Marguerite, the former Duchess of Torrinni, receives two letters that will change the course of her life forever; and that will impact young Céleste Richel's life too, in more ways than one.
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When Marguerite is forced to return to Torrinni cour...
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The Reading Room clock revealed it was past nine o'clock. Despite the hour, Emeric ordered two cups of tea and a small platter of biscuits and macarons.
"You did not eat dinner, I assume?" he said, as Céleste dug into the pastries like a starving scavenger.
They sat on the couch facing the fire, the flames mighty and warming, the popping sounds soothing. A golden teapot decorated the small table separating them from the fireplace, and several cups rested beside it. The gold-encrusted tray beneath glimmered in the firelight, and the ticking of the clock mirrored Céleste's steady heartbeats.
"Travel suits you." Emeric motioned for a servant to serve them. The scorching liquid poured from the kettle, depositing into the porcelain mugs, filling to the rim. "You look refreshed as ever."
Once finished, the attendant bowed and skittered away, standing at the ready should they need anything else.
"And you, all grown up! Respected by royal staff and handing out money to keep secrets—you fit in here with ease." She smirked as she picked up her drink and blew the steam away.
Emeric laughed. "Yes, well, that is the way of things. And for the role Father assigned me, I must hand out coins. Everything works with money and word-of-mouth at court." He sipped, not waiting for the liquid to cool down, eyes turning a radiant blue as the fog whooshed over them. "Last I saw you, you hid in the Library. Tell me—how many books did you bring with you?"
"Not the Vixen in the Meadows, but a few others." She giggled at the recollection of Emeric finding overly romantic titles in the Academy Library during a visit in her Sophomore year.
He nearly spat out his tea. "You have learned to jest in a perfect ladylike manner! Might you be a lady, now?"
Trying not to take offense at his banter, she squinted at him. "I mayhave grown into my future role."
"You have! When I caught you upstairs your steps were light, your excuses honorable, and your behavior—aside from the hug—prim and proper. I am proud!" He set his teacup down and leaned closer. "So, confess; how are the ladies you came here with?"
She feigned surprise. "How indecent!"
He shrugged. "What? Is that not a valid question? Have I overstepped?"
She brought her cup up and sniffed at the citrus and jasmine scent. When she took a swig, the delicate flavor exploded on her tongue, filling her with delight. "No, you have not. But do you wish to spend our last free evening discussing them?"
Emeric clapped his thigh. "Do not make me beg! We will chat about other things, I promise, but I need to know; are anyof the girls from the Royal Academy worth my time? Would Father approve of them?"
Setting down her cup, she released a theatrical sigh. "You should wait to meet them for yourself." A crooked smile slid across her face.
She remembered Esther's screeching. Harriet's mistrust of everything. Cristina's less than appropriate necklines. Charlotte's snotty reputation, and Julia's clingy nature.
