Three hours on the road saw them reach Talia’s neighbors at the Royce estate, where Richmond drew their carriage into the carriage house. Momentarily they were presented with a change of clothing befitting a social call. Talia dressed conservatively, as ever, and Lucia pulled on a riding dress that better suited her figure—relatively speaking. She noticed dresses cut for both feminine and masculine figures available, and wondered at that for half a moment before joining her ‘wife’ in the walk up to the estate house.
Lucia lightly tousled her hair, making it seem wind-swept, as she walked up the path, arm in arm with the Duke. Royce manor looked newly built, in a style Lucia wasn’t familiar with. The front door was almost entirely fashioned of glass, a material that seemed impossible to work with for architects of even a century earlier—mainly saved for holy sanctuaries and the like, beyond simple, small, fragile windowpanes.
A servant showed them in. Low, polite voices came in from the sitting room. Lucia blinked and refocused on the present as she passed through the manor door, half a step behind her ‘wife.’
“The Duke and Lady of the House of Fallmire,” came the servant’s introduction as the couple walked into the sitting room.
A light voice from within gave welcoming noises as they entered. It belonged to a slim man in his own riding skirts—by the dead god, he pulled them off better than Lucia ever could! Fashion had also taken a turn for the better in her century away. He rose to kiss her hand.
“I am Walter, and you look absolutely radiant,” he said, then added sotto voce, “We are lucky you arrived when you did—my husband Raleigh was about to bore us with another story of the war.”
“Bore?” came a jocular laugh from the seat beside Walter’s. Lucia saw it belonged to a large, broad shouldered and broad bellied man. “Oho, now I know what you really think of me.”
“Love you,” Walter smirked as he took his seat again.
Between the two men sat a girl of hardly more than eleven years. She stood and offered a curtsy to Talia and Lucia, introducing herself as Annalynn.
Talia looked entirely out of her depth. Lucia took the girl’s hand and spoke. “We apologize for arriving late. I am Lucia, and this is my wife, the Duke of Fallmire,” she introduced. “I don’t think I’ve ever had the pleasure.”
She took her seat beside Talia, facing the Royce family. The table between them had four full glasses of wine awaiting the adults.
“Pleased to meet you,” said Walter, “but we know the Duke from … oh, was it the lovely ball you attended last week in Cavaline? Yes, that was it. The Duke here spoke so warmly of you we knew we just had to see you the moment you arrived. Welcome to Bainbury, the Royce estate.”
“It’s lovely,” Lucia said, not entirely without sincerity.
“Oh, it is a lovely place here, very old money, but my dear old husband just doesn’t know what to do with it.” Walter’s voice was musical.
“Now I know why I don’t invite guests here more often,” Raleigh rumbled. “I’d do it even less if this uncalled-for abuse keeps up.”
“Oh, believe you me, he loves it,” Walter winked at Talia, then shared an amorous look with his husband, interrupted only with a mew from the door as the Royce’s cat joined the company.
“Empress!” cooed Annalynn, breaking her seen but not heard vigil. She stood to scoop up the feline, much to the latter’s chagrin, before taking her seat again. Empress, for her part, leapt from Annalynn’s arms the moment the girl relaxed her hold.
“How did you two meet?” said Lucia, one eye on the cat as it prowled among the furniture.
“Oh, I love to tell the story!”
Raleigh snorted. “That’s because you love cocking it up, my rosethorn. No, I’ll tell it.”
“Oh, but I must do the part with—”
“Ah, ah,” Raleigh raised a stubby finger. “You told the story last, with the Houghtons. It is my turn, my right, by all the dead god’s laws.”
“He does tell it better,” Annalynn said.
“Undone by my own daughter.” Walter turned away in anguish for the space of ten seconds before recovering completely as his husband began the tale. Annalynn, for her part, gave Raleigh rapt attention.
“Well, as you may have guessed, I’m an old veteran of the Second War of the Dauphin—terrible business that, but I suppose it couldn’t be helped when he escaped Camora, you know.”
Talia stiffened a fraction at that, but Lucia took her hand and she relaxed.
“Well, the convoy I was a part of was returning to Cavaline, and the upper brass were saying something about a military triumph—oh, right, a parade. I forget you lot aren’t so steeped in military tradition.”
