Page 48 of Legacy of Thorns
Fin nodded, and they strolled toward it, weaving their way through the crowd. As they walked, they caught snippets of conversation.
“Sucha lovely event!”
“A bit embarrassing if you ask me. Hardly a decoration in sight.”
“Have you tried the raspberry tarts? They’re delicious as always. But I’d avoid the lemon ones. Nasty stuff.”
“Excellent orchestra! Even better than the one at the last ball I went to—and that was in the capital.”
Daphne shook her head. Apparently it would be easy to get people talking—everyone seemed eager to give their opinions.
At the refreshment table she took a lemon tart in a spirit of defiance. After one bite, she smuggled it back onto the table, subtly wrapped in a napkin. She should have had more trust in the unknown critic.
“You don’t want to touch the lemon ones,” a woman said in an under voice. “But the raspberry ones are quite nice.”
Daphne smiled at the woman. “I’d heard as much, and was just thinking that I should have taken the warning more seriously.”
The woman, who was dressed in expensive brocade and wore a slim mask, laughed. “You’re just like my daughter. Some of us have to learn from personal experience. I understand completely.”
Emboldened, Daphne stepped closer. “I don’t know many people here, but you seem like the kind of person who knows everyone.”
The woman stood a little straighter. “You’ve got a good eye, my dear. Despite the tart.” She winked at Daphne who smiled back.
“I was wondering about a few of the gentlemen.” Daphne indicated a random man in an elaborate suit, his diamond buttons having caught her eye. He looked about ten years older than her and had no woman on his arm.
“My dear!” The woman shook her head. “I can see you set your sights high. But Lord Tremlow is notoriously picky.” She gave Daphne a second look. “Not but what I can see you’re a beauty behind that mask, my dear. I daresay you have enough to attract any man’s attention.” She tittered behind her hand.
“Oh.” Daphne flushed but pressed on. “What about him, then? Over there in the purple jacket.”
The woman turned to look. “Lord Barlowe? Yet more of your discerning eye, indeed. Not but what he’s a little on the old side for you, I would have thought. But then much can be overlooked when a man comes with a castle.” She winked.
A lord? And a castle? Daphne glanced over her shoulder at Finley, who was trying to look uninterested in their conversation as he filled his plate at random.
The woman followed her gaze, lowering her voice to a whisper that was still loud enough to carry. “I can only assume he’s your brother, my dear. No woman who came on the arm of a man like that would have eyes for other men.” She let out a hearty guffaw, which Daphne returned with a sickly smile.
“Do you know Lord Barlowe well?” Daphne asked, trying to get the conversation back on track. “Have you visited his castle?”
“Oh, one meets Lord Barlowe everywhere,” the woman said. “So I suppose I know him as well as anyone might expect. But you’re quite right that it’s about time he threw a ball of his own, and perhaps a house party as well. I’ve heard enough about that white castle by the lake that I’ve a hankering to see it with my own eyes.”
“So you’ve never been there? Do you know anyone who has? I would love to hear it described in more detail.”
The woman smiled at her. “I can see you’re a cautious type, and there’s nothing wrong with getting all the facts first.” She lowered her voice again. “Especially if you’re going to give up a man like that.” Her eyes lingered on Fin.
“Yes,” Daphne said awkwardly, “so if you know anyone who…”
“Try Lady Sartenet.” She waved her fan toward a woman wearing bright orange with feathers all over her mask. “I believe I first heard of the white castle from her.”
Daphne thanked her and extricated herself from the conversation as gracefully as possible. When she stepped back to Fin, she let out a long breath.
“Very nicely done.” His warm smile both teased and affirmed. “We’ll make an actress of you yet.”
Daphne shuddered. “No, thank you.”
“Let me guess,” he laughed, “it was too fatiguing.”
“Far too fatiguing. But now I have to do it again.”
“Lord Barlowe…” Fin murmured, a crease of worry between his eyes. “Connections with the nobility was bad enough, but he’s a lord himself with a castle besides? What possible interest could he have in me and Archie?”
