I paused, working down a lump in my throat, and Frederic waited patiently, asking no questions.
“He invited me to be his ward, and to return to Catalie with him. I was so grateful to him at first. Becoming the ward to a nobleman seemed like a literal fairy tale come true. I didn’t realize then…It was only later…” I stopped again, working down a second lump.
“Did he…hurt you?” asked Frederic, his voice sounding strange.
I looked at him in surprise and nearly recoiled from the anger in his eyes, un-reflected in his otherwise strangely-still face.
“No, no,” I assured him. “Not physically, anyway.” I sighed. “I was so determined that this home would last. It didn’t matter what Monique or Marcus said, I was determined not to let them drive me away. But then the weeks turned into months, and the viscount—my supposed foster father—never made any move to reprimand them or defend me. That’s when I realized the truth.”
I stopped again, and Frederic said, “Evie,” in a voice so gentle I shook my head, my eyes focused back across the water. If he gave me any sympathy, I would break. And now that I had started, I wanted to get through this. I wanted someone to know.
“My lack of family had given the viscount the excuse he needed to make me his ward instead of his servant. But his purpose had never been generosity or any true intent to include me in his family. He had seen my skill—even then I could design a dress that stood out, and doubly so in that tiny village where he found me—and he had wished to secure my services. Services he didn’t have to pay for, services that couldn’t be stolen away from his family by someone willing to pay more.”
Anger made me ball my hands into fists. “He never introduced me to anyone here as his ward. But my thankfulness blinded me. I worked hard because I so longed to show my gratitude for being taken in and given a home. But eventually I noticed that they never took me with them when they left the house. They never introduced me to their friends at all. When I eventually started going out on my own, the people I met were surprised to learn of my existence. Though I crafted the dresses that the viscountess and her daughters wore to parties, I was never invited to attend myself.”
“Such a man does not deserve a noble title,” said Frederic quietly.
I didn’t look at him since I didn’t know if I could handle whatever I might see on his face. Instead, I shrugged. “My life actually changed for the better after I recognized my true situation—once I stopped looking for love from any of them. I sewed less after that and explored the island more. I figured if the viscount didn’t want to pay me as a servant or hire my services as a dressmaker, he couldn’t require me to work unceasingly, either.”
Silence fell between us, and I began to regret my words. They were gone from me now, and I couldn’t take them back. This prince, strong and sure of himself, knew some part of how pathetic and friendless I had been for most of my life. It wasn’t the image that I wanted him to have of me. And his last words rang through my mind. Had I just sowed the seeds of trouble between Lanover’s future king and one of his important nobles? If so, that hadn’t been the action of a friend. I should have bitten my tongue, however nicely he asked.
I forced myself to look past my own hurt and consider the viscount as objectively as I could.
“You asked me earlier if the viscount ever hurt me. I never feared him in such a way. I often feared…” I paused. “…someone else. But, in truth, no one ever lifted a finger against me. And I think that’s because everyone knows the viscount would not permit such behavior within his lands. I have heard the villagers talk often enough. They do not find him liberal with his wealth, or generous with his time and attention, but they all feel safe on his lands.”
Frederic seemed to consider these words. “It is a relief to me to hear that he has some honor, at least—some sense of responsibility to his people, even if it is not what it should be.”
A part of me hated to admit any strengths in the man I had once longed to look up to as a father, but the fair part of me admitted it was true. “And he has raised his son to think the same way.”
“Yes, Julian seems to be a decent sort,” said Frederic, with a strange sideways glance at me, “if a little blind on some things.”
The statement was so exactly how I would have described him that I couldn’t help a smile despite the emotional toll my confessions had taken. The warmth of the sun and my full stomach were making me sleepy, and I wished I could lie down and take a nap.
“Frederic!” Celine’s yell brought us both to our feet, but when she appeared she looked happy. “Julian tells me he has the most cunning little catamaran. And he’ll take us all out for a sail any day we like.”
“Except tomorrow,” said Julian. “Some of the officials from the surrounding islands are coming in for a day of meetings with the princes.”
“The next day, then?” asked Celine.
Frederic weighed his sister’s hopeful expression before glancing out to the horizon. Something on his face told me he liked the idea of a sail himself. “Certainly, if you would like it,” was all he said, however.
That wasn’t the end of the matter, of course. Much conversation ensued, especially once it had been established that the catamaran didn’t have room for our whole group. I checked out of the conversation at that point since I obviously wouldn’t be one of the sailors. Especially not given that Monique—who had been unusually silent up until that point—took direction of the sailing expedition.
Delphine told me she’d found a rare sea anemone that she wanted to show me, so we wandered away from the rest of the group to the rock pools located on the far end of the beach. Some time later, her younger sister came into view calling loudly for us to return. Half the group had already mounted up by the time we made it back, so we scrambled onto our horses and headed back to the manor house.
When we arrived, Celine drew me aside and asked if I would make some more bathing costumes so she could distribute a few as gifts on her departure. “Not as magnificent as ours, of course,” she instructed with a wink. “But I think even a simpler version will do a lot to win good will toward the crown among some of the younger nobles.
I chuckled and agreed and spent the next day sewing, trying not to think about the possibility that I might be once again sewing for Monique and Shantelle. I reminded myself that while the previous dresses I had created for them had been done under false pretenses, the royals paid generously for my skills, and it wasn’t for me to dictate what they did with the commissions I made for them.
Celine popped past my tent in the late afternoon, but when I tried to report on my progress, she waved my words away. “Oh, don’t worry about that. I have no doubt you’ll have them ready by the time we leave, and I don’t need them before. I just came past because I wasn’t sure if you knew what time we’re leaving in the morning.”
I knit my eyebrows. “Did you want me to come and see you off?”
“See us off?” Celine laughed. “You’re coming with us, silly.”
“Coming with you?” I blinked.
“Of course.” She winked at me. “Don’t forget our secret mission. A couple of the girls here seem nice, but you’re the one who really knows them. I need your insight.”
I gulped. Oh dear. Still. I used to sail sometimes with some of the villagers, but I had never been on Julian’s catamaran. And I had to admit I had always wanted to do so. It was a beautiful craft.
“Thank you—for convincing them to include me,” I said, not wanting to seem reluctant or ungrateful.
Celine gave me a quizzical look. “I’m delighted to have you, of course, but it wasn’t me who insisted on your presence. That was Frederic.”