“Idiot. That’s not why I put her in the stocks.” Madi drummed her fingers on the table. “It was an honest mistake. She looked like a laborer but had too much jewelry and beans on her. I pegged her for a thief, is all. Elkart sensed her distress and Quintin came and cleared up my suspicions.”
“How do you know she wasn’t an outlaw?” Ophelia pleated the edge of her sari. “As much as I respect and admire Quintin, a relationship with him is hardly proof of her innocence. If she had jewels that didn’t belong to her—”
“The jewels were hers,” Quintin interrupted flatly. If only he hadn’t confessed his attraction to Em when he thought she was a mere thief. Would Ophelia be able to guess the truth?
“I know better than you the lengths people will go to in order to free their loved ones from the stocks,” Madi told Ophelia, her voice dripping scorn. “I made Quintin speak mind-to-mind. He explained she was a Trilord’s daughter in disguise. She’d snuck out to meet him. Nobles are so strange about sex. A grown woman shouldn’t have to resort to such tricks to see a man.”
“Ha! I knew it.” Terin slapped the table. “I offered her the greatest pleasures a woman can experience, and she put me to work scrubbing bird shit off the statuary.”
Ophelia blinked at him. “What are you talking about?”
“I thought she might be shy, or merely have tender feelings for you. Now it all fits.” Terin wagged a finger at Quintin. “You are fornicating with your fair savior.”
Ulric sprayed a mouthful of wine all over the table. “Your lover is La—”
Terin cuffed him. “Don’t besmirch the name of a Lady in public.”
Ulric rubbed his head while Madi laughed. “You’re the one bragging about propositioning her.”
Acid clawed the back of Quintin’s throat. Had Em truly resisted his charming friend? His fingers cramped around his mug. “I sent you there to help her.”
“Which we did.” Terin waved his elegant fingers dismissively. “Stop glowering at me. I told you, she turned me down flat. You must have unknown talents to inspire such loyalty in your lover.”
“When did you become lovers?” Ophelia frowned at Quintin. “I thought you met at the bogbear attack.”
“No, I audited her father’s estate in the days prior.”
“He’s been sleeping with her even longer,” Terin added. “Since I saw her leaving your house the first day of the bogbear hunt.”
Quintin shifted in his seat. Did Terin have to bring that up?
Ophelia narrowed her eyes. “You saw her in his rooms before the bogbear hunt?”
“Took her back to your house for a romp, did you?” Ulric grinned and shoved Quintin’s shoulder. “What did your mother say?”
“By the blessings of the merciful Marana, my mother didn’t see her.”
Ophelia rubbed her forehead. “But Terin did.”
Quintin hunched over his mug. “Much to my regret.”
Terin spread his hands wide. “I never would have guessed she was a Lady. As Madi said, she was dressed like a charmaid. I was half convinced she was a prostitute.”
“Wait, then who is the mystery woman?” Ulric’s brows drew together. “You hadn’t slept with her. Said you didn’t know her name.”
Quintin sighed and tugged his queue. “I certainly wasn’t going to tell you. We were trying to be discreet, though we’ve made a mess of it.”
“Because Madi arrested her?”
“And Terin walked in on you?”
Quintin shuddered. “The Bursar caught us kissing as well.”
“No!” Madi leaned forward. “When?”
Quintin waved away the question. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is he recognized her and sent me to audit her father’s estate out of spite.”
Ophelia bit her lip. “How awkward.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Quintin sighed and fiddled with his mug. “He tampered with my accounts and tried to blackmail me.”
“What?” Madi straightened in her seat. “Should I put him in the stocks?”
Terin raised his eyebrows. “It’s your day off.”
“I don’t care.”
“I showed him the error of his ways,” Quintin said shortly.
“You quit.” Ulric buried his fingers in his beard. “Will it stop his blackmail?”
“I also nearly choked him to death.”
Terin whistled. “Finally putting your air training to work?”
“If ever a man deserved it, the Bursar did.”
“What will you do now?”
“I need to report to the Troika Hall next week. I hope work can be found for me here in Trimble.” He closed his eyes and tried not to panic. “You’ll look after my mother, won’t you? If I have to leave?”
“We certainly will.” Ophelia covered his hand with hers. “I’ll pray it doesn’t come to that.”
“In the meantime, you can start your Allgoday celebration early.” Madi flagged down a barmaid and ordered another pitcher of wine. She raised her mug. “To Quintin, for standing up for what’s right, and damn the consequences.”
Quintin groaned as his friends joined her toast. The conversation moved back to Terin’s plans to find a lover, which was nearly as distressing as discussing his own love life.
Elkart’s hot breath sighed against his knee. You still not happy.
No. Would he ever be happy again, or would he forever be tormented by a fleeting moment of perfection?
Eventually Ophelia stood and motioned for Quintin to join her. “You’ve been sitting here stewing long enough. Walk me home and get a breath of air.”
He nodded, grateful to leave the boisterous talk of lovers behind.
Once they were well away from the tavern, Ophelia took his arm. “I have something for you.”
