Olivia smiles at Sebastian, instantly besotted. Like a delicate young rose, she keeps her eyes lowered, looking up at him occasionally under her eyelashes in a flirtatious—but demure—way as Sebastian and Sir Arthur talk. Occasionally, Sebastian glances at me from the corner of his eye, uncomfortable. He’s a bit fidgety.
I’m sure Olivia and Sir Arthur think it’s because he’s so taken with Olivia. But I know the truth—he thinks he’s going to get an ear-full when we leave tonight. But why? Why would he care that he’s basically being partnered up for the evening?
Unless he knows how I feel, and it’s already changing our dynamic.
“Is this your dragon?” Olivia says, leaning down to pet Flink. “He’s very pretty.”
I hold my breath, wondering if he’ll singe her hand. He doesn’t—the traitor. He rubs his head against her palm and chortles, quite happy.
Olivia straightens and gives me a warm smile. “You’re very fortunate this evening, Lady Thane.”
I jump at the name.
“Why’s that?” My tone sounds slightly acerbic, but hopefully it comes off as noble.
Her cheeks turn pink, and she leans close as if to tell me a secret. “A son of one of Father’s good friends has arrived in Grenalda. He’ll be here this evening as well. I’ll make sure he’s seated by you at dinner.”
Just then, the steward opens the entryway doors, welcoming a man inside. Beside me, Sebastian mutters a curse under his breath that no gentleman says.
Because who should stride into the entry, making a grand entrance yet again, looking dashing in his long gray jacket and nicely-fitted gray trousers, is none other than Captain Avery Greybrow.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
You, Captain, are a Rogue
As Olivia promised, the captain’s seated to my left. Sebastian and Olivia are directly across from us, and Sir Arthur sits at the head of the table. The duke is positioned opposite our host, with his wife on one side and middle-aged daughter on the other.
The conversation for tonight’s dinner revolves around exploration, a topic I would usually enjoy, at least to some extent. But not with Avery’s subtle touches making me flighty and nervous—a gentle caress under the table, a hand nudging a stray curl behind my ear, knuckles brushed down my arm when no one is looking.
Someone, however, is always looking. And that someone isn’t being the gentleman Olivia had hoped he’d be. Sebastian’s distracted, a bit abrupt.
“So, you want to see my map of the wildlands,” the duke says, reclining in his seat now that he is finished.
Sebastian nods. “Yes, Your Grace. We have been sent by Baron Malcomny of Baywhite to locate a Moss Forest orchid. He is hoping for a cutting for his extensive horticultural collection.”
The duke drums his fingers on the table. “Grenalda’s wildlands are just that—wild. I’m not sure you know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“That is why,” Sebastian answers, undeterred, “we are putting our faith in Sir Arthur’s renowned skills as an explorer and cartographer. We believe that if we wish to find the orchids, we must consult the man most knowledgeable on the wildlands…and the man who owns the one-of-a-kind map.”
The duke puffs up. “Yes, I’m afraid without my help, you’ll be dead in a day.”
I almost roll my eyes but manage to restrain myself. Avery squeezes my hand under the table. When I glance at him, he wears a knowing smirk. I ignore him and turn back to the conversation.
“I think I have a way we can both benefit,” the duke continues. “Our greenhouses sadly do not boast Grenalda’s most infamous plant. If you could, say, bring me back a cutting or two as well, I believe I would be willing to let you study my map.”
“We would be most grateful, and we would, of course, assist you in any way we can.”
“Come to my ball tomorrow—you and your lovely sister. We’ll have a look at that map you’re so interested in,” the duke says jovially. He’s had a bit too much to drink, and his cheeks have taken on a rosy hue.
Sebastian meets my eyes, smug.
“And I’m sure my son would very much like to make your acquaintance, Lucia. It’s a shame he couldn’t make it tonight.”
Sebastian’s smug look is replaced with one of mild irritation.
When the duke is distracted, Avery leans close. “I’m not sure you’ll care for his son. Best stay close to me tomorrow. I’ll keep you away from all the unsavory characters who come to these affairs, hoping to find someone new and pretty to woo.”
