Chapter 2

I realized then that I was taking the first approach to this “bad thing” with Lionel: I was letting it crush me. And so, I decided then and there that I would choose the nobler, unflinching approach. I would endure the pain.

In the following weeks, I smiled and made my quips and acted as though our household wasn’t being torn apart. While the servants worked and worried about their futures, I calmly went about tasks that were appropriate to young noblewomen, painting pictures and planning my wedding attire. When callers came to wish us well, I sat with them and feigned excitement. More than once, I heard the arrangement referred to as a “smart match.” It reminded me of when I was six, when my mother and I had watched Princess Margrete’s wedding procession go by.

The princess had sat in a carriage, waving and stiffly smiling as she held hands with a Lorandian duke she’d only met the week before.

“She looks a little green,” I’d said.

“Nonsense. And if you’re lucky,” my mother had told me, “you’ll make a smart match like that.”

Would my mother have allowed this if she were still alive? Would this have turned out differently? Probably. A lot of things would’ve turned out differently if my parents were still alive.

“My lady?”

I looked up from the canvas I’d been painting, a field of purple and pink poppies copied from one of the great masters in the National Gallery. A page stood in front of me. From the tone of his voice, I could tell this wasn’t the first time he’d spoken to me.

“Yes?” I asked. The word came out a bit more harshly than I’d intended. I’d had an argument with Grandmama this morning about the dismissal of my favorite cook, and it still bothered me.

He bowed, relieved at finally being acknowledged. “There’s a gentleman caller here. He’s, um, making Ada cry.”

I blinked, wondering if I’d misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”

Thea and Vanessa sat beside me, busy with sewing. They looked up from their work, equally perplexed.

The page shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t really understand it myself, my lady. It’s some sort of meeting arranged by Lady Branson. I think she was supposed to be here to supervise but was delayed by business. I settled them into the west drawing room, and when I returned to check on them, Ada was quite hysterical. I thought you would want to know.”

“Yes, certainly.”

And here I’d thought this would be a boring day.

The other ladies started to rise when I did, but I urged them to sit down. As I followed the page back into the house, I asked, “Do you have any idea what this so-called gentleman is here for?”

“Another position, I believe.”

I felt a small pang of guilt. Staff cuts had begun, and Ada was one of the ladies being dismissed from my entourage. I’d been able to keep only one. Lady Dorothy had assured me the replacements who’d been selected under her close supervision were exemplary, but I was pretty sure their chief function would be to spy on me.

As I made my way to the drawing room, I pondered what could have caused this unexpected morning drama. Lady Branson was my grandmother’s chief lady. If she’d arranged a position for Ada, I had to imagine it would be something respectable and not worthy of a breakdown.

“These weren’t tears of joy?” I asked the page, just to clarify.

“No, my lady.”

We entered the room, and sure enough, there was poor Ada, sitting on a sofa and sobbing into her hands. A man, his back to me, was bent over, trying awkwardly to comfort her by patting her shoulder. Immediately, my heart hardened as I wondered what kind of monster had brought this about.

“Lady Witmore, Countess of Rothford,” announced the page.

That startled both Ada and her guest. She lifted her face from her hands, still sniffling, and managed to rise for a small curtsey. The man also straightened, turning to look at me. As he did, the images I’d been building of some old, twisted scoundrel vanished.

Well, maybe he was a scoundrel, but who was I to say? And the rest of him . . . my eyes burned at the sight of him. Deep auburn hair swept back in a short, fashionable tail revealed a face with clean lines and high cheekbones. His eyes were an intense blue-gray, contrasting with skin tanned from being outdoors. That wasn’t fashionable among nobles, but I could’ve deduced he wasn’t one of us from a mile away.

“Your ladyship,” he said, giving a proper bow. “It is a pleasure to meet you.”

I gestured the page away and sat down, a signal for the other two as well. “I’m not sure I can say the same, seeing as you’ve sent my lady-in-waiting into hysterics.”

A chagrined expression crossed that handsome face. “Er, that wasn’t my intent. I’m just as surprised as you. I’d been under the impression that Lady Branson had settled things with her.”

“She did,” exclaimed Ada. I could see new sobs bubbling up within her. “But now that it’s here . . . I just . . . I just don’t know if I want to go!”

He turned on a smile for her, one so confident and so practiced that I was certain he must use it regularly to get his way. “Well, a few nerves are understandable. But once you’ve seen how the other girls live at the Glittering Court—”

“Hold on,” I interrupted. “What is the Glittering Court?” It sounded vaguely brothelish, but that seemed unlikely if Lady Branson had arranged it.

