I ring the bell at the address Aubrey gave me, which is the largest house I’ve ever seen in Paravel. It has white columns and huge front windows, a fountain in the front garden and a manicured lawn bordered by hedges and flowerbeds. The door is opened by a man in livery, and I’m ushered into the hall.
Aubrey comes bounding down the stairs, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. “Wraye! I can call you just Wraye, can’t I? Let’s dispense with all that lady nonsense.”
I smile in relief. “Oh, yes, please.”
Aubrey throws her arms around me in a hug, and I can’t help but like her even more than I did last night. She takes me upstairs to her room, which is pretty and pink-and-white and so orderly that not even an earring on the dressing table is out of place. I wonder if she’d still be smiling at me if she saw where I’m living.
She tells me about her horse, Cinnamon, and opens the window onto the garden. We both lean out into the fresh air, and she points to a cluster of buildings just out of view. “I’m keeping her in an outbuilding, next to the garage, but I want to find a proper riding stable in town for her. Daddy doesn’t want me galloping all over the lawns.”
Aubrey turns and sits on the windowsill and smiles at me. “Do you ride?”
I step back, my stomach plummeting through the floor. There’s a buzzing in my ears. “I, uh…”
Suddenly, Aubrey gasps. I look up into her large, sympathetic eyes.
“I’m so sorry, I’ve been thoughtless. Daddy told me how it’s been here in Paravel for those who couldn’t flee. You’ve lived a nightmare, and I’m talking about horses and lawns.”
My palms start to sweat because, any moment now, she’s going to discover that I shouldn’t be here.
“Was it truly awful for you?” Aubrey asks tentatively.
I stare at the floor, desperately wondering what is safe to say. After a moment, I decide on the truth. “I grew up in the slums. The other children hated me because Mama wouldn’t let anyone forget that the Rugovas were one of the First Families. I left school at sixteen, and I worked as a chambermaid. I’ve never ridden a horse.”
I look up defiantly, because if Lady Aubrey is looking at me in disgust, then I want to glare back. Just because people have treated me like dirt in the past, doesn’t mean I have to go on letting them.
Aubrey gazes at me sympathetically. “Don’t worry, we’re all in this together. The Court is a strange and scary place for us of the new generation. I felt like an imposter last night.”
“I feel like an imposter all the time.” I shut my mouth quickly, wondering if I’ve said too much. Mama told me that no one can know that we haven’t officially been welcomed back to Court or had our home restored. She’s relying on her old connections and the nation being in a state of upheaval to allow us to bluff our way into wealth again.
My eyes snag on the dress that’s hanging in a clear plastic sleeve on the wardrobe. It’s Aubrey’s ball gown from last night. Beautiful things can’t bring you happiness, but I still bite my lip enviously.
Aubrey notices me looking. “Would you like to try it on? You could see if the style suits you and then have a similar one made.” She pulls it down and pushes it into my hands. “We’re about the same size. You could even borrow it if you like. I don’t mind.”
I gaze at the silk and glistening jewels through the plastic sleeve. “I couldn’t. It’s far too beautiful. I’d be terrified of ruining it.”
“If you drop cake on it, I can just get it dry cleaned. Try it on, and I’ll be back in a minute with something to eat. Then I want your opinion on everyone we saw last night at the ball!”
Her voice floats off down the hall, as she hurries out. I look again at the gown. It can’t hurt to try it on. Maybe Mama’s plan will be successful, and I’ll own ones like this one day, and I’ll be able to return the favor.
I lay the dress down on Aubrey’s bed and strip down to my underwear. I take my bra, off, too, as the gown is off-the-shoulder. When I unzip the plastic sleeve and touch the dress, it’s just as delicate as I imagined and as light as air. I hold it up reverently before me.
There’s a movement in the doorway, and I look around, expecting to see Aubrey.
But it’s not Aubrey. It’s a man.
A tall, intense man with eyes like shards of green and tawny glass. There are crinkles by his eyes, and they add character and gravity to his demeanor. He’s in his shirtsleeves and his thick silver hair is rumpled, as though he’s been pushing a frustrated hand through it. His short beard is silver, too, and his full mouth expresses disapproval. I feel like that’s more about what’s going on in his mind than about me. His eyes slide from my face to my breasts, and then down to my waist and hips and the tiny white briefs I’m wearing.