I give the captain an incredulous look, trying not to smile. “And who will save me from you?”
Chuckling under his breath, he returns to the conversation. I catch Sebastian watching me, but before I can make a face at him—remind him to be amicable at the very least—he looks away.
After dinner, we retire to an intimate sitting room. Duke Eldemyer lounges in a chair, and he looks as if he’s settled in for the night. The men talk about the ruling families of the provinces—gossip, really. We go on about the weather and how cool it’s been for this time of year. And finally, we speak of Eldemyer’s ball.
“I will be looking forward to it.” Sebastian rises from the bench in front of the fire. “Now, we must be going.”
“So soon?” Olivia asks, obviously disappointed.
He gives her a friendly smile, though not a very encouraging one. “My sister tires easily.”
I raise an eyebrow, staying silent.
Next to me, on our own bench, Avery takes my hand and brushes his lips over it, lingering longer than necessary. “Lady Thane doesn’t appear the least bit weary. I had hoped to ask her to join me for a walk. The moon’s still quite full tonight, and the shore is beautiful in the moonlight.”
Olivia looks as if she may swoon, but I barely hear Avery after his use of my fictional title. He caught onto the sibling fib quickly, adopting it easily into his conversation, regaling the group with the tale of finding us stranded at sea. But it’s the first time he’s called me “Lady Thane.” A name which makes me think nothing of being Sebastian’s sister.
“Perhaps another time.” Sebastian’s tone doesn’t leave room for argument, but Avery smirks anyhow, hoping to get a rise out of him.
I stand before this progresses any further. “I am a bit tired, actually.”
Olivia watches Sebastian, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, waiting for him to ask if he may call on her again.
“It was lovely to meet you,” he says, bowing over her hand only briefly.
A smile flickers on her face, but it’s quickly extinguished. “You as well, Lord Thane.”
“Sebastian is fine,” he tells her.
At that, hope once again kindles in her eyes.
I watch the pair and attempt to subtly roll my shoulders, ready to leave. Avery catches me and gives me a slow-burning smirk, correctly pinpointing the internal source of my irritation. “Walk with me in the front gardens while your brother says his goodbyes.”
He’s already taking my arm, leading me into the hall and down those glorious stairs.
“You lied to me, Lucia,” he says, mock-hurt.
Away from prying eyes, I yank at my undergarments, trying to shove the corseted basquine into a more comfortable position. “There are a great many things I may have lied to you about, Captain. Which one are you referring to?”
He watches me fuss with my clothing, amusement shining in his eyes. “You’re in love with Sebastian.”
“Love is a strong word,” I snarl, realizing this wretched thing isn’t going to budge. Then I look up, exasperated. “And what does it matter to you?”
“Hold still,” he says, his voice low. He pulls me flush against him, shushing me when I protest, and begins rubbing my shoulders.
“What are you doing?” I demand, but I don’t pull away.
“I know a trick.” His words tickle my neck, and I find myself leaning into him, barely breathing. His hands continue to work my tired muscles, melting away the stress of the e
vening. “You seemed tense.”
“You are the worst sort of rogue,” I whisper as I rest my forehead against his chest, but I laugh as I say it.
He cocks his head to the side. “I assure you, I could be a worse sort of rogue.”
Sebastian clears his throat, and I whirl around, out of Avery’s embrace, the very picture of guilt. Avery knew he was coming. He had to have seen him walking our way.
“We must be going, Lucia.” My partner’s voice is cold and sharp.
Embarrassed, I glare at Avery. In response, the captain crosses his arms and grins. “I expect I’ll see you at the ball tomorrow, Lucia.”
“Good evening, Captain.”
Avery nods, acknowledging his dismissal. With an easy, self-satisfied sort of stride, he makes his way back into the manor.
I rub the back of my neck. “Nothing happened.”
Sebastian starts toward the street. “Nothing happened? So ‘nothing’ is standing in a darkened garden with a man’s arms wrapped intimately around you as he whispers into your ear?”
