The Glittering Court (The Glittering Court, #1)(68)

“Ah,” I said neutrally. “That must have been very difficult.” I remembered suggesting a union with the nouveau riche to Grandmama on the day I’d met Lionel, ages ago. If she’d been more open to it, both of our lives would be very, very different now. “It was,” she admitted. “But I’ve done my best to bring what I could of that noble lifestyle here. Just because many here in the colonies have humble roots, just because our towns are still rough-and-tumble . . . well, it doesn’t mean we can’t aspire to the great legacy of our mother country. That sort of transformation is really what your Glittering Court is about, isn’t it?”

“I suppose so. Ced—Mister Cedric Thorn and his father call us the ‘new nobility.’”

“Quaint.” Her eyes fell upon Warren, who was chatting with Mira. She looked far more animated than I’d seen her around any other suitors, but Warren appeared distracted and kept glancing at us. Viola turned back to me. “I’m proud of what I’ve established here, and even though my husband is a good man, well . . . I can’t forget the great dignity of those ancient bloodlines of Osfrid. I’m glad I was able to pass on some of my exalted heritage to my son, even if my old title means little here. And I’d like to see my grandchildren carry on a similar legacy. That, of course, is where you come in, my dear.”

She looked at me expectantly, but I was thrown into complete confusion. “I beg your pardon?”

“My grandchildren, like my son, will become leaders in this land. Many—my husband included—will tell you hard work and character earn that position. And that is part of it. But blood is critical. And when you and Warren wed, I can rest easy that two noble bloodlines will be passed down to my descendants.”

A strange, chilled feeling began to spread through me. “I . . . I don’t know what you mean, Mistress Doyle.”

“I told you—you must call me Viola. No need for titles among us, not even a countess’s.”

The room threatened to close in on me, and I thought I might faint. Sternly, I steadied myself, taking a deep breath as I worked to reveal nothing on my face. I hadn’t come this far to let it all fall apart.

“I’m sorry—you must forgive me. I’m just not following this conversation.”

“You’re very good,” she said. “You give nothing away. No doubt you’ve had to become good in this past year in order to achieve what you have. I might have doubted myself, had I not so vividly remembered seeing young Lady Witmore, Countess of Rothford, at a party five years ago. Your parents had just passed, and Lady Alice Witmore was already perfectly aware her family’s fortunes were fading and that she’d have to secure a good marriage for you. You were too young at the time, but she was already at work. I recall thinking you were so lovely and that she’d have no difficulty in arranging things.” Viola paused meaningfully. “But when I saw you on the docks at your arrival, I realized I must have been wrong. You look very much like you did five years ago—more mature, of course. Very much a woman. Maybe even more beautiful.”

“Mistress Doyle,” I said stiffly, refusing to use her first name. “You have made some sort of error.”

She beckoned a servant to replace her champagne glass. “Or, is it possible you had a good match but didn’t want the man? I can certainly understand that.” Her eyes lingered briefly on the governor. “Whatever has led you here, I am glad. It was very adventurous of you, very risky, but as you can see, everything happens for a reason.”

I stared off at the room, buzzing with guests I barely took note of. I hadn’t expected this. I had nothing prepared. At last, conceding, I asked, “Does Warren know?”

“Of course. It’s why he’s so eager. Like me, he’d long dreamed of a worthy match. We’d assumed the Glittering Court, with its cheap imitations, was the best we could manage. I’ve met those girls in the past, you know. They do an admirable job, but their common roots often show. When I made inquiries about you that first week—and of course I did, after I recognized you—I learned how exemplary you were. Perfect in every exam they gave you, as though you’d been born to this.”

I dragged my gaze from the room and met her squarely in the eye. “Mistress Doyle, what is it you want from me?”

“You already know. I want you to marry my son. I want you both to be happy and have a long, prosperous life together governing Hadisen.” She paused again in that dramatic way of hers. “Even you can’t find fault with this. You obviously came here in search of an advantageous marriage. Can you honestly tell me there’s a better one available? One with such a future and a man who’s smitten with you—he is, you know, regardless of your title. And securing a marriage early would certainly benefit you. As an unwed woman—still legally bound to your grandmother—you could very well be taken back to Osfrid by some enterprising bounty hunter. Marriage binds you to your husband. It frees you.”

“Are you threatening me?” I asked.

“Lady Witmore,” she said softly, “I’m simply laying out the facts for you.”

Dinner was called, and I numbly took my place at the table. Viola, thankfully, was at the other end, but Warren sat right next to me, as happy as ever to see me. He chatted on about the great dreams he had for his colony and how he hoped to implement them. I nodded along, smiling appropriately as my own thoughts spun wildly.