“I’m sure she does,” he said. “She’s got a strong spirit. Not easily broken.”
A strange feeling settled in the pit of my stomach as he returned to his work. There’d been no missing the regard in his voice. A warmth, even. My stomach sank further when he added, “I hope you’ll keep helping her. I’ll worry a lot less if I know she’s got a strong defender. Only a fool would cross you—I certainly wouldn’t.”
I couldn’t take in the compliment. A terrible thought had seized hold of me.
Had Clara been right?
Had Mira gotten here by sleeping with Cedric?
He certainly treated her with more than the indifference one might have toward an acquisition. He admired her and was concerned for her. And Clara was right that bringing her here had been a risk for him. I didn’t want to believe such things about quiet, resilient Mira, who had such pride and strength in her every action.
And I definitely didn’t want to believe it of Cedric.
Studying his profile now, the fine cheekbones and gently curved lips, I felt the unease spread from my stomach, tightening my chest. In my mind’s eye, I had a sudden flash of those lips on my friend, of those deft fingers running through her luxurious hair. I swallowed, trying to push down the inexplicable dismay I felt.
He looked up again, his expression softening as he took in my face. “Hey, it’s going to be all right. This is almost done. No one will know.”
I must have been wearing my emotions, and he’d misunderstood. I lowered my gaze, murmuring a stiff thanks, as opposed to one of the usual biting remarks we so often traded.
“There we are,” he said a few minutes later, holding up the overdress. “As good as new.”
Looking at it, I saw that he was correct. The stitches were barely visible unless you were right next to it. It would hopefully be enough to evade Mistress Masterson’s notice. I took the dress, turning away from him as I pulled it over my head. I was surprised that in so short a time, it had picked up the fleeting scent of the vetiver he wore.
It took me a few minutes to get the ensemble back together, fastening all the tiny pearl buttons on the bodice and smoothing the petticoat to lie flat. Then, of course, came the tedious process of arranging the contrasting chemise so it peeked out properly. When I finally turned around, Cedric was regarding me with amusement.
“Were you watching me get dressed?” I exclaimed.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t see a thing,” he said. “Except how much progress you’ve made in putting on your own clothes. I guess this finishing school is really paying off.”
“Someone should send you to a finishing school,” I retorted as we moved toward the door. “You have no sense of decency.”
“Says the girl who let me come in.”
“I told you to leave! You were the one who ignored me and marched right in anyway, despite the state I was in.”
That easy, confident grin returned. “Don’t worry, it’s easily forgotten.”
“Well,” I said huffily, “it shouldn’t be that easily forgotten.”
“Would you like it better if I say I’ll eventually forget it but not without a great deal of struggle and torment?”
“Yes.”
“Done.”
We parted, and I made my way toward the drawing room, where Mister Bricker gave us lessons about both history and current affairs. The door was ajar, and I lingered outside, reluctant to enter. I didn’t want to be called out for being late. I also didn’t really want to listen to his lecture. He was explaining the Alanzan heresy and its growing concern to the Osfridian church. All good, Uros-fearing people knew that six glorious angels had served the god since the beginning of creation and that six wayward angels had fallen and become demons. The Alanzans worshipped all twelve angels, dark and light alike, putting them on nearly the same level as the great god in bloodthirsty, sordid rituals.
I knew much of this, as it was a hot topic in noble drawing rooms—one to be marveled at and then dismissed as something “other people” did. I started to push the door open but stopped when I caught sight of Mira, listening avidly, her eyes focused on Mister Bricker. Alanzans were a big faction in Sirminica.
But instead of pondering if she’d encountered them, I found myself admiring her beautiful profile. It was impossible not to. Her quiet, fearless manner made her mysterious and alluring in a way few could match. Certainly not me. Were those striking eyes holding a dark secret? Had she been Cedric’s mistress?
That ugly feeling started to rise up within me again, and I banished it as I pushed open the door and stepped inside. I took my seat, hoping the scent of vetiver would soon fade from my dress.
Chapter 6