Page 27 of House of Roots and Ruin
“Gerard?” I asked, looking back at him, catching all the details about him I’d not noticed. The expensive silk of his cravat. Alexander’s long and brooding nose, smack in the middle of his face. The heavy signet ring he wore with effortless air, as though he’d been born with it. In retrospect, he had.
He pushed that hand through the thick waves of his hair, giving me an impish look of chagrin.
“L-Lord Laurent,” I stammered, correcting myself.
Before I could dip into a curtsy, he grabbed my wrist, pullingme upright. “There’ll be none of that here,” he insisted, releasing me with another smile.
Though I knew he meant it as a friendly gesture, my wrist stung at his unexpected force. I rubbed at it, feeling foolish. “I’m so sorry, sir. Lady Laurent—Dauphine,” I amended as he wagged his finger at me, “said a footman would be coming to retrieve me. I assumed that you were him. I hope I didn’t offend you.”
I wanted to sink into my mortification and vanish. What must he think of me, growing disoriented by hallways grown too long? Shame burned through my veins.
With a broad gesture, he bid me start down the stairs, joining Dauphine in the foyer. Above us, the skylight was a deep midnight blue, speckled with little pinpoints of sparkles. I stared upat them, trying to find familiar points. They were hard to make out through the chandelier’s splendor.
“My joke was a success,” Gerard announced, leaning forward to press a warm kiss on his wife’s cheek.
“You pretended to be a footman?” Dauphine guessed, her features drawing together with concern. She gave him a light tap on his shoulder. “I told you not to do that. What will she think of us, treating guests in such a manner?”
Gerard only laughed again. “Where’s Alexander? I’m famished!”
He wandered deeper into the house without waiting for a response.
Dauphine slid her arm around mine, guiding me into a new hallway. Mirrors lined either side, reflecting twin vases overflowing with clusters of pink and green hydrangeas. “I’m so sorry for Gerard’s behavior. He can be a bit of a prankster…and I should have thought to warn you about his punctuality.” We passed by a tall grandfather clock and I saw it was already a quarter after eight. “The whole manor has learned to work around his unpredictability. He gets terribly focused on work and only really ever looks up when his belly starts to rumble.” She let out a soft laugh. “Sometimes not even then.”
“What sort of work does he do?” I asked, thinking of all Camille was in charge of—the manor, the shipyards, listening to disputes between fishermen, keeping the king apprised of any strange ships on the horizon. What problems faced lords on the mainland?
“Oh, he’s a—”
“Good evening, ladies,” a voice said, farther down the hall.A second later, Alexander appeared, pushing himself out of the shadows. “You both look lovely.”
He had changed for dinner as well. His suit was an immaculate navy, setting his lighter eyes aglow, and he’d tied his mustard-colored silk cravat into the most spectacular series of knots.
“Miss Thaumas, I wondered if I might have the honor of escorting you to the dining hall?”
Dauphine eased her arm from mine. “Go on. Gerard and I will be in after you.”
I looked down at Alexander. “I’d be delighted. Thank you, Mr. Laurent.”
We set off, side by side. He pushed his chair slowly, matching his speed to my pace. “It’s Alexander,” he said. “Alex, even.”
“Then you must call me Verity.”
“Verity,” he drew out slowly, warm and rich as a mug of steaming coffee. “Do you really stand so formally upon things in Salann? I’ve heard the People of the Salt can be quite a cold society.”
My mouth fell open, surprised by his assertion. “Is that what people say?”
His eyes sparkled and I had the distinct impression he was teasing me, just as his father had.
I decided to adopt their breezy, blasé attitudes, trying it on as though it were a stylish new cape. “You’d be cold, too, if you had to live through our winters.”
He laughed and I liked the sound of it. So easy. Unfiltered.
“You’ve never been to the islands?” I guessed.
“I’ve never been much of anywhere,” he admitted. “Here at Chauntilalie, I’m able to roam about quite freely, but the rest ofthe world isn’t really designed for people like me.” He rapped onthe chair’s armrest. “Or the things we carry with us.”
“I’m so sorry,” I started, unsure of what exactly ought to be said and very certain I didn’t know how to say it.
“Don’t be,” he said, giving the wheels another push. “Just think: if I was off gallivanting about the kingdom right now, I wouldn’t be here, talking with you.”