“You’re doing it again.” I grab his arm, yanking him back to me. “And do you know what it’s starting to seem like?”
Sebastian glances at my hand, which is holding him in place. “What, Lucia?”
“It seems like you might be envious of Avery.”
Too much happened tonight, and my emotions are high. There’s no backtracking now, and I’m not sure I want to. I watch as Sebastian balks, his expression unreadable. “I care about your well-being, and the only explanation you can come up with is that I’m jealous of that snake-tongued pirate? What do I have to be envious of?”
I tilt my chin in the air and look away.
“It’s late,” he finally says. “We’ll talk about this later.”
Which is Sebastian for “we’ll never speak of it again.”
Nodding a silent agreement, I follow him back. He doesn’t take my arm, doesn’t treat me like the lady we pretended all night I was. And though it’s foolish, I’m disappointed.
“I’m working tonight,” I say as I step into my room in the inn.
Sebastian, who’s already halfway through his door, stops. “Why? We made plenty today, even after purchasing your gowns.”
“After putting on such airs, it’s probably best I remember my place in the world, don’t you think?”
“No, I don’t think.”
I watch him for a minute, but then silently slip into my room. The dress is like a cage, and nearly as difficult to get out of.
After fighting with it for at least fifteen minutes, I’m finally dressed in my last pair of old trousers and a muslin shirt that’s seen better days. Quietly, so Sebastian doesn’t come out and lecture me again, I slip down the hall and into the street. Hopefully, I can find a tavern that’s a little more lively than last night.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Isn’t That Charming
The tavern’s wild. It’s absolute chaos—which shouldn’t surprise me considering I stepped over an unconscious, inebriated man just to get through the door.
Three men sing in the corner—some sailor’s song that’s so slurred, I can’t imagine what language it’s in, and most at the tables join them. A harried-looking minstrel looks on, probably wondering why the men stole his job and if he’s going to make any money for the evening. I quickly scan the massive room and spot three barmaids behind the counter, two out on the floor, and one attending the men on the half balcony above us.
I step in a puddle of what I hope is spilled drink as I make my way to the back, and by the time I reach the scarred, wooden counter, I’ve received one marriage proposal and two propositions that aren’t nearly as decent.
“Need an extra hand?” I yell to a pretty woman in a sunny yellow bodice who appears to be in charge, hoping she can hear me over the noise.
She glances up as she hefts a tray of drinks onto her shoulder and shoves a chocolate curl out of her face with her free hand. She studies me and frowns. “You waited tables before?”
“Yes, Ma’am. Every night for a year back in Kalae.”
The woman looks like she doesn’t believe me, but another group walks in the front door, eliciting a gleeful cry from the room. With a sigh, she nods. “You’re pretty enough, I suppose. Put on an apron.”
With ease, I hoist myself onto the bar, swing my legs to the other side, and jump to the back, off to locate said apron. I find a cook pulling some kind of fowl from the oven. The aroma is indescribable—a sweet mix of fruit and spices I have no name for. Sebastian would probably like it.
Just thinking of him makes my stomach churn. Things were going so well. Why did I let myself get in that predicament with Avery? Why did I have to ask Sebastian questions I don’t want the answer to?
“My name’s Lucia, and I’m working tonight,” I tell the cook as I slip the apron over my head. It’s long, ruffled, and obviously meant to be worn with a dress. It looks ridiculous with my trousers. “Any tips for me?”
The man looks up and smiles as he takes in my outfit. “Don’t linger with the pirates.”
I glance at the room. “Stay clear of the men with eye patches and parrots. Got it.”
Of course, there’s not a man with either of those in the establishment.
“See there? You’ll be fine.” The cook laughs and goes back to his task.
The evening flies by in a flurry of rum, smoke, and song. The men are better behaved than I expect—most of them are sailors on shore leave who are young enough to still care that their mamas warned them to treat women nicely. There are a few old codgers—grumpy goats who are impossible to please, but even they keep their hands to themselves. The only man who got a bit familiar with one of the girls was tossed, tail first, into the street. That might have something to do with the crowd’s surprising manners. All in all, despite the madness, the owners run a nice establishment.
