up at all when it came to my physical attributes. Even through their masks of gentility, I could see them sizing up my figure. Their interest was palpable, but I felt no stirrings of anything. I didn’t want to climb on their laps. I didn’t want to feel their lips crushed to mine. I admired their attractiveness, nothing more.
When our group came home to Wisteria Hollow later, we found most of the other girls gathered in the parlor, all eager to talk about their respective parties. Adelaide went to bed early, and I offered to go upstairs with her. She’d been out of sorts today, and I worried the strain of being the diamond was already getting to her. She had the most aggressive schedule of anyone. “Just tired,” she said, waving me off. “Stay up if you want to.”
I wasn’t interested in hearing about everyone’s suitors, especially after all the superficial conversations I’d already had to endure. But I did like the other gossip from Cape Triumph. Despite the peace in the central colonies, rumors of Lorandian and Icori threats always circulated. Local scandals and crime were also hot gossip. Hearing the story of a family who’d received no assistance from the militia or soldiers after being robbed on a busy street made me frown, but a switch in topic to the city’s enigmatic pirates distracted me. It seemed some of them might have taken to water again.
“This ship just vanished last night,” Juliana told us. “The watchmen on the docks never saw anything. Too misty.”
“Wasn’t anyone on board?” asked Martha.
“Just a skeleton crew, and none of them know what happened,” explained Juliana. “They were knocked out, tied up, and left farther up the coast.”
I leaned forward, fascinated. “What was on the ship?”
“Mostly sugar. Some spices. They took all the sailors’ weapons too. It had just come into port in the afternoon and hadn’t been unloaded yet.” Juliana sighed. “I hope we can still get sugar for coffee and tea. The gentleman who told me about the ship said those things will be hard to find until spring trade increases from the south. Prices will go up.”
Clara ran her hands over her narrow waist. “Just as well. Who needs sweets? You should cut back on those pecan buns at breakfast, you know. You’re not engaged yet.”
Juliana turned bright red and instinctively wrapped her arms around herself. I tried not to roll my eyes. Honestly, couldn’t Clara get through any conversation without finding a way to belittle someone?
“I’m actually surprised you aren’t married already,” I teased Juliana. “You’ve had suitors visiting you nonstop. And it sounds like you must have been talking to a well-connected gentleman if he knows so much about commerce.”
Juliana brightened. “Oh, yes. Barton Scarborough. He trades all up and down the coast. I danced with him twice.”
“Ooh, you’re lucky,” cooed Theresa. “Mister Scarborough is such a fancy dresser! I saw him at the ball but didn’t get a chance to dance with him.”
“He had silk roses embroidered on his waistcoat tonight.” Juliana lifted her chin proudly. “It’s because his father—the elder Mister Scarborough—lived in Lorandy years ago. They’re a very fashionable family.”
I decided it was time to make my exit. I’d restored Juliana’s standing and didn’t feel particularly compelled to listen to a detailed analysis of men’s wardrobes. But when I reached the doorway, I halted. Every time someone said “Scarborough,” it tickled a memory—especially when Juliana said it. Like me, she loosened her formal Osfridian in private and would revert to her old accent, a quayside dialect that nearly dropped the second syllable of Scarborough. It sounded like scar-brow.
Skarbrow.
That had been a name on the list uncovered at Abraham Miller’s. Grant hadn’t recognized it because, like some of the other names, Miller had misspelled it. It almost certainly should have been Scarborough. Had Grant made this connection yet? If not, he needed to know. Identifying the customs officials on that list was critical.
A new energy rushed through me. I sprinted up to my room, careful not to wake Adelaide, and wrote out a note in the cipher Grant had taught me. When I came back downstairs, I was just in time to see Aiana at the front door. “Aiana!” I whispered. “Are you leaving?”
