Feeling a little awkward, Fiona gingerly took the sandwich while reflecting on recent events. Don’t get caught up in something strange, huh?
Fiona’s connection to the incident with the warring factions in parliament was not public knowledge. The official report had mentioned a “person connected with a gallery,” but only a small handful of people knew that the person in question was Fiona. This was one of the reasons her commendation ceremony had been conducted in private. Olga, of course, was not privy to the details of the counterfeit art scandal, nor her fake romance with Giles, but Fiona could not deny that both of these things could be called strange.
She had mentally prepared herself for the difficulty of keeping such a big secret from her best friend, but it weighed heavily on her heart. She knew, however, that if she confided in Olga, Olga would only worry about her. Even setting the counterfeit painting scheme aside, Olga getting caught up in a scandal about her fake romance with Giles was something Fiona wanted to avoid at any cost.
Besides, their agreement would be over soon. The royal ball that night would signal the end of the social season in the royal capital. After the party, the nobles would return to their respective territories for the rest of the year. Well, houses with further business to conduct—like the Heywards and the Bancrofts—might remain in the capital a while longer, but smaller noble families like Fiona’s were generally finished once the season ended. The Clayburns were scheduled to return to their barony within the week.
After the royal ball, I’ll return his ring, he’ll return my watch…and our fake romance will end.
Truly, their agreement had yielded results beyond their wildest dreams. Fiona’s engagement to Norman was done for, and Fiona was told that Norman was relieved that it “ended before it ever was.” As for Giles, he’d seen a significant decrease in unwanted advances and marriage proposals. Fiona had heard that his parents had stopped bringing up the topic of marriage at all.
At the royal ball that night—a ball she never could have dreamed of attending before all this began—their little charade would come to an end.
She ought to have been happy about it, but for some reason, the thought weighed on her shoulders and dampened her spirits. She had no appetite and could only nibble at the delicious sandwiches Olga had made. Her only silver lining was that everyone would assume her subdued behavior was due to her nerves and her tight corset, and they wouldn’t think twice about it.
When Cecelia returned with the cup of hot tea, Fiona took it and inhaled its comforting scent.
“The royal ball is to be held at the White Palace rather than the royal palace. Do you know what sort of place it is?” Olga asked dreamily of the place with a beautiful name.
“It’s constructed mostly of white marble,” Marianne explained. “There’s also a big crystal chandelier in the great hall, and the building is like a beautiful gemstone. That’s what my father told me, anyway.”
The White Palace stood beside a small lake outside the royal capital. The region on which the palace stood had escaped the ravages of war and was ordinarily restricted to visitors. This would be Fiona’s first time there.
“Each of the many ballrooms in the palace has its own dance,” Marianne continued. “The great hall is reserved only for waltzes.”
“Have you been to a ball there, Marianne?” Olga asked.
“No, I just went to see it once, briefly.” Marianne was a daughter of House Talbott, and her father was the former prime minister. Under normal circumstances, a woman like her would be getting ready to attend the royal ball herself, not helping Fiona. But she had eloped with Kyle, a common-born soldier, before her official debut into high society—so she never received an invitation to any kind of social functions for nobles. “Oh, but don’t misunderstand me. I want to see the White Palace for inspiration in my sewing. I don’t want to actually attend the royal ball,” Marianne added confidently. “I’ve had and caused my fair share of difficulties but regret nothing. Besides, if Kyle and Flora aren’t welcome there, that place is no home to me.”
“Well spoken,” Fiona said.
Marianne is so beautiful, Fiona thought. She wore a plain dress, the sort of thing she would never have touched as a noblewoman. The sun had bleached her hair and tanned her skin, but the sparkle never left her eyes, and her voice was always strong and confident. On her vibrant face lay the satisfied smile of someone who had discarded her past and now lived in the present.
Fiona beheld her own reflection in the mirror behind Marianne. As for me…I’m not so sure anymore. She was beautifully adorned in the finest dress, about to attend a royal ball that women like her never attended. Sure, she looked the part, but she didn’t feel it. She looked down, her eyes falling on the ring on her left hand. When this was all over, would she be able to forget?
She saw Giles’s face in her mind and thought, He’s changed again. He’s a bit different from before. There was no dramatic change, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on what exactly she was noticing. He just felt…closer to her, somehow.
No, he’s always been too close for comfort! But now he’s close in a different way.
Now that her coconspirator wanted her to call him by a nickname to help sell their romance, Fiona felt as if she were constantly playing defense. She wanted a chance to redeem herself, but that was easier said than done.
Tonight is the final event. I need to do my best.
If they made a firm enough case that they were deeply in love, the rumors about them would last all the way until the next social season. Fiona was confident of that. She had only one concern: Could she play her part well enough?
She heaved a quiet sigh, which the others in the room misinterpreted. Mrs. Bennett beamed radiantly at Fiona, coaxing her along. “Come, come, let’s get you in that dress. Don’t you worry, I’ll take good care of you.”
“Yes, let’s!” Marianne said. “Once you get dressed, we still have your makeup to do!”
“Oh, Marianne,” Olga cut in, “Cecelia and I will take care of her hair. Go be with Flora, won’t you?”
“Thanks, Olga. I’ll take you up on that.”
The chatter brought Fiona’s mind back to reality, and she looked down at herself with a sheepish smile. “You know, I’m only just realizing…I’m still in my underwear.” This time, she let herself heave a proper sigh.
They ought to have had plenty of time to get ready, but by the time Olga and Cecelia finished doing Fiona’s hair, it was nearly time to depart.