The Royces invited them to lunch as well, and as the house of Fallmire was only a few hours by carriage up the road, Talia had little reason to refuse—especially as they offered to introduce them to other friends coming up from Cavaline. Lucia was grateful for the chance the Royces gave her to change into more appropriate dining attire. Her décolletage, in particular, was stunning.
That was a word she’d learned from an axe-thrower in Revain, about … was it really four contracts ago? Good times; for a moment, she forgot the Calamity.
Walter departed to bring in the two other guests for the luncheon, and Lucia had a moment to freshen up for the meal. Which was fortuitous, since Talia dragged her away for a private word.
Once sequestered in a side room, Talia turned to her ‘wife’ and fixed her with a death glare. “You. Are. Infuriating,” she said.
“I try,” Lucia said, meeting the glare with her own, though she could not hope to match the former’s intensity. “What did I do this time, my sweet?”
“What did you—?” Talia spluttered. “Your mind is the most brilliant—but whatever possessed you to—you committed us to hosting a party at the beginning of the season?! The equinox is in three weeks!”
“Intimate,” said Lucia. “Just an intimate party. But even so, it would put us on the social map, which we desperately—”
“What sort of facilities and staff do you think we have at our disposal? I’ve barely been able to move myself into the estate grounds a mere month ago!”
“You …” Lucia stumbled, realizing. “Richmond is your only servant? No. Surely you have a maid staff? Tailor? Groundskeeper? Cook?” At the flat stare she was receiving from Talia in response, Lucia shook her head. “It sounds like I’ll be performing another set of wifely duties this week.”
“Three! Weeks!” And with that, Talia stalked away, her cane a staccato against the wooden floor.
Lucia leaned against a bookshelf. The Duke did have a point there. The list of things to prepare for any kind of soiree or luncheon started to mount in her mind. To begin, they’d need to send out invitations tout de suite. Lucia certainly hadn’t made life easy for the House and its soon-to-be-hired staff.
On the plus side, she’d doubtless need to commission an appropriate wardrobe for the occasion. She smiled at the thought.
***
Annalynn led Talia and Lucia out onto the Royce’s grounds for the luncheon out of doors. In the distance, a much more official looking carriage trundled up the drive to the carriage house. She wondered, briefly, what other guests would be dining with them.
She found out soon enough as she saw Walter lead two men up the walk towards the outdoor picnic area. These two were dressed in inquisitor grays, which made Lucia shiver. There were few men in this world a demon feared more than inquisitors.
She remembered her summoning was unlicensed. These men would stop at little to exorcise her, if they knew.
Blossoming within the woman beside her was a flare of anger, which settled down into the typical deep-seated hatred. Lucia turned her head to look at the Duke, whose eyes were fixed on the shorter of the two men being led up to the table.
“Who is it, my dear?” Lucia asked.
“Lindell, Henry Lindell,” Talia murmured softly, indicating the man she was staring at, his face at first blush utterly forgettable. “The man, the absolute snake who masterminded my father’s demise.”