Tournament of Ruses Read online

  She wanted to tell them to go on without her, but she could just imagine her father’s horror if she alienated the most fashionable girls at Mrs. Olivette’s Conservatory in under a week. “I’m coming,” she replied in resignation.

  When she joined them back on the street moments later, they looked up from their cluster and Georgiana smiled triumphantly. “Here you are! We had almost given up, leaving you for lost among that frightful sea of books! Shall we stop in for a cake and a warm drink on our way home?”

  The biggest problem with living on Lords’ Row was that all the other lords and their families lived there as well. Flora had wanted a quiet walk home tonight, but now she wouldn’t be rid of this pack until she was at her own door again. She couldn’t very well lie and say she had somewhere else to be.

  In quiet dejection, she fell in step behind the crowd and wondered whether anyone would notice if she just slipped away. Georgiana seemed to read her thoughts, for she suddenly backtracked and hooked her arm through Flora’s. Just ahead, Dorothea glanced jealously over one shoulder.

  Flora averted her eyes but kept walking. Georgiana prattled about nothing in particular, as seemed to be her wont, and Flora made the appropriate sounds at the appropriate intervals to show that she was listening, even though she wasn’t. In fact, her attention wandered so far that she was jarred by Georgiana’s sudden halt.

  The others had stopped as well, their eyes trained ahead. “What’s wrong?” Flora started to ask, but her blood froze when she turned to discover the beatific smile that was slowly spreading across Georgiana’s face. Flora had never seen an expression so contrived in her life.

  “Why, Viola!” Georgiana cried, and she released her hold on Flora to move forward. “What a surprise to meet you here!”

  Flora peered past Dorothea and Augustina to catch her first glimpse of Viola Moreland. She expected to see a brass-faced, brash young woman, scandalously attired and simpering over the nearest young man. Instead, she looked upon a modestly dressed maiden with pale blonde hair and the prettiest eyes Flora had ever seen. The only thing plain about Viola Moreland was her attire, which was not so much simple as efficient. Flora was instantly envious.

  Viola’s attitude was calmly distant as she glanced up from the shop window she had been studying. “Oh, Miss Winthrop, hello,” she said to the quickly advancing Georgiana.

  Flora wished she could accomplish such a disinterested tone of voice. It rather plainly asked Georgiana to keep walking without having to say as much. Georgiana wasn’t one for taking subtle hints, though.

  “Oh, Viola, it’s Georgiana! We are friends enough to use first names, I should think. Your dear brother Charles has called me Georgiana for months now!”

  Viola smiled faintly. “Georgiana, of course,” she said in a tone that indicated that, far from observing decorum with the pretty young woman, she had simply forgotten her name.

  Georgiana did not like to be forgotten. “Oh, what a pretty little bonnet you are wearing this afternoon,” she cooed condescendingly. “I had one quite like it three years ago.”

  “Viola, dear,” said Priscilla, “if you have some insight that that style will be coming back into fashion, you really should drop us a hint.”

  “Have you been out fetching groceries?” asked Dorothea. “How useful you are! My mother always sends her servants, but I suppose the Prime Minister’s family carries on quite differently than ours does.”

  “This cold weather is doing wonders for your skin, Viola,” said Augustina. “You’re usually so pale as to look anemic, but you seem almost to be rouged right now.”

  Viola’s reaction to these sugar-coated attacks was one of bewilderment, like a small woodland creature who had suddenly been cornered by hungry tigers. Flora knew just what it felt like, because she had suffered through it nearly every day this week. Watching someone else was entirely different than experiencing it firsthand, though. Flora didn’t mind them picking on her. She minded very much that they were picking on Viola.

  And so, she did something that was very un-Flora-like indeed. She screamed.

  “A bee! There’s a bee!”

  In the shrieking chaos that erupted, Flora dashed between the flailing girls, snatched Viola’s arm, and dragged her down the nearby alleyway. She had not stopped to think where she was going, had not stopped to consider that she was new to the city and did not know her way around. She simply acted on instinct, turning corners one after another until she was out of breath and forced to stop.

