Blythe’s frown was severe as she carefully tucked the silver strands away just in time for Charlotte to look over with a lift to her brow. Signa straightened, smiling despite the thundering of her heart.
A duke was dead, Fate had stopped her from communicating with Death, her childhood friend was a potential suspect in a murder, and now her hair was turning silver as though she’d aged overnight.
What else could possibly go wrong?
Signa tried to pull herself back into reality, not wishing to focus on her hair so much that she alerted other people to her predicament. She shifted her attention back to Everett, who was greeting lovely women in pale tea dresses with twirling parasols to block out sunlight that was doing its best to burn Signa where she stood. Everett didn’t look like a man capable of murder… but she’d been wrong before.
Eliza was nearby as well, and Signa noticed after a second look that the dark-haired man who spoke to her was none other than Byron. When Charlotte caught her looking, she hummed under her breath.
“Miss Wakefield always did want to marry a Hawthorne,” Charlotte mused. “I just thought it would be Percy. They were so close before he left.”
The sound Blythe made was unintelligible. “Eliza and my uncle? Your mind is far more apt to storytelling than I would have imagined.”
Charlotte waved her fan harder, cutting Blythe a scathing look. “They’ve been seeing each other for some time. He’s a good match, unmarried and affluent. I daresay he might have asked for her hand by now, if not for the scandal with your father. Or maybe he has, and they’re biding their time until your family’s name is cleared.”
As much as Signa disliked the idea of Eliza being welcomed into the family, it certainly helped make sense of the ring they’d found in Elijah’s study.
Blythe wrapped her hands around her stomach, likely thinking the same thing. “It seems more happened while I was stuck in bed than I realized.”
“Or perhaps you’ve been far too concerned with yourself to consider what everyone else is doing.”
“Now, now, enough of that,” Signa said, alarmed. Whatever had happened between Charlotte and Blythe, there would be time to settle it later, in private. “We’re all friends here…” Her voice trailed off when she caught sight of a golden head of hair making its way through the throng. An angry heat festered in her stomach, thinking of her silver hair and their argument from when they last spoke. There was so much happening; so many thoughts to parse that she wasn’t sure how she could handle anything else. Fortunately, Fate turned at the last moment, headed not toward her but to Everett.
“I swear I can’t keep pace with you these days,” Blythe huffed under her breath. “First you’re dreaming of a duke, and now you lose your thoughts in the presence of a prince.”
“You’ve been dreaming of Everett?” There was tension in Charlotte’s jaw, though Signa couldn’t find it in her to answer. Fate’s presence was all-consuming. Though they were here to bolster Elijah’s name and make a good impression on the guests, Signa very much doubted anyone would remember that she and the Hawthorne family had attended when there was someone far more interesting to think about.
“I can’t believe he’s visiting all the way from Verena.” Signa turned to see that the voice came from a small group of ladies she recognized from other social events this season. Diana Blackwater was among them, flapping her fan so fiercely that her white bonnet bobbed upon her small head. “It’s such a lovely place, right on the water. My father took me there for a visit when I was young. The prince and I became quite close.”
One of the younger girls gasped. “Do you think he came all this way for you?”
Diana, bless her, was positively preening. How silly it was to watch her and the entire town play into Fate’s trap.
“Do tell us about him,” one girl said with prying hopefulness. “Is he charming?”
“He is quite the gentleman,” Diana said with a practiced swoon. It seemed everyone was an actor, these days. “He’s well-mannered and incredibly attentive. If you thought Wisteria Gardens was beautiful, you would perish upon seeing his family’s royal palace.”
Ha. Well-mannered, indeed.
“I must admit that I was pleased to see Aris—forgive me, I do mean Prince Dryden—visiting the year of my debut,” Diana continued. “I’ve always had such a fondness for Verena, and always imagined myself ending up there one day.”
She wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t. And yet Signa’s hands twitched with annoyance. Diana and her lies didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things, but there was something about her that irked Signa so much that she spun to face the girl.
“It must be fate,” Signa mused, smile so wide that her eyes squinted halfway shut.
Diana returned a thin smile, fanning herself with a touch more aggression. “I daresay you’re right, Miss Farrow.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Fate is a very powerful thing.” It was the alleged prince himself who spoke as he and Everett approached. Diana and the rest of the ladies fell silent as he and the freshly minted duke dipped their heads in greeting. Fate’s eyes, however, lifted to watch Signa from beneath long lashes, and that strange heat in her belly was back.
“Prince Aris,” she said with as much revulsion as publicly acceptable. “You’re still in town?”
“Still? Did you intend on leaving?” It was Everett who asked, setting a hand on Fate’s shoulder as though they were good friends. Signa couldn’t help but fixate on that touch, glaring, for why was it that Fate could manage to not just be seen but also touched, when Death couldn’t manage either? “I expected you’d be here through the season.”
“I will be,” Fate said coolly enough to prickle Signa’s skin. “Miss Farrow must have misunderstood. I have every intention of remaining here until she agrees to accept my proposal.”
The words were so casual that everyone within hearing distance stilled, looking at one another to ensure they’d heard the same thing. Signa’s cheeks burned.
“Surely, you mean until someone accepts your proposal.” She tried to smile. To make light of his comment.
Fortunately, Fate bowed his head and obliged her with a small, amused smirk. “Of course, Miss Farrow. Do forgive me for misspeaking.”
Oh, how Signa wished that she could summon her shadows and claim Fate where he stood. She hated that he sounded so charming, and that there was a dimple in his cheek that made him look entirely too friendly. When she decided she could no longer bear to entertain him, Signa diverted her attention onto Everett.
“Congratulations, Lord Wakefield,” she said at last, hoping to create some diversion from whatever game Fate was playing.
“Yes, congratulations.” Charlotte took a squeaky breath when Everett approached. “You look very respectable in that sash. Your father would be proud.”
Everett looked so bashful as he adjusted his waistcoat that Signa sought Blythe’s eyes to share a look. Her cousin, however, was fixated on the ground.
“Thank you, Miss Killinger,” he said. “That’s truly appreciated.”
Charlotte shyly glanced away as she pushed a fallen curl from her shoulder. It seemed they might mill about each other all day if someone didn’t do something to rouse them from their stupor. And though Signa opened her mouth to relieve her friend, Fate beat her to it.
“The day is far too perfect for us to continue standing around chatting.” He tipped his head toward the garden. “How would you all fancy a game of croquet?”
TWENTY