Page 52 of Love & Letter Charms
These are not the suggestions of a friend but rather of someone determined to see me utterly ruined. I can only imagine the satisfied expression on your face as you drafted such outrageous proposals, secure in the knowledge that I would be properly affronted.
Well, congratulations. I am thoroughly scandalized.
And yet …
You’ll be intolerably pleased to know that I completed dare number one. Yes, I actually climbed to a rooftop and gazed at the stars. Though ‘climbed’ suggests far more athleticism than was actually involved. There was a perfectly serviceable staircase.
I would like to say I accomplished this with grace and poise, but that would be entirely false. In fact, I managed to make a complete fool of myself by tumbling backward into a bed of luminous flowers when startled. Yes, the easiest andleast embarrassing item on your list, and I still managed to thoroughly humiliate myself. Thank you for that, R.
The stars, however, were magnificent. Thousands upon thousands scattered across the darkness like diamonds on midnight velvet. The Silver Swan was particularly clear tonight.
And while gazing upward, a thought occurred to me. For the first time since our correspondence began, I wondered if we can see the same stars.
You mentioned once that you live beyond the United Fae Isles. How far, exactly? Far enough that our night skies differ? I find myself suddenly curious whether you can see the Silver Swan or if entirely different constellations watch over you.
I still maintain that the majority of your list is absolutely outrageous and entirely unbecoming of a lady. I have half a mind to burn it and pretend I never saw such scandalous suggestions.
But I suppose I should admit … stargazing wasn’t entirely terrible.
Still trying to recover my dignity,
L
Dearest L,
You did it! YOU DID IT! Forgive me for shouting in a letter, but I’m simply beside myself with delight. You have no idea how widely I’m smiling right now.
I confess, I half expected you to tear the list into tiny pieces and never write to me again. The fact that you not only kept it but actually completed the very first dare fills me with disproportionate joy. Even if it was, as you pointed out, the least scandalous option available.
As for your embarrassment, you have my sincerest apologies for the incident, though I confess, the idea of youtoppling into a bed of luminous flowers does possess a certain charm.
But may I point out something of critical importance? You apparently survived! Your world did not end. Your reputation remains intact. And I suspect, beneath your protests and embarrassment, you feel rather pleased with yourself. There’s a particular satisfaction in doing something unexpected, isn’t there? In stepping just slightly outside the careful boundaries you’ve drawn around yourself?
I wonder if this might make it easier for you to attempt a slightly more challenging dare next. Whatever appeals to you. You need not complete them in order, you know. Though I would advise against starting with number twelve. That seems like something to work up to. (Though I remain endlessly curious about who might be fortunate enough to receive such attention from you.)
Exceedingly proud of your bravery (and eagerly awaiting your next dare),
R
P.S. What a strange coincidence—I found myself gazing at the Silver Swan tonight too. It appears the same constellations watch over us both.
Chapter Fourteen
“Furthermore,”the High Lady announced, her voice carrying across the Blue Parlor with that effortless command that made even the most casual observation feel like royal decree, “each of you shall host an afternoon tea during your residence at Solstice Hall.”
Aurelise felt her teacup nearly slip against her gloved fingers. She hastily steadied it and set it down on its saucer with a delicate chime of porcelain on porcelain, hoping