  Viola, strangely enough, had allowed herself to be led. They both doubled over, panting vaporous puffs into the cold air.

  “S-sorry,” said Flora when she was first able. “C-couldn’t… take it…”

  Next to her, Viola clutched at a stitch in her side. Her basket of groceries hung from her arm at a skewed angle. “Was there no bee?” she asked, bewildered.

  “No,” said Flora. “Sorry.”

  “I thought it was the wrong season, but that maybe one had wandered away from the… Um, do I know you?”

  “No,” Flora said, and she peered nervously back the way they had come to see if they had been followed. “We haven’t met. I’m—”

  “Viola! Viola, where are you, darling?”

  As this new and very masculine voice rang out, a look of pure consternation crossed Viola’s face. Flora watched in growing embarrassment as a very handsome young man bounded around the corner into sight. “Honestly, I’m gone for five minutes, and you run off on me,” he began, but he stopped short upon seeing Flora.

  “Oh, hello,” he said pleasantly.

  Her cheeks burned. Instinctively she wished the earth would split and swallow her whole.

  He seemed not to notice. Instead, “You’ve been making friends, darling!” he cried joyfully to Viola. He tried to hug her, but she self-consciously ducked out of his way.

  “Will,” she whispered, “what have I told you about calling me ‘darling’ in public?”

  “But in private it’s all right?” he asked, seemingly unconcerned by her rejection. Viola blushed a deep crimson, but the man, Will, generously turned his attention on Flora. “Who’s your friend?”

  Viola recovered her wits quickly enough. “I was just about to discover that when you came barging into the conversation. I was suddenly descended upon by a pack of harpies while I was waiting for you, and she was kind enough to save me from them.”

  “I’m sorry,” Flora said again. “It was terribly presumptuous of me. I’m Flora, by the way.”

  “Nice to meet you Flora By-the-way,” said Will, and he extended one jovial hand. “The name’s William Aureus, but you can call me Will, if you’d like. Any friend of Viola’s is a friend of mine.”

  As Flora shook his hand, she noticed a strange expression cross Viola’s face.

  “Are you Flora Dalton?” Viola asked with a troubled frown.

  Will froze mid-handshake. “Oh, how awkward,” he said, and a rakish grin sprang to his lips.

  Flora looked between them in troubled confusion. “Do you know me? How do you know my name?”

  Will’s other hand closed over the top of hers in a more intimate gesture. “Oh, dear Flora, I am infinitely pleased to make your acquaint—oof!” He released his hold quite suddenly when Viola thrust her elbow into his ribcage.

  “Don’t pay him any heed,” she said reassuringly. “He’s an idiot. It’s very nice to meet you, Miss Dalton.”

  “But how did you know my name?” Flora insisted. She had never even heard the name Viola Moreland until today, so it seemed unfair that Viola Moreland already knew of her.

  From his hunched position, Will started to laugh. “Of course she knows your name, Miss Flora,” he said, and he flashed her a grin. “Why wouldn’t she? You’re the very first rival in love she’s ever had!”

  Chapter Two: Of Fathers and Fortunes

  I don’t know how I can ever show my face at Mrs. O’s again. Maybe I can play sick, and then scuttle back to the countryside while
no one’s looking. Or maybe I can just detour to Graham’s every day instead. Dad wouldn’t discover the truth unless he made inquiries when he went to pay next month’s dues.

  I do not want to go back! Not only did I completely interfere when the Frivolous Four were trying to bully Viola Moreland, but I’ve discovered now why they’re all so nice to me!

  Ooh, I could throttle my dad’s neck! If I didn’t know that he had my best interests at heart, I would throttle his neck. I know he means well, but this is exactly the sort of scheming I despise! It is utterly humiliating! Who asked to be presented as the first viable candidate for consort to the Eternal Prince? I don’t want to marry someone hundreds of years older than me! If I ever do marry, I want it to be to someone nice and cheerful and young! And if he likes gardening, all the better!