“I’d be happy to explain it, my lady. Assuming you don’t find the logistics boring.”

I looked him over. “Believe me, there’s absolutely nothing about this situation I find boring.”

He turned that gallant smile on me, no doubt hoping it would win me over as it did others. It kind of did. “The Glittering Court is an exciting opportunity for young women like Ada, an opportunity that will transform their lives and—”

“Hold on one more time,” I said. “What’s your name?”

He stood and bowed again. “Cedric Thorn, at your service.” No title, but again, that didn’t surprise me. The more I studied him, the more intrigued I was. He wore a brown coat of light wool that flared slightly at the knee, longer than current trends. A brown brocade vest under the coat caught the light. It was a respectable, subdued outfit, one a prosperous merchant might wear, but a bright amber pin in the hat he held told me he wasn’t entirely without flair.

“My lady?” he asked.

I realized I’d been staring and offered a grand wave of my hand. “Please continue explaining this Gleaming Court of yours.”

“Glittering, my lady. And as I was saying, it’s an exciting opportunity for young women to move up in the world. Ada here is exactly the type of bright and promising girl we’re looking for.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. Ada was by far my most uninteresting maidservant. She was pretty, which, I’d learned, tended to be synonymous with “bright and promising” for most men.

He launched into what had to be a well-rehearsed speech. “The Glittering Court is a highly respected enterprise on both sides of the ocean. My father and my uncle founded it ten years ago after learning just how few women there are in Adoria.”

Adoria? That’s what this was about? I nearly leaned forward and then remembered myself. Still, it was hard not to be taken in. Adoria. The country discovered across the Sunset Sea. Adoria. The very sound of it inspired adventure and excitement. It was a new world, a world far removed from the one in which I was required to marry my itching cousin—but also a world without galleries and theaters and luxuriously dressed nobility.

“There are plenty of Icori women there,” I remarked, feeling the need to say something.

Cedric’s smile broadened, warming his features. Were his eyelashes longer than mine? That certainly seemed unfair.

“Yes, but our colonists aren’t looking for savage Icori wives in kilts and tartans. Well,” he added, “most of our colonists aren’t looking for savage wives. I suppose there’s always someone who finds that appealing.”

I nearly asked what he found appealing and then again reminded myself I was a lady of exalted rank.

“Most of our settlers are looking for gentle, cultured Osfridian wives—especially those men who’ve made their fortunes there. Plenty set sail for Adoria with nothing more than the clothes on their backs and now have found success as businessmen and plantation owners. They’ve become pillars in their communities, men of prestige.” Cedric held up his hands grandly, a performer on his stage. “They want suitable wives to start families with. His Majesty wants it too. He’s ordered the founding of several other colonies and the expansion of current ones—but it’s very difficult when Osfridian men outnumber women three to one. When women do go, they’re usually ordinary, working-class girls who are already married. That’s not what the new nobility is looking for.”

“New nobility?” I asked. I was getting sucked into his pitch. It was a new experience, having someone else turn the powers of persuasion on me.

“The new nobility. That’s what we call them—these ordinary men who’ve found extraordinary greatness in the New World.”

“It’s very catchy. Did you come up with it?”

He looked surprised by the question. “No, my lady. My father did. He’s a master of publicity and persuasion. Far more so than me.”

“I find that incredible. Please—continue with your new nobility.”

Cedric studied me for a beat, and there was something in his eyes. A calculation, or maybe a reassessment. “The new nobility. They don’t need a title or right of birth to claim power and prestige. They’ve earned it through hard work and have become a nobility—of sorts—and now need suitably ‘noble’ wives. But since women of your rank aren’t exactly lining up to sail over, the Glittering Court has taken it upon itself to create a cohort of young women willing to transform. We take lovely girls like Ada here, girls of common birth, girls with no family—or maybe too much family—and we train them up to greatness.”

He’d smiled briefly when he made his comment about noblewomen lining up, like it was a joke between us. I felt a pang in my heart. Little did he know that just then, faced with a lifetime shackled to a sullen cousin and an overbearing grandmother-in-law, I would have given up my regal world and sailed to the colonies in an instant, savage conditions or no. Not that I could have ever made it to the docks without dozens of people trying to usher me back to my proper sphere of society.

Ada sniffled, reminding me she was still here. I’d known her for years, barely giving her a second thought. Now, for the first time ever, I felt jealous of her. She had a world—a new world—of potential and adventure opening up right before her.

