Gerard swallowed, then patted his napkin at the corner of his thin lips. “Do you know what Euphorbias signify?”
“I didn’t know flowers meant much of anything beyond beauty,” I admitted, trying a second bite.
Gerard let out a loud, boisterous laugh and even Dauphine tittered, as though my ignorance had been a well-timed joke. Marguerite continued to eye me with disdain, pushing the wilted blossoms about the bowl without ever tasting them.
Alexander shifted in his chair, leaning in close over the arm, giving the illusion of a private conversation. “There’s an entire language to flowers.”
“A language?” I repeated, instantly intrigued.
“If you knew their meanings, we could have an entire conversation between us without ever having to say a word. Like”—he pointed toward the bouquet at the center of the table—“the bright white flowers near the top? Those are called starworts. They’re meant to welcome a stranger.”
Dauphine nodded. “I had one of the gardeners add them in once I knew you’d be joining us tonight.”
Her thoughtfulness touched me. “And those purple flowers?”
“Those are heliotropes,” Gerard explained. “I picked them myself this morning, for Dauphine.” He gave her a wink.
“They’re meant to show devotion,” Alexander said. He sat back in his chair, studying me with thoughtful eyes. “If I were to pick out a flower for you tonight, I think I would choose…a gardenia.”
“Oh, Alexander,” Dauphine murmured, her voice happy and light.
“Good boy,” Gerard said approvingly.
Marguerite swiped her napkin under her nose with a sniff.
“What…what does that mean?” I glanced about the table.
The corner of Alexander’s lips rose with merriment. “You’ll have to look it up and see.”
The warmth in his tone sent a strange flutter through my chest. It felt almost as if…Was he flirting with me? It felt like he could be, but so openly? In front of his family? Perhaps there were more differences between the People of the Petals and the People of the Salt than I would have guessed.
“I…” I didn’t know the proper way to respond, acutely aware of the many sets of eyes upon me. “I certainly will. I’d love to learn more.” An idea struck me. “It would be a lovely addition to your portrait. Have you picked out what your ducal flower will be?”
In a flash, his eyes darted from me to his father and back to his lap. “Alyssum, I think.”
I brightened, remembering them on the grounds of Highmoor, ringed around the tall alders bordering the gardens. “The little white and pink flowers? I love those. They always smell so sweet in the summer months.”
The table fell still and I wondered if I’d guessed the wrong flower.
“What…what do they signify?”
Dauphine studied her soup, refusing to look up.
After a beat, Alexander cleared his throat. “？‘A worth beyond beauty.’？”
“A wholly ridiculous choice for a Laurent,” Gerard muttered, casting his spoon into the soup with a clatter.
“Well, that’s the thing about a duke’s legacy, isn’t it, Father?” Alexander said carefully. “He gets to choose his own.”
The tips of Gerard’s ears turned a dark red as he threw back a long swig of wine, souring the room with the uncomfortable weight of his sudden anger.
“What does Euphorbia mean?” I whispered to Alex as I ran my finger over the cursed soup spoon. I wish I’d never even mentioned those little spangled flowers.
He patted the corner of his mouth with his napkin, hiding his response. “Tenacity.”
“Next course,” Gerard barked out for the footmen.
The soup was cleared away before any of us could finish it.
* * *
“You’re going the wrong way.”
Dinner was blessedly over—Pontus, how many courses could one family pack away?—and I’d scurried from it as quickly as I could, with promises to join Dauphine for breakfast before I began my work in the morning.
When I turned to see who spoke, Alexander was right at my heels. “That hall leads out to the back of the house.”
I studied the corridor before me. It seemed to open up into a tall, starlit room.
“That’s the foyer…isn’t it?”
“Not at all,” Alexander laughed.
“I was sure it was—”
“It’s all the plants,” he said, wheeling past me. “They give off a false sense of familiarity. You thought you left by the same door we entered in, didn’t you?”
I nodded, certain I had.
He shook his head. “You went out its mate. Both have ferns next to them. It’s an easy mistake. Come on, I’ll show you.”
“Its mate?” I echoed.
“The house has always had a rather…unusual layout, but after my accident, Father added on the back wing. See?”
We entered a room identical to the foyer I’d thought I’d been heading toward, but instead of the graceful dueling staircases, a metal column rose up to the second story.
“The back of the house is a mirror image to the front, only more accessible for me. When the sun is out, it’s easier to feel which side you’re on but in the dark, with you so new here…The lift,” Alexander explained, catching my stare. “Want to try it?”
“I…” Though it was covered in beautiful filigreed ironwork, it gave me pause. It looked like the cage of some horrible beast. “I’ve never been in one before. What does it do?”
“Well, as the name suggests, it lifts off the ground, taking me with it. Sometimes it lifts me this way, sometimes that.” He pantomimed wild swings to either end of the room.
I blanched, my stomach queasy at the thought. “It does?”
His eyes crinkled into little half-moons. “Of course not. It’s on a track. See?” He pointed to the well-oiled line of metal bolted to the wall. “It’s perfectly safe. I use it every day.” He pushed himself up a ramp and foisted back the accordion-style doors. “Ladies first.”
I stepped past him, entering the small space. “Will there be room enough for us both?”
He rolled in, his knees bumping against the swell of my skirt. “Just barely.” An unexpected trace of pink colored his cheeks and I was surprised how endearing I found it. “Can you pull the door closed? It won’t start until that latch is in place.”
That, at least, was a bit of comfort.
He pulled a lever toward him and a giant mechanical hum rose up around us.
“It’s just the steam,” he assured me. “We pull the lever to activate the steam, then that button to start it up.”
“Where does it come from?”
“The lake. Pipes bring in the water to be heated beneath the house. Sometimes it feels as though the whole manor is groaning.”
I imagined the house crying out in torment and swallowed deeply.
“Are you scared? Really?”
I shook my head, wanting to be brave. I kept my eyes trained on the floor of the cage. That looked reassuringly solid and unmovable. Maybe if I could trick myself into thinking we weren’t—