It’s long past the middle of the night, and I’m dead on my feet. The tavern has finally quieted, and the men that remain are in pensive moods, most talking about disasters waiting for them at sea. I try not to linger near them; their tales of serpents and sirens and unnatural storms make me nervous.
“You did good tonight,” Madella, the woman I spoke with earlier, says as she finally takes a seat.
“Is it always like this?” I ask.
“Only when a ship comes in.”
The cook joins us. He wipes his hands on a brightly-colored kitchen cloth and grins. “Which means it’s always like this.”
“People here have had a long sea voyage. It’s usually a little wild, but our patrons are well behaved for the most part.” Madella shares a secret smile with the cook.
“Wait,” I say, catching them. “What was that?”
The cook laughs, and Madella leans close. “I charm the tankards with a gentle amicability spell. It keeps the men on their best behavior. Everyone has a nice time while they’re here, and I make more than any tavern in Mesilca.”
I gape at her. “How many magic users live here?”
After the man on the dock, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re a city of mages.
“Magic’s thick in Grenalda.” Madella grins. “We put it to good use.”
I shake my head, dazed. There’s magic back home, of course. But your average barmaid doesn’t go around charming dishes. I, personally, have no idea how to even go about it.
“They had you running tonight,” Madella says changing the subject. “How’d you do on tips?”
I wince, realizing this must be one of those places that demands a share. I pull the coins from my apron pockets and heap them into a pile on the bar. I nod for her to take her cut. “I did well enough.”
The pretty barmaid shakes her head. “Oh no, you keep them. I made plenty of my own.”
There’s no need to tell me twice; I’m already scooting the coins into my pouch.
With a smirk, Madella nods toward the entrance. “Just to thank you for helping tonight, I’ll let you tak
e the tall bit of handsome who just walked in the door. Better be quick, or one of the other girls will beat you to him.”
She stands, and with her back to the entrance, fans herself as if it’s suddenly grown too warm. “Oh, you dropped a coin.”
She kneels, picks it up, and then tosses it at me. I catch it, wondering how it fell, and then shove it into my small satchel with the others. With a wink and an exaggerated sigh, Madella picks up a tray of empty tankards and heads to the kitchen with the cook trailing behind her.
My shoulders go tense. Somehow, I know without a doubt Avery stands behind me. Bracing myself, I turn.
But it’s Sebastian who stands in the doorway, with Flink tagging along behind him. My partner looks about the room with a hint of disgust in his expression. This is not his world. The dragon, however, doesn’t seem to mind the tavern. He sniffs the ground, nosing for scraps.
Despite the damp chill in the air, Sebastian’s left his usual jacket behind, and he wears only an emerald doublet over a loose white shirt. I catch myself admiring his shoulders. They are far broader than they were when we were young. A dark brown leather belt lays at his hips, boasting a variety of weapons—his rapier, two daggers, and a knife. I find myself thinking things I have no right to think, especially after our argument earlier.
As I study him, he, unaware, runs a frustrated hand through his hair as he searches the tavern for someone who is probably me.
I push my inappropriate, smitten thoughts away. Just as I’m walking toward Sebastian, one of the other barmaids intercepts. Apparently, Madella likes her staff to be young and pretty because the regular girls are gorgeous. This caramel-haired, blue-eyed girl might be the most striking of the bunch.
Sebastian, ever polite, gives her a nice smile (the one he never bestows on me) and shakes his head, declining her offer for refreshment. She none-too-subtly thrusts her chest forward, puts on a pout, and runs her hand up his arm.
Again, he shakes his head, this time stepping back. Undeterred, the girl closes the distance between them. I watch, half-amused by the uncomfortable expression on Sebastian’s face and half-irked because… I don’t want to think of why.
Moss Forest Orchid (Silver and Orchids Book 1) Page 13