“So. You’re going to take Ada to Adoria,” I said. It was difficult keeping my tone light, lest my envy show.

“Not right away,” said Cedric. “First, we have to make sure she’s trained up to Glittering Court standards. I’m sure she’s received some education in your service—but nothing to match your own. She’ll spend a year in one of my uncle’s manor houses with other girls her age, learning all sorts of things to make up for that. She’ll—”

“Wait,” I interrupted. My grandmother would’ve been appalled at the completely haphazard way I was managing this conversation, but this whole situation was too strange for me to get caught up in formalities. “You’re saying she’ll have an education that’ll match mine. In a year?”

“Not an exact match, no. But she’ll be able to pass herself off among upper classes—maybe even the nobility—after that time.”

Knowing Ada as I did, I was again skeptical, but urged him on. “Continue.”

“We’ll start by polishing up her basic education in reading and accounting, and then expand into other more genteel areas. How to run a household and manage servants. Music lessons. How to throw social engagements. What to talk about at social engagements. Art, history, philosophy. Foreign language, if there’s time.”

“That’s very extensive,” I said, casting a curious glance at Ada.

“That’s why it takes a year,” Cedric explained. “She’ll live in one of my uncle’s manors learning all these things and then sail over to Adoria with all the girls from the other manors. If she chooses to go.”

At this, Ada finally came to life. Her head jerked up. “I don’t have to go?”

“Well, no,” said Cedric, a little surprised at the question. He produced a roll of paper from his coat—with a bit of a flourish, if I wasn’t mistaken. “At the end of your year, your contract states you can either choose to go to Adoria to have a marriage made for you or you can leave the Glittering Court, at which point we’ll find a suitable work arrangement to reimburse us for your education.”

Ada looked immensely more cheerful, and I realized she probably thought said arrangement would involve a job similar to what she had now.

“I’m guessing he means a workhouse or a factory,” I said.

Her face fell. “Oh. But it’d still be here. In Osfrid.”

“Yes,” said Cedric. “If you want to stay. But honestly? Who’d pick those kind of long work hours over a chance to be on the arm of a wealthy, doting husband who’ll drape you in silks and jewels?”

“I don’t get to choose him,” she argued.

“That’s not entirely true. When you arrive in Adoria, you and the other girls will have a three-month period in which you’ll be presented to those eligible men who’ve shown interest in our jewels—that’s what my uncle calls the Glittering Court girls.” He turned his smile to its most dazzling, trying to reassure her. “You’ll love it there. The colonial men go crazy when we bring new girls. It’s a season of parties and other social engagements, and you’ll get a whole new wardrobe for it all—Adorian fashions are somewhat different from ours. If more than one man makes an offer for you, then you can choose the one you want.”

Once again, I found myself brimming with jealousy, but Ada still looked uncertain. No doubt she’d heard tales of danger and savagery about Adoria. And, in fairness, some weren’t unfounded. When settlers from Osfrid and other countries had landed in Adoria, there’d been terrible bloodshed between them and the Icori clans living there. Many of the Icori had been driven away, but we still heard stories of other tragedies: diseases, storms, and wild animals, to name a few.

But what were those things compared to the riches and greatness that Adoria offered? And wasn’t there danger everywhere? I wanted to shake some sense into her, to tell her she should take this opportunity and never look back. Surely there could be no greater adventure than this. But she’d never had a sense of adventure, never seen the promise of taking a chance on something she didn’t know. That was part of the reason I hadn’t picked her to come with me to Lionel’s household.

After much deliberation, she turned to me. “What do you think I should do, my lady?”

The question caught me unprepared, and suddenly, all I could think of was my grandmother’s words: You’ll have people making choices for you your entire life. Get used to it.

I felt myself softening. “You have to make your own choices—especially since you’ll be on your own once you leave my service.” I looked over at Cedric, and for the first time, I saw uneasiness on those striking features. He was afraid Ada was going to opt out. Did the Glittering Court have quotas to meet? Was he on the hook to come back with someone?

“Mister Thorn has made it all sound very lovely,” she replied. “But I kind of feel like some trinket being bought and sold.”

“Women always feel that way,” I said.

But in the end, Ada accepted Cedric’s offer anyway because, as she saw it, she had nowhere else to go. Over her shoulder I scanned the contract, which was mostly a more formal explanation of what Cedric had told us. When she signed, I did a double take.

“That’s your full name?” I asked. “Adelaide? Why don’t you go by that?”

She shrugged. “Too many letters. It took me years to learn to spell it.”

