To Best the Boys(73)

“Well, in my defense—”

They keep talking but I’m staring at the corner that Ms. Danford disappeared around. I excuse myself and follow her.

She’s slipped down the hall toward the partially open parlor door. She stands there a full minute with her back to me as several male voices trickle out from within the room, and I can’t tell if she’s listening or trying to decide to enter. If Ms. Danford is aware I’m there, she doesn’t give any indication.

A second later she stiffens. “Miss Tellur, you’re not with the other guests.”

I stare.

My mouth goes dry as she turns and peers at me with those lavender eyes above wrinkled cheeks and a pretty blue suit with larger-than-normal buttons. And a voice that sounds very much like the chiming of a clock.

“Did you need something, dear? Or are you just here to spy?”

I shake my head. “I don’t understand. You’re . . .”

Her grin grows wider and she takes a step closer to study me from head to foot before her gaze flashes back to mine. “I’d expect you of all people who’ve entered my contest to know things aren’t always as they appear, Rhen Tellur from the Port.” She scrunches her lips and leans back to continue assessing me, then discreetly pulls an empty wooden pipe from her pocket. She lifts it and glances at it, then in one swift movement waves it across the front of herself.

As she does so, her appearance changes into that of the elderly, silver-tuft-haired Mr. Kellen, with a purple waistcoat and an empty wooden pipe.

Before I’ve had time to blink, she waves the pipe again, like a magician’s wand, and shifts back into the female version of whatever she is.

I shut my eyes. Open them. She’s still there. I squint. “Who are you?”

She chuckles, and it’s the same pleasant sound I heard the other night in the hall outside my uncle’s study. “A woman must find her own way, yes? As the only living heir in a long line of Holm men, I couldn’t just let the name die with my father. So—” She shrugs. “While I wasn’t afforded the education one traditionally needs for running business affairs, he ensured I was trained in . . .” She gives a slight smile and taps her pipe against her hand. “Other things. And now?” Her mouth eases into a sad smile. “If I couldn’t attend a school, at least I can influence those who do.”

The next moment she gives a delighted clap and bestows me with a smile. “Good evening, Rhen. And congratulations again on your win. I expect you’ll do good things for the world of men.” She starts back to the parlor.

“But Vincent had the key,” I say quickly.

She slows and tilts her head. “He had a key, yes, Miss Tellur. I never said whether the actual key was physical or a characteristic. I’d expect someone of your intellectual prowess to have latched onto that by now.”

With that, she waves the pipe over herself once more and takes on a completely new appearance—that of a balding middle-aged man in suit and tie—and, giving me a nod, strides through the door to join the men.

And I am left staring at an empty space.

I frown and turn to—to do what? I don’t know, but the moment I slip back around the corner toward the party, a voice says, “I hear short hair on females could become all the rage.”

Lute.

I don’t know whether to melt or laugh or cry. I want to ask where he’s been, where we are on things, but his eyes find mine, and those questions are for later as I glance at his clothing and offer a smirk. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in nonfishing suit pants before. “You look nice.”

He swags those dimples at me and sweeps a chunk of black hair from his face. “I was just going to say the same about you.” His eyes scan my dress Da bought for me, even though it cost about every penny we’ve ever saved and I insisted he not. “Good choice.” He leans in and lowers his voice as he tips his gaze to encompass the room we’ve just walked into, even as his tone says he’d rather be anywhere right now than an Upper party. “How you doing with all this?”

I crinkle my face.

He laughs. “Thank Caldon for good food then. And your aunt and uncle seem quite proud.” His expression turns serious. “So how do you think the test went?”

“To be honest? I’ve no idea.” I swallow. “But Vincent . . .”

“My mum told me this evening as soon as I got in.” Lute’s gaze grips mine, and probes deeper—as if trying to read something or maybe tell me something, I’m not sure. Finally, his voice falters, as if laced with exhaustion. “With the weather coming in, my father’s men and I had to do a fishing trip. Left straight after I came around from the berry poison, and I only just got in.” His hand slips from his hair down to claim my palm, which he squeezes and waits for me to respond.

But I don’t because if I do I’ll probably curl into him right here. Forget the party, forget the people. This is what I want.

He must read my thoughts because he nods and pulls me into him, and holds me against his chest the same way I’ve held Mum for the last few months. I tremble and inhale his salty scent, and even with the promise that the new treatment Da’s made Mum, or the medicine I’ve been working on, might be developed in time to save her, I’m surprised by the wave of feelings that comes. I sag against him as the weight of Vincent and the test and Mum about bowl me over. Until at some point I realize he’s not just holding up my body—I think maybe he’s holding my heart in place as well.