Page 12 of The Consort's Curse
“You’re going to look awful, my lord. Oh, gods, I beg your pardon,” Aldrich almost moaned, running a hand over his face. “I shouldn’t have said that. You could never really look awful. But I’m responsible for your upkeep, my lord, whether or not I’m allowed to send for a tailor. I did try,” he said anxiously.
I nodded at him, acknowledging his efforts. He’d not only tried to get me something to wear, but he’d tried to shelter me from the mortifying details—except that the truth couldn’t really be softened. He’d gone to the steward and asked for funds for the tailor, and had been told that Lord Stefan would give orders for that when he deemed it appropriate.
Aldrich didn’t know enough about my marriage to read between the lines, but I did.If you want the benefits of your new position, then you’ll make up your mind to fulfill your side of the bargain.I’d get new clothes and anything else I wanted to spend money on once I’d made the marriage legal and proven I could stay out of trouble. Not before. And if that left me looking awful at dinner, then Lord Stefan would surely consider that my problem.
Aldrich flipped through the hanging garments again and then threw up his hands in despair. “If you appear at Lady Estella’s table in any of this—! You’d be better off going naked, my lord!”
Naked.
Nowtherewas an idea. That prick I’d married had demanded that I play the simpering, well-fucked whore, had he not? I could stroll into dinner completely nude.
And simper, of course. Before the gods and the Lord Chancellor and his lady and all the servants.
One of the other younger residents of the abbey had whispered to me, on one long afternoon in the garden, all aboutwhat a man looked like after sex. I could put rouge on my cheeks and lips and slick my thighs with bath oil.
Aldrich stared at me as I wheezed, coughed, and collapsed in helpless giggles against the side of the wardrobe, spilling tea all down my wrist.
“My lord?” he asked tentatively.
“Sorry,” I gasped, setting the cup down and trying to dry myself off. “Sorry. I only—never mind.” I blinked the tears from my lashes and then…oh.
Oh.
This brilliant idea had to be an apology gift from one of the gods who’d been sporting with me so capriciously of late, because I’d never shown any signs of unusual genius. And this qualified as such.
Not nude, but…could I get away with it? Who said a whore couldn’t dress like a novitiate—especially if he was one? And besides, if Lord Ettori wanted to blame me for his son’s lack of attention to clothing me properly, he would, and the cassock wouldn’t be much worse than the horrid wedding garments. As long as I made a point of acting well-fucked, not that I knew what that meant, but anyway, I’d do my best, my cassock wouldn’t be a threat to my well-being or my sister’s. It’d be nothing more than an embarrassment to Lord Stefan, who couldn’t possibly blame me in turn when he’d forbidden me from acquiring anything better.
…And who also wouldn’t see me in time to make me change my clothes, because he wouldn’t be here to hand me into the carriage; we’d be picking him up on the way, Aldrich had informed me. He couldn’t even be bothered to put down his bottle or his actual whore for the quarter of an hour it’d take to get himself home to escort me properly.
That settled it.
“The better of my two cassocks, please, Aldrich,” I said, and choked on another burst of hysteria. Who would be angrier? My husband, or my father-in-law? Given a little luck, if I behaved in such a way as to satisfy the appearance of having had Lord Stefan in my bed, they’d each blame the other for my giving them precisely what they’d asked for.
Aldrich hesitantly obeyed me, pulling the better-mended of my two brown sacks out of the wardrobe with a shudder.
Since I already stood there in only my shirt and drawers, it took only an instant to whip the cassock over them and be fully dressed. I didn’t need a mirror; I’d spent years clothed like this. Besides, I had Aldrich’s gaping mouth and horrified eyes to tell me anything I could’ve learned from my reflection.
“Oh, my lord,” Aldrich murmured, his face gone pale under his pockmark scars. “I’ll lose my position over this.”
That was the only thing he could’ve said to shake my determination, but it still wasn’t enough.
Lord Stefan and his father hadearnedthis.
“I’ll do my best to make sure no one thinks this is your fault,” I said, in my most convincingly lordly tone. Showing more confidence in me than I could bring myself to feel in myself, he nodded and set out my shoes without another protest.
Leaving my rooms gave me a shiver of anticipation despite my destination. On the island I’d been accustomed to being outside for a great portion of every day, even in the winter. My bedroom and sitting room here opened onto a balcony set with a few potted plants and a chair, so at least I hadn’t suffocated. But I’d gone stir-crazy.
The great clock in the hall began to chime seven o’clock as I made my way down the three flights of stairs—alone, damn my husband all the way to his eyeballs.
What would it be like to truly be the master of a house like this, laughing and rich and carefree, dressed in silk andvelvet and tripping my way downstairs to take the arm of a very different man, one who loved me, whose eyes lit up as I smiled into them?
If Lord Stefan ever deigned to gaze at someone like that, he’d be devastating.
My hand clenched on the polished baluster, and I almost jerked myself to a stop. No. I forced my body to keep moving. Lord Stefan was an utter bastard. I might never have the chance to escape him and find love, but I’d have no chance at any life at all if I wasted my time mooning over my unhappiness.
I had to focus on the tasks in front of me. I had a Lord Chancellor to deceive, a handsome, horrible husband to manipulate, and a sister to save from disgrace and death. In the slightly longer term, I’d need to find a way to contact my mother without the Lord Chancellor accusing me of conspiracy (as I had no doubt at all he’d manage to find out if I wrote to her openly), and discover more about the family I’d married into. At court, information could be wielded like a weapon, and I needed something more than my ability to chant verb conjugations in three ancient languages—or to wear ugly, inappropriate clothing out of spite.
As the last chime of the clock echoed through the marble and gilt of the hall, I stepped past the footman holding the front door. For a moment, I paused on the steps and tipped my head up toward the sky. No stars yet adorned the dome of royal blue fading down into an apricot sunset, but a sliver of moon floated off in the distance, seeming to hang from the tip of a temple tower: Dromos’s manifestation, gleaming through the remnants of Ennolu’s dominance over the sky. I sucked in a deep breath. More of a smell of horse manure than I’d been used to on my island, and a hint of garbage and offal even in this genteel neighborhood, but mostly the scents of damp stone and salt sea,the flowering trees across the street and the roasting meat of someone’s dinner further along the square.