Cedric seemed to struggle to keep a straight face. I wondered if he was starting to question this choice and if Ada could really be made into part of his “new nobility.”

Contract in hand, he stood up and bowed to me. To her, he said, “I have other contracts to deliver this afternoon and some errands to run at the university. You can take the day to pack your things, and our carriage will come to retrieve you this evening and take you to your manor. My father and I will join you along the way.”

“Where is this manor?” I asked.

“I’m not sure which one she’ll be assigned to,” he admitted. “I’ll know by tonight. My uncle maintains four for the Glittering Court, with ten girls each. One is in Medfordshire. Two are in Donley, another in Fairhope.”

They were true country houses then, I noted, placing each location on a mental map. They were each at least half a day from where we were in Osfro.

He delivered a few more last-minute instructions before making motions to leave. I offered to walk him out, which was a bit unorthodox, and took him back toward the garden I’d been in earlier. “University. So you’re a student then, Mister Thorn.”

“Yes. You don’t sound surprised by that.”

“It’s in your manner. And your coat. Only a student would set his own fashion standards.”

He laughed. “I didn’t. It’s actually an Adorian fashion. I’ve got to look the part when I go with the girls.”

“You get to go too?” Somehow, that made this entire thing even more agonizing. “You’ve been there before?”

“Not in years, but—”

He drew up short as we rounded a corner and heard more sniffling. Old Doris the cook was trudging toward the kitchen, trying not to cry as she walked.

“Don’t take this the wrong way . . .” Cedric began. “But there are a lot of tears in your household.”

I shot him a wry look. “Much is changing. Doris won’t be going with us either. She’s blind in one eye, and my cousin doesn’t want her.”

He turned to study me, and I averted my gaze, not wanting him to see how much this decision pained me. In her condition, Doris wasn’t going to have an easy time finding work. It was another argument Grandmama had won. I was losing my edge.

“Is she good?” Cedric asked.

“Very.”

“Excuse me,” he called out to her.

Doris turned in surprise. “M’lord?” Neither of us bothered to correct her error.

“Is it true that your services are for hire? I can understand if someone else has already hired you on.”

She blinked, her one good eye focusing on him. “No, m’lord.”

“There’s an opening over in one of the university’s kitchens. Four silvers a month and room and board. If you’re interested, it’s yours. Although if the thought of cooking for so many is daunting—”

“M’lord,” she interrupted, pulling herself up to her full but short height. “I have overseen seven-course dinners hosting a hundred nobles. I can handle swaggering boys.”

Cedric’s expression remained dignified. “Glad to hear it. Go to the university’s north office tomorrow and tell them your name. They’ll give you more information.”

Old Doris’s mouth dropped, and she looked to me for confirmation. I nodded encouragingly.

“Yes, yes, m’lord! I’ll go right after breakfast’s served. Thank you—thank you so much.”

“Well, that’s lucky,” I told him, once we were alone again. I certainly wouldn’t say so, but I thought it was incredibly kind of him to offer such a thing, let alone notice her. Most didn’t. “Lucky that there was an open position.”

“There isn’t, actually,” he said. “But I’ll stop by and talk to the office today. By the time I’m done, they’ll have an opening.”

“Mister Thorn, something tells me you could sell salvation to a priest.”

He smiled at the old adage. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

We reached the garden and were nearing the exit when he halted again. An expression of disbelief crossed his face, and I turned toward what had caught his eye. My poppies painting.

“That’s . . . Peter Cosingford’s Poppies. I saw it in the National Gallery. Except . . . ?” He trailed off, face full of confusion as he took in the canvas and the pigments beside it.

“It’s a copy. My attempt at a copy. I have others. It’s just something I do for fun.”

“You make copies of great works for fun?” Belatedly, he added, “My lady?”

“No, Mister Thorn. That’s what you do.”

The smile on his face was genuine, and I found I liked it better than the show ones. “Well, I’m pretty sure I could never copy you.”

We’d reached the front gate, and his words made me come to a halt. It was less about their meaning than the way he’d said them. The tone. The warmth. I tried to think of a witty retort, but my normally quick mind had frozen up.

“And if you won’t take offense at me speaking openly . . .” he added quickly.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“It’s just . . . well, I’m a little disappointed I probably won’t ever get a chance to see you again.” Perhaps realizing that was too open, he gave a hasty bow. “Farewell, and best of luck to you, my lady.”

One of the guards outside the gate unlocked it for him, and I watched him walk out the gate, admiring the way the velvet coat hugged his body.

“But you will be seeing me again,” I murmured. “Just wait.”