  “What do you mean, rival in love?” Flora asked, completely bewildered now. “I’m not anyone’s rival in love!”

  “Pay him no heed, Miss Dalton,” said Viola. “I told you, he’s an idiot.”

  “But she is your rival,” said Will, “and I would greatly appreciate it if you would stop calling me an idiot. Just because you’re still mad at me—”

  “Can’t you see you’re upsetting her?” Viola hissed.

  The rising panic that Flora battled wasn’t because of Will in particular. It was the whole situation, the implication that her name was connected to some item of gossip she knew nothing about, and which had spread to social circles far beyond Mrs. Olivette’s Conservatory. “Please,” she said, “what did you mean? Why would you say that I’m her rival?”

  “Because you are,” he replied, as though the answer were just that simple.

  Viola elbowed him again, but she also took pity on the confused Flora. “Miss Dalton, surely you’ve heard that the Eternal Prince announced his intention to take a consort?” Next to her, Will chortled. Viola glared at him in silent rebuke.

  Flora didn’t understand the meaning behind this little interchange. “That’s practically all the girls at the Conservatory will speak of,” she replied with foreboding, “and I’m thoroughly sick of hearing about it. What’s it got to do with me?”

  Will was shaking with ill-contained laughter now. Viola swatted him with the back of her hand before she continued. “Weren’t you aware that your father, Lord Dalton, was the one to petition for the Prince to make his choice from among all the lords’ daughters?” she asked gently.

  “Viola was a sure shot for consort,” said Will, “but now the Prince has to consider a load of girls, and you’re at the very top of the list thanks to your dear old dad. He’s the only one who had guts enough to speak out and make the request, so he was rewarded for his efforts, and you get first consideration. Poor Viola has some competition now!”

  “I never—!” Flora sputtered in complete horror. “I don’t want to be consort!”

  “I can sympathize with you there,” said Viola, glaring again at her companion. “This whole business is causing more trouble than it’s worth. I only wish that the Prince had thought of that before making such a rash declaration.”

  “Maybe he’s lonely,” replied Will with an indulgent shrug.

  Mortification engulfed Flora. “Oh, if only Dad had never gotten this awful promotion! I was perfectly happy back home in the country. Miss Moreland, I assure you, I am not your rival.”

  “Oh, no! You must be Viola’s rival,” Will declared. He threw one arm around Viola’s shoulder and hugged her to him. “How am I supposed to win her back if she has no rival?”

  Flora’s confused gaze shifted from Will to Viola and back. It was obvious that he carried a one-sided love, but Flora didn’t know how a rival for the position of consort could help him.

  “You are treading on very thin ice,” Viola whispered to him in warning, though she did not attempt to shake off his arm.

  “Imagine my surprise, Miss Flora,” he continued piteously. “I leave for a few measly months and return to find that my beloved is practically engaged to the Eternal Prince!”

  Viola’s lips thinned as he spoke. “You left for six months, without so much as a goodbye before you went or a letter to say where you were! It would serve you right if I had kicked you right back out the door when you returned!”

  Flora quickly reassessed the couple in front of her: it was not a one-sided love after all.

  “I’ve already explained that,” Will replied in a wheedling voice. “Your father told me in no uncertain terms that I had to be here to stay or else give you up completely. I had things to resolve before I could make that kind of a commitment.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why you left without a word!”

  “I tried to write a note! I did! But it just sounded trite. I couldn’t ask you to wait for me, because I didn’t know how long it would take—and I had very specific instructions not to give you any false hope,” he added, wagging his finger.

  She was somewhat mollified. “You could’ve at least said goodbye,” she grumbled all the same.

  His brilliant eyes rolled skyward, testament of his utter exasperation. “If I had said goodbye, I might’ve cracked and snatched you away with me, all right? And then your father would have been after my head—you think he’s just a mild-mannered gentleman, but he’s absolutely terrifying when he wants to be.”

