“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.
“Thank you, Miss Killinger,” he said. “That’s truly appreciated.”
Charlotte shyly glanced away as she pushed a fallen curl from her shoulder. It seemed they might mill about each other all day if someone didn’t do something to rouse them from their stupor. And though Signa opened her mouth to relieve her friend, Fate beat her to it.
“The day is far too perfect for us to continue standing around chatting.” He tipped his head toward the garden. “How would you all fancy a game of croquet?”
TWENTY
THE PALACE GARDEN WAS THE OPPOSITE OF WISTERIA’S IN EVERY way, understated in its beauty with elegant rosebushes and shady oaks that lined trim pathways. Servants passed by with trays of dainty sandwiches and savories, which guests ate as they gossiped together in the shade. As she and Blythe made the trek across the lawn, Signa found herself wishing that she could be one of those guests, soaking in the garden’s beauty while stuffing her face with food.
Instead, she found herself continually looking at Everett, examining the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he greeted others. Might he have had a motive to kill his father? Could his face be that of a killer?
Charlotte was at his side, speaking to him in low and happy tones. Signa watched them all the while, trying purposely to keep her focus from Fate. Blythe must have been doing the same, for she whistled quietly under her breath. “Perhaps it’s time to turn your attention toward being a princess, after all. They seem to be forming quite the pair.” Blythe spoke as if testing Signa’s feelings about the matter.
“And yet neither one has spoken a word about an attachment,” Signa replied, and nudged Blythe toward where Everett was bowing to more ladies and eager mothers that approached as Charlotte watched, her expression more vacant with each new face.
It felt like they were stopped every few feet as Fate led the way across a seemingly endless lawn of the most perfect grass—truly, not a single blade was browning, and all seemed cut to precisely the same length. When Fate caught Signa stealing a look at him, he offered his arm with a gloating puff of his chest. Blythe practically shoved her forward, and Signa shot her a withering glare before she begrudgingly took Fate’s arm and allowed him to pull her ahead.
“What do you say to a game, Miss Farrow?” he asked. Though the question was teasing, it was easy to see the vulnerability he was masking.
“I would say no,” she answered honestly, “but do I have a choice?”
Fate took the jab in stride. “Would your answer change if I said we can consider it part of our courting?”
She nearly missed a step. Before so many eyes, the last thing she wanted was to be seen courted by Fate, nor did she wish to fan the flames of his interest when he refused to promise he would not harm Death. But even if she refused, she doubted Fate would leave. Not to mention that Signa would give just about anything to hear Death’s voice again.