I went to bed, not interested in gossip. Mira stayed a little longer but soon followed me up. Yet, when I woke once in the middle of the night, I could see by the moonlight that her bed was empty. When morning came, she was back.
“Do you want to discuss what happened last night?” she asked as we got ready for the day.
“Are you talking about when you weren’t in your bed again?”
She shook her head. “I’m talking about you and Cedric refusing to make eye contact.”
“Oh.” I turned back to the mirror and pretended to be fixated on pinning back a curl. “We had a fight, that’s all.”
“That can’t be all, not if it’s bringing you both down so much. If you were mad at someone like Jasper or Charles, I’d say not to worry about it. It’s business. You don’t ever have to see them again. But with Cedric . . . I can tell it’s different. There’s a bond there, something I can’t quite put my finger on.”
“I owe him,” I said softly. “And that’s forced me to make some hard choices.” Like choosing him over Tamsin, I thought.
“Do you want to talk about them?”
“Yes. But I can’t.” She started to interrupt, and I held up a hand so I could continue. “I know, I know. I can tell you anything. But that doesn’t mean I should. Not yet, at least. Some things have to stay secret, like why you go out at night. I keep hoping it’s some romance with a dashing and wealthy man, but I doubt it. What I know is that you wouldn’t do it without good reason and that you wouldn’t keep it secret without good reason. That’s how it is with this. There are lots of things I wish I could tell you—”
Mira caught me in a hug. “You don’t have to tell me anything. I trust whatever you’re doing. But . . .” She pulled back and looked me in the eye. “You need to fix things with Cedric. You’re not yourself.”
Her words stayed with me, but I never had a chance to fix anything. Cedric was gone again that day, and the schedule much like the previous one, packed with appointments. Heloise received a marriage offer from the wealthy merchant, which she readily accepted, making her the first of us to seal a contract.
Without her, Clara was bumped up to the top three and accompanied us to the governor’s dinner. Jasper chaperoned us, as Cedric had mentioned, and told us that his son was out with friends. I wondered at that, since as far as I knew, Cedric didn’t have any friends in town. It seemed more likely that Jasper simply wanted the honor of bringing us to such an important event.
“Welcome to our home,” said Mistress Doyle, greeting us personally at the door. Warren’s mother was a striking woman, with no gray in her black hair and a walk full of confidence. I remembered Cedric saying she’d been a baron’s daughter, and the marks of nobility still remained. The governor joined her, and he too was a handsome man, showing a strong resemblance to Warren. His whole nature was gregarious but charismatic, which seemed appropriate for a politician. He soon wandered off, more interested in talking business with other men of the colony than investigating prospective daughters-in-law.
Warren greeted us as well, but it was me he honed in on. Clara and, to my surprise, Mira both made attempts to charm him. Equally astonishing was, well, how good Mira seemed to have become at it. I couldn’t believe any man would be immune to that lovely, knowing smile of hers, but Warren was. As soon as it was polite to do so, he took my hand and led me through the party.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” he said. “I’m excited to show you my family’s home and let you meet some of Denham’s finest citizens.”
Many of the guests I’d already met at the gala and last night’s dinner, and I realized that although this get-together was for Warren’s benefit, other bachelor friends of the governor were scouting us out too.
The house was even finer than the merchant’s. I came to realize that no place in Adoria would have that old, regal feel of the elite in Osfrid. Affluence was displayed in a newer, more modern way, and once I got used to that, I could appreciate the magnificence of the Doyle estate.
“Of course we wouldn’t have anything like this right away,” Warren told me as we entered a conservatory holding a large harp and a few other instruments—great luxuries in the New World. “But I’d make sure we aren’t in some shack either. Eventually, we could achieve this level. That’s what my father did.”
“Has he been governor for long?” I asked, studying a painting. It was by Morel, a famed Lorandian artist, and Warren had acquired it while studying in that country for a year. I wondered if Cedric’s agent had considered the Doyles as potential buyers for my painting.
“Fifteen years.” It was obviously a matter of pride for Warren. “Lord Howard Davis was the governor originally appointed by the king. My father was lieutenant governor, and together, they helped establish Denham and drive out the Icori. When my father took over, he continued that legacy—making this a safe and prosperous place.”