“Oh?”
She handed him a colorful braided cord. “I didn’t want to give it to you in front of the others. I wasn’t sure how you would react.”
He stroked the woolen strands, familiar knots catching at his fingertips. “These are Merdale’s colors.”
She nodded. “It is my great honor to formally invite you to celebrate Allgoday at Merdale.”
The cord dangling from his hand trembled. “Who gave this to you?”
“Mistress Isabel. She’s in charge of the festival, and so any invitation would have to come through her. She said if you want to come, you should wear the cord.”
“Does Lord Harold know?”
“Maybe, maybe not. Many of the guests were asking after you at the feast celebrating Lady Em’s triumph over the bogbear. Isabel was disappointed by your absence.”
His jaw clenched. “The Bursar forbade it.”
“He can’t stop you now.”
“I have no desire to be gawked at.”
“Not even for the chance to see Lady Em again?”
He stopped walking and closed his eyes. “I promised her father I would stay away from her.”
“Yet you sprang her from the stocks.” A thread of disapproval laced Ophelia’s voice.
His eyes popped open. “She was innocent. The jewels were her own.”
“She is the thief, isn’t she?”
His chin jerked in a short nod. “You must never tell anyone. After last night, she is putting her sneak work behind her.”
Ophelia’s eyes narrowed. “She wasn’t disguised in order to meet with you, was she?”
He sighed. “No.”
“However did you lie to Madi mind-to-mind?”
“By sticking as close to the truth as possible.”
“Lady Em is your lover? Or was it a ruse?”
“It has mostly been a ruse.”
“Not entirely?”
He co
uld feel her body closing around him again. Warm and wet and wonderful. His hand fisted around the cord. “No.”
“When I spoke with Lady Em, well, it didn’t all make sense to me at the time, but I think she has some very strong feelings about you.”
“You must be mistaken. She is very grateful for my aid, but . . .” His voice trailed off as he remembered exactly how grateful she’d been. “She thinks I’m kind.”
“Well, she would. You are honest, trustworthy, and compassionate.” Ophelia ticked off his qualities on her fingers. “Those things do add up to being kind.”
“And none of them lead to strong feelings. Kindness is not as attractive as Terin’s smile or Ulric’s strength, as you well know.”
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Ophelia said quietly. “All those years ago, when we were both so young and foolish.”
Quintin sucked in a breath. Did they have to revisit his embarrassing puppy love? “It doesn’t matter now.”
“It does if it is preventing you from seeing the truth.” Ophelia squeezed his arm. “There was no future for us, Quintin, and I knew it. I didn’t dare dally with you like I did with Terin, for fear I wouldn’t have the strength to leave you as I did him. It would have been a disaster.”
“What are you saying? You treated me like a little brother. You always have.”
“Yes. Because it was safest for all of us. And your friendship has been more precious than a few kisses ever could be. I made the right choice in not going down that path with you.” She shook his arm. “It does not mean you aren’t appealing. You heard what Terin said. Lady Em has no use for his charms. When she spoke of you . . . There is something there, Quintin, if you wish to pursue it.”
Quintin’s heart beat faster at the thought. Did he dare entertain such dangerous dreams? “She deserves more.”
“Do you love her?”
Quintin opened his mouth to deny it but could only gape like a fish through the pain in his chest.
“Then you must go to the festival. You cannot waste this opportunity.”
“I promised her father—”
“I only spoke five words to the man, and even I know her father is a buffoon.”
“What can I possibly say to her? I have nothing to offer her.”
“You’ve spent far too much of your life watching the rest of us fumble around searching for happiness and finding only heartbreak. You have a chance at love, Quintin. Don’t squander it.”
Chapter 41
The wooden railing slid under Em’s fingers, worn smooth by generations of grounds-keepers spiraling up the trunk of the kapok tree that dominated Em’s little patch of land. What a novel and freeing thing it was, to have land all her own.
“It’s a bit of a climb,” the new grounds-keeper said over her shoulder. “Though the view is worth it. You can see the whole half parcel from the house.”
It seemed a stretch to call the one room building a house. Perched in the branches at the top of the stairs, it was so tiny Em couldn’t see it during most of the climb. Yet the grounds-keeper had declared herself quite happy with it as an abode. In truth, Em envied her a little, for living in complete privacy high above the jungle floor.
By the time they reached the top of the stairs, the exertions of the climb had washed away her traces of envy. Breathing heavily, she leaned against the railing of the wraparound porch.
The grounds-keeper waved at the ground below. “Isn’t the view worth it?”
“It is spectacular,” Em agreed. The tops of bushes and low-lying tress rippled like a carpet below while the canopy trees arched overhead, enclosing them in layers of green. Parrots cawed from the branches, louder here amongst the trees. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. The beauty of the jungle was doubled by the freedom it represented.
If only Quintin could be here to share in her triumph. She touched a finger to her deed chain. In less than a week her life had completely changed, all thanks to him. He truly had been sent to her by the Goddess to aid her in her hour of need. But Fermena was the Goddess of Now. Her gifts didn’t last forever.
