Page 35 of The Artist and the Dragon

Lord Griffith laughed.

She slapped a hand over her mouth and quickly looked around, but no one seemed to be listening in. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have spoken that way.” It wasn’t what was expected of young women, especially not in such company. She might speak her mind at home without concern, but here? She really was trying to do better.

But his humor remained as he took her in. “Why not? Rhion was a vile king who deserves such. Good riddance, I say.”

She sighed in relief, sinking back into her chair.

This time, it was Lord Griffith who leaned in over the armrests. “But you see, that’s why I like you so much.” He placed a hand on her arm, and she nearly jumped out of her seat. “You know what it is to be common. Your true self hasn’t been polished away by all of this.” He gestured around them. “I suppose time has done more to refine my less noble edges, but it’s comforting to find someone else who might be seen by some as an outsider, someone who has ventured among these peacocks and not lost themselves amid the feathers.”

Her heart pounded in her ears at his touch, threatening to drown him out, but she forced herself to focus on each and every word. “I quite agree.”

His fingers tightened ever so slightly on Bronwyn’s arm. Her breath caught as he leaned. But then he paused, his gaze cutting behind them and halting.

Lord Griffith released her and stood. “Ah, Lord Osian. Mr. Davies.”

Bronwyn glanced over one shoulder. More patrons had arrived at their box, and this time, she recognized one of them from tea.

“Miss Davies.” Bronwyn smiled at the woman who approached with the two men Griffith greeted. Over the past several months in the capital, Bronwyn had met many women of high standing, noble birth and not. Of them all, the one she found the truest comfort and companionship in was Miss Charlotte Davies. In fact, she’d been the only bright spot at the tea Bronwyn had recently hosted.

Though not of noble blood, Charlotte’s late father, and now her brother, ran a significant business importing foreign goods, and the wealth they’d earned had purchased the family’s invitation to society as it were. Society might have scorned Lord Griffith’s rise in status in his younger days, but the Davieses didn’t seem to share those troubles, making easy friends with members of the nobility despite their lack of title. Although perhaps it was Griffith’s title itself that had caused the scorn—the fact that it had gone to an outsider rather than a family like the Davieses, who’d been invited in by the nobility themselves.

Either way, it was that common upbringing Griffith mentioned that made Bronwyn and Charlotte kindred spirits. Or perhaps it was Charlotte’s frankness of word and ability to tiptoe the lines of proper society so as not to offend but to still be herself. Charlotte was the blueprint off which Bronwyn tried to model her behavior these days.

“Miss Kinsley!” Charlotte’s brown curls bounced along with her garnet pendant earrings as she waved gleefully and made her way forward. Styled and primped to perfection, Miss Davies looked like she’d just stepped from her boudoir, an act of magic in itself on such a hot day. She could give lessons on the perfect way to match accessories to any outfit, but then, one would have to be able to afford jewelry like hers, and few could. Especially not sets that matched so well. “I didn’t know to expect you today.”

True, Bronwyn had not said anything about the races.Perhaps I should have, she mused. Either way, the woman’s presence was a breath of fresh air, literally and figuratively. And Goddess above did she need it. She could have sworn Lord Griffith was about to do something entirely ungentlemanly, and the mixed emotions in her middle said she wasn’t quite ready for that, especially not with an audience.

“Lord Griffith here invited me.” She gestured to where he’d rounded the short aisle of seats to greet the newcomers.

Charlotte waved her little lacy fan. “I’m glad of it. You simply must meet my brother, Elis!”

The brother in question turned toward her. His shaggy brown hair framed a pleasant face made even brighter by his broad grin and dimpled cheeks. Despite the slight wildness of his hair, the rest of him was well put together, a strong if somewhat petite figure filling out his day suit. “A pleasure. You must be Miss Kinsley. And this is our friend, Lord Osian.” He indicated the other gentleman with them.

The half-grin Lord Osian offered and the twinkling in his blue eyes unsettled her. Or maybe it was his pointed features, or the amount of styling oil slicking back his blond hair. As his gaze roved down her body, she swallowed thickly and forced herself to look back at Charlotte instead.

“It is lovely to see you,” Bronwyn said. Which was true, even if their companion left much to be desired despite his title.

The bright notes of a horn sounded from the racecourse, drawing their attention and silencing much of the crowd.

“Last call for bets on the first set,” Lord Griffith said.

“We’re so close to the first race already?” Charlotte asked in dismay. “I told you we should have come sooner.” She swatted at her brother.

“Shall we go place our bets?” Lord Osian stared at Bronwyn as he spoke, his eyebrows jumping.

“Let’s!” Lord Griffith patted Osian on the shoulder, Mr. Davies laughed, and the three of them headed toward the stairs at the back.

“Aren’t you coming?” Charlotte shifted her attention between Bronwyn and the men.

“I wouldn’t know who to bet on,” Bronwyn admitted. Nor was she in a rush to be near Lord Osian, to say nothing of the moment she’d shared with Lord Griffith minutes ago.

“Oh, but that’s half the fun.” Charlotte laughed as she waved her fan. “Perhaps I’ll place a bet for you. You need someone to cheer for, after all,” she added with a wink before trailing after the men.

Once they’d left, Bronwyn could finally breathe again. And she did, sucking in one deep breath, then another, before dropping into a chair at the edge of the box. She snapped open her fan and waved it in earnest, savoring the cool air and moment of peace.

“The races are bringing out all the royals today,” said a deep voice from the next box over.

The voice startled her, causing her to suck in a breath and flick her fan to the side as if she could ward the man off like a buzzing fly.

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