  Viola looked so thunderstruck by this admission and Will so sheepish in making it that for a moment Flora forgot that she was an intruder upon the scene. “You fit,” she said in wonder. Both sets of eyes snapped to her face, and she realized that she had spoken that observation aloud. “That is, you go together well. You suit each other. I don’t think I can explain it, really.” She thought they might get offended if she told them that they reminded her of an old married couple. That wasn’t entirely it, either. There was just something about the pair that made Flora believe that they belonged together.

  Viola shyly looked away to hide her rising blush. In contrast, a broad smile spread across Will’s face, so dazzling that Flora thought she might faint right there on the spot.

  “There now, see, Miss Flora?” he said. “Now you really must become Viola’s rival for the Prince!”

  His love turned back, ready to do him some more bodily harm for that remark.

  “No,” said Flora firmly, and the bluntness of her answer arrested both of them. “I’ve already told you, I’m not her rival. I don’t want to be anyone’s rival. I just want to go home, back to my garden where there’s space and peace. I’m sorry, Miss Moreland, but you’re on your own to deter the Prince’s affections.”

  “You have no idea,” murmured Viola.

  “Although,” Flora added ponderously, “Georgiana Winthrop plans to cut you out. She’s a much more likely rival than I am—she’s stylish and beautiful, and she’s domineering enough to force everyone around her into deference. Maybe she’ll work her magic with the Prince as well.”

  “Maybe the Prince will work some magic with her,” said Will with a cheeky wink, and Viola thrust her elbow into his side again. “Ouch! Darling!”

  “Stop it,” she retorted. “And don’t pretend not to know what I’m talking about.”

  He straightened almost primly, and his teasing manner disappeared. “Do I know this Georgiana Winthrop?”

  “She’s Lord Winthrop’s youngest daughter,” Viola answered. “You might remember a lovely brunette from the Midsummer’s Eve banquet.”

  “I was a bit too distracted by someone else at that banquet, as you may recall.”

  “Natalia?”

  “Now you stop it,” he said sternly.

  Contrition flashed across her face. “Sorry. Charles danced with Miss Winthrop at least four times that night. She’s been throwing herself at him fairly steadily ever since. It’s too bad to learn how fleeting her affections are, though. I dare say that Charles will be disappointed.”

  “He’ll get over it,” Will remarked. “He’s both sensible and resilient.”

  Flora strongly suspected that
they had forgotten her presence entirely, again. It was not at all comfortable to listen to a conversation in which most of the context was beyond her experience. She had not attended the infamous Midsummer’s Eve banquet, and its noteworthy events had already been discussed more than enough today for her liking.

  “Um,” she interjected, because she knew it would be beyond propriety to simply turn away from the pair and make her retreat, “I think I’ll just be going now. It’ll be dark soon, and my housekeeper will wonder what’s become of me. I’m sorry for the trouble earlier, Miss Moreland.”

  “Can we walk you home?” Will asked before Viola could respond, and that mischievous glint had returned to his eyes. “It’s on our way, I should think—all the lords live on the same row, don’t they, Viola?”

  “She might not want the company, Will,” Viola murmured, wary of Flora’s discomfort.

  “So we stand here and wait five minutes after she’s left to head off that direction ourselves? That doesn’t make sense. And your mother’s probably going to start worrying if you don’t get back soon, too.”

  This reminder changed Viola’s countenance entirely. “I’m sorry, Miss Dalton,” she said, “but we really are headed the same direction. We can find another route if you’ve had enough of our company today, though.”

  Flora opened her mouth and then shut it again. Her eyes darted down the little alleyway where they stood toward the only visible street, and she realized that she had absolutely no clue where she was in relation to her house. “It—it’s fine,” she said timidly. “I don’t want to trouble you, but… actually, after all I think I may be quite lost.”

  “Come along,” said Will. He immediately linked his arm through hers and led her toward the exit.

  Wide-eyed, she looked back over one shoulder to discover Viola following close behind, her expression aloof. The alleyway was too narrow to walk three abreast, but Flora knew well enough that Viola should have been the one on Will’s arm. To her utmost relief, out on the street he paused to offer his other arm to Viola. She took it reluctantly, and they were on their way.