Em’s fingernails dug into the wood of the railing. She would never see him again. It was for the best. Really.
Now to just convince her heart.
The grounds-keeper pointed a callused finger toward the jungle floor. “I want to put the kitchen garden there.”
Em leaned over the rail, unable to distinguish one patch of land from any other. The plot was devoted almost entirely to cacao, which made the grounds monotonous.
“Those cacao plants aren’t flourishing. It’s too bright.” The grounds-keeper gestured at the tree rising behind them. “With a bit of trimming, we could get enough sunshine for melons.”
Golden light gleamed though the leaves of the kapok tree soaring above as Em tilted her head back, dizzied by the distance. Or perhaps it was all the new information making her mind spin. Queasy and trying not to show it, she refocused on the woman beside her. “Can you trim branches so high up?”
“I can, though I’d rather hire an expert if you think we can spare the beans.”
Em rubbed her forehead. She hated making these decisions without knowing how many beans the lands usually produced in a month. And how would removing plants affect the total? Growing their own vegetables seemed like the best plan in the long run, but she wasn’t a farmer. She longed to ride to Jardin and beg Hannah for advice or at least pour her woes into Quintin’s sympathetic ear. She swallowed hard.
How could someone she’d known for such a short period of time leave such a gaping hole in her life?
The grounds-keeper cleared her throat and drummed her fingers against the rail. “I’ve been thinking about getting a flock of numididae to fill an old coop behind the house. I’d enjoy the eggs myself, and it’d be a way to add productivity to the land without any drastic changes.”
“Eggs would be welcome at Aerynet as well.” Surely the beans she had pilfered from Violet’s room could pay for a few hens. “And maybe we can get one last harvest from the cacao plants before we make room for the garden. Could that pay for trimming the trees?”
“No sense letting beans go to waste.” The grounds-keeper nodded her approval. “Now come around this way to see the shadier side of the plot.”
Their feet clomped on the boards of the porch as they circled around the house. Em’s mind spun with all the possibilities in her future. With so much to learn about gardening, she anticipated seasons of working closely with the grounds-keeper, until she could provide for Aerynet herself. Then she might be able to move into the little tree house, become her own grounds-keeper, and cease to depend on her family at all.
Em shook off a pang of loneliness at the prospect. It would not be a luxurious life, but it would be an honorable one.
~ ~ ~
“Quintin, are you awake?”
“I’m resting, Mother,” Quintin called from his bedroll. He was lying on his back worrying the cord from Merdale. In the day since Ophelia had passed the braid to him, the wool had gotten smooth and shiny with handling.
His stitches itched like chiggers burrowing into his skin and every time he closed his eyes a breeze brought the scent of jasmine in from the garden to torment him with memories of Em. Better to lie in his room and pretend to sleep than to face his uncertain future.
“There is a woman here to see you,” his mother said from the other side of the curtain.
He sat up, his heart pounding with foolish hope. If it were Em, his mother would have said so, yet who else could it be?
Elkart raised his head and sniffed. Tax-woman, not Lady.
“I’ll be right there.” Quintin threw off his sheet and tucked the cord back into the pouch at his waist. The Tribute Office was closed for the day, so Sarah could not be seeking justice for further abuses by
the Bursar. After losing his temper in defense of Lady Em, Quintin didn’t expect to see any of the other auditors again.
He tightened his queue and shook the wrinkles out of his kaftan, before stepping through the curtain.
Auditor Sarah smiled at his appearance. “I have the most wonderful news.”
Bursar jumped in river? Elkart asked eagerly.
Quintin cuffed his waccat, though his face cracked in a smile. “Have you been promoted in my absence?”
“Not exactly.” Her gaze flicked over to his mother. “Can we go for a walk?”
His stomach turned at the thought of walking through the woods where he had kissed Em. Would memories of her ever stop haunting him? He sighed and gestured outside. “Perhaps we can tour the garden.”
At her nod, he offered his arm and escorted her through the rows of vegetables. He tried to focus on Sarah, though the jasmine blooms brought another woman to mind. “What is your news?”
Her fingers squeezed his biceps. “After you left, no one could stand the idea of working in those conditions any longer.”
Quintin scowled, bringing his other hand up to cover hers. “The Bursar didn’t threaten any of you, did he?”
“No, no, you thoroughly cowed him, but we knew it wouldn’t last, and he did start to bluster once he realized our plan.”
“What did you do?”
“We walked out, all of us.” She waved her free arm in enthusiasm. “The whole lot of us followed you down to the Troika Hall and turned in our resignations. We weren’t going to work under a cheating tyrant anymore, either.”
Quintin pressed a hand to his head. “All of you?”
She puffed out her chest and grinned. “All the auditors in Trimble.”
“But the audits, the accounts . . . it will be impossible to replace you all at once, and what will happen to the tariffs, the tributes? How will the guards get paid?” He grabbed her arms. “What about your own salary? You’ve told me time and again your family depends on the beans you send home.”
Taxing Courtship Page 30