“Rude!” Walter said.
“It’s no complaint, I just know what we military cads are like when we get going about battles and encampments and enfillades … anyway. ‘Triumphs’ are what they used to call them back in the Old World before the Calamity, the old emperors on their war elephants and whatnot, and there’s nothing old generals like more than playing the part of Arlian Emperor—”
“Get to the good part,” whined Annalynn.
Raleigh kissed his daughter right on the crown of her head, which served to quiet her for the moment.
“Anyways, my leg was acting up, see—never been the same since the battle of Aria when I took a ball to the knee. But I was acting commander of my platoon, you understand? I couldn’t very well beg leave and force them to march on without me! It was a right conundrum; I tell you what. But that was when a particular nurse from the convoy approached me—”
“Mmm,” Walter hummed. “He was an absolute wreck,” he said.
“Well, it was years ago, and I was not a complete wreck back then. In fact, my knee has nearly healed by now—though you might catch me limp around if you stay for lunch, Sir Fallmire,” he said, nodding to Talia. “Ah! Or do you prefer to use your rank—”
“Please,” she said. “Just Talia, between old military hands,” and she did a passable chuckle. Gods, this woman was useless on this conversational battlefield. Lucia could believe she had been raised from the common people; she was entirely out of her depth, military bearing or no.
“She doesn’t like to think of her time in the service,” Lucia said smoothly, as she took her ‘wife’s’ arm. “Though, if you must know, she’s really a hopeless romantic at heart. My captain,” and Lucia sighed dramatically as she laid her head down on Talia’s shoulder.
Talia opened her mouth, closed it, then blinked a few times.
“Oh, that’s so sweet!” said Walter. “But, oh goodness, this story must be stirring bad memories for you! I am deeply ashamed and apologize—”
Lucia jabbed Talia subtly; well, subtle enough. Empress also chose that moment to leap onto Talia’s lap.
“Mm! I mean, no, please go on. It’s cute, and I, uh,” another jab, “am glad something good came out of that war.”
Satisfactolly response, Lucia supposed. Wait, or was it satisfac-tory? -tony? Ugh. This language.
“Well,” said Walter, taking the stage again. “I knew of this particular salve that would numb up a finger, a thumb, or even a whole limb—it’s pretty dangerous if you don’t know how to use it, but I couldn’t think of anything else. And of course, he had nothing to fear from me,” and Walter waggled his eyes. “We numbed the leg right up, put it in a brace, and he practiced walking without a crutch. He walked that whole parade, my soldier.”
“Hmph. The salve was wearing off near the end,” said Raleigh, stroking his mustaches.
Walter laughed, a sound like the clearest bell. “Isn’t he the cutest?”
“How long have you been married?” said Lucia, envying them. Just a little. A bit.
“Oh, our first anniversary is this summer,” said Walter. “We’d prefer to remain paramours, but our dear Annalynn lost her home last year, so that was the cue for Raleigh to drop to one knee, as it were!”
“Lover-ly! Are you planning anything special for the anniversary?” said Lucia.
(“Yes, lovely,” Talia corrected absentmindedly. Lucia jabbed her again).
“Oh, just a little soiree, a small thing—”
“You’ll be receiving an invitation,” said Raleigh.
“Oh, but that goes without saying, my dear! Of course they’ll be invited!”
“We’d be honored,” Talia said after another nudge from Lucia.
Lucia broke in, “And of course, you’d be invited to our own get-together to open the spring season. Nothing too large, of course—my dearest prefers things stay more intimate—but we’ll be sure to send you an invite.”
“Oh, thank you!” said Walter, as Raleigh rumbled, “That’s very kind of you.”
Talia visibly paled. Well, they had to throw some sort of party. Every House did. Was the Duke unaware?
Walter cast his eyes around as the conversation lulled. Then, he dramatically ‘noticed’ the pianoforte, which loomed ominously on the other side of the sitting room. “Oh, do either of you play?”
Lucia and Talia both made noncommittal noises. Empress mewed again.
“Ah, but I do, nearly as well as my dear Annalynn!” Walter jumped up with a flourish. “I love playing a good waltz!”
Walter could technically play—but the pianoforte wasn’t tuned in any sense of the word. On the other hand, Lucia realized, it would not have helped matters much if it was.