Foxglove (Belladonna, #2)(52)
Blythe wrapped her hands around her stomach, likely thinking the same thing. “It seems more happened while I was stuck in bed than I realized.”
“Or perhaps you’ve been far too concerned with yourself to consider what everyone else is doing.”
“Now, now, enough of that,” Signa said, alarmed. Whatever had happened between Charlotte and Blythe, there would be time to settle it later, in private. “We’re all friends here…” Her voice trailed off when she caught sight of a golden head of hair making its way through the throng. An angry heat festered in her stomach, thinking of her silver hair and their argument from when they last spoke. There was so much happening; so many thoughts to parse that she wasn’t sure how she could handle anything else. Fortunately, Fate turned at the last moment, headed not toward her but to Everett.
“I swear I can’t keep pace with you these days,” Blythe huffed under her breath. “First you’re dreaming of a duke, and now you lose your thoughts in the presence of a prince.”
“You’ve been dreaming of Everett?” There was tension in Charlotte’s jaw, though Signa couldn’t find it in her to answer. Fate’s presence was all-consuming. Though they were here to bolster Elijah’s name and make a good impression on the guests, Signa very much doubted anyone would remember that she and the Hawthorne family had attended when there was someone far more interesting to think about.
“I can’t believe he’s visiting all the way from Verena.” Signa turned to see that the voice came from a small group of ladies she recognized from other social events this season. Diana Blackwater was among them, flapping her fan so fiercely that her white bonnet bobbed upon her small head. “It’s such a lovely place, right on the water. My father took me there for a visit when I was young. The prince and I became quite close.”
One of the younger girls gasped. “Do you think he came all this way for you?”
Diana, bless her, was positively preening. How silly it was to watch her and the entire town play into Fate’s trap.
“Do tell us about him,” one girl said with prying hopefulness. “Is he charming?”
“He is quite the gentleman,” Diana said with a practiced swoon. It seemed everyone was an actor, these days. “He’s well-mannered and incredibly attentive. If you thought Wisteria Gardens was beautiful, you would perish upon seeing his family’s royal palace.”
Ha. Well-mannered, indeed.
“I must admit that I was pleased to see Aris—forgive me, I do mean Prince Dryden—visiting the year of my debut,” Diana continued. “I’ve always had such a fondness for Verena, and always imagined myself ending up there one day.”
She wasn’t worth it. She wasn’t. And yet Signa’s hands twitched with annoyance. Diana and her lies didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things, but there was something about her that irked Signa so much that she spun to face the girl.
“It must be fate,” Signa mused, smile so wide that her eyes squinted halfway shut.
Diana returned a thin smile, fanning herself with a touch more aggression. “I daresay you’re right, Miss Farrow.”
“I couldn’t agree more. Fate is a very powerful thing.” It was the alleged prince himself who spoke as he and Everett approached. Diana and the rest of the ladies fell silent as he and the freshly minted duke dipped their heads in greeting. Fate’s eyes, however, lifted to watch Signa from beneath long lashes, and that strange heat in her belly was back.
“Prince Aris,” she said with as much revulsion as publicly acceptable. “You’re still in town?”
“Still? Did you intend on leaving?” It was Everett who asked, setting a hand on Fate’s shoulder as though they were good friends. Signa couldn’t help but fixate on that touch, glaring, for why was it that Fate could manage to not just be seen but also touched, when Death couldn’t manage either? “I expected you’d be here through the season.”
“I will be,” Fate said coolly enough to prickle Signa’s skin. “Miss Farrow must have misunderstood. I have every intention of remaining here until she agrees to accept my proposal.”
The words were so casual that everyone within hearing distance stilled, looking at one another to ensure they’d heard the same thing. Signa’s cheeks burned.
“Surely, you mean until someone accepts your proposal.” She tried to smile. To make light of his comment.
Fortunately, Fate bowed his head and obliged her with a small, amused smirk. “Of course, Miss Farrow. Do forgive me for misspeaking.”
Oh, how Signa wished that she could summon her shadows and claim Fate where he stood. She hated that he sounded so charming, and that there was a dimple in his cheek that made him look entirely too friendly. When she decided she could no longer bear to entertain him, Signa diverted her attention onto Everett.
“Congratulations, Lord Wakefield,” she said at last, hoping to create some diversion from whatever game Fate was playing.
“Yes, congratulations.” Charlotte took a squeaky breath when Everett approached. “You look very respectable in that sash. Your father would be proud.”
Everett looked so bashful as he adjusted his waistcoat that Signa sought Blythe’s eyes to share a look. Her cousin, however, was fixated on the ground.