Two Dark Reigns (Three Dark Crowns #3)(31)

“Wasn’t half the reason you were invited to this party so that people could get a look at us? Christine would have invited Billy, but you and Jane were included to accompany the foreign wards.”

“What is your point, Miss Arsinoe?”

“My point is I’m doing you a favor dressing like this.” She pulls on her lapels, smooths her hair back away from her facial scars. “Dressed like this, I’m more of an attraction.”

Footmen help them from their carriage and they are shown through the front door into an enormous, high-ceilinged foyer. Some relation of the governor—one of his younger daughters, his niece, perhaps—steps forward to receive them.

Mrs. Chatworth inclines her head.

“May I present Miss Mirabella Rolanth,” she says, “and her sister Miss Arsinoe.”

At the introduction, the girl’s eyes open wide. “We have heard much! How wonderful to meet you, finally.”

Arsinoe and Mirabella nod and curtsy slightly, and the girl sweeps them through the house.

“I don’t know why we had to be Mirabella and Arsinoe Rolanth,” Arsinoe whispers as they follow.

“We could not very well be Mirabella and Arsinoe Wolf Spring,” Mirabella whispers back.

The governor’s girl leaves them at the rear of the house, where a set of wide-open doors leads to the party. Arsinoe whistles again. The sprawling rear lawn boasts a small fountain and a well-kept hedge maze. Tables have been set and adorned with summer flowers, and there is even a stone dance floor and a small band of musicians. On the island, such a celebration would be reserved for a queen or a high festival.

“Some birthday,” Arsinoe says, watching guests as they mill about laughing or clump together with glasses of drink in their hands. Many ladies have opted for wide-brimmed hats instead of parasols.

“Do not be sour,” chides Mirabella. “Our own birthdays were high-festival affairs as well.”

“We were queens.” She sighs. “What I wouldn’t give for a mug of ale like we used to have at the Lion’s Head.”

“Unlikely to find any of that here,” Billy says, and takes her by the arm. “Tea, certainly. Or champagne.”

“Anything to put in front of my face. We may be foreign curiosities, but I hope they don’t mean for us to meet everyone at this party.”

“Billy! Over here, Billy!”

They turn. Christine Hollen stands in the center of a group of young women.

Arsinoe grimaces.

“Oh, good, it’s Miss Christine.”

“Go,” Mrs. Chatworth says, and prods them not too gently.

Billy clears his throat. “I suppose we’ll have to.” He leads the way, and Arsinoe turns to Mirabella to mouth the word help.

“She will not get within an arm’s length,” Mirabella says, and snakes her arm through Billy’s. “Do the same on his other side.”

Arsinoe does, though it feels awkward. She cannot help noticing that Mirabella’s stride has gotten markedly slinkier. And that with the both of them pressed tight against him, Billy is grinning like an idiot.

“Put on your best smile,” Mirabella says cheerily through her teeth.

“Just like a horse’s,” Arsinoe says cheerily through hers.

When they reach her, Christine offers Billy her hand to be kissed, but with both of his arms occupied, her fingers linger idly in the air before fluttering back down to her side. Mirabella glances at Arsinoe and lifts her chin in triumph.

“I am so glad that you and the Misses Rolanth could come.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” says Billy. “It’s a lovely party.”

Christine’s smile is not as radiant as usual. She cannot stop looking at the way Mirabella leans against Billy, and with Mirabella there, the poor girl seems to have shrunk three sizes. Arsinoe feels sorry for her and tries to catch her eye to smile for real, but a boy approaches to extend his hand to Mirabella, and Christine’s expression brightens.

“Miss Rolanth,” he says. “Will you dance?”

“Oh yes, you must!” Christine exclaims before Mirabella can respond. “The band my father chose is absolutely delightful.”

Mirabella looks between the boy and Arsinoe.

“Please,” Christine nudges. “Billy cannot have thought he could keep you all to himself!”

Mirabella slides her arm free and takes the boy’s hand. “I will be right back.” But she will not be. The boys are already forming a queue beside the stone dance floor.

Arsinoe wonders how well she will fare. The music on the mainland is so different from the music of home. There are no somber strings and woodwinds like in Rolanth, no cheerful fiddle like Ellis and Luke played in Wolf Spring. This stuff is played mostly on horns, by musicians wearing shirts striped like pulled taffy.

Once Mirabella is gone, Christine wastes no time. She reaches for Billy’s empty arm and tugs him to her side, sliding her gaze over Arsinoe’s vest and trousers. Then she taps him on the shoulder.

“There is someone here I want you to meet.” She cranes her neck, a perfectly smooth and elegant neck, Arsinoe notes, and points to a young boy racing across the lawn. “There he is! My little cousin.” They laugh as the child tumbles and pops back up in his tiny, handsome suit. “He is just the sort of boy that I will have someday. A fine son, for a father to be proud of. Isn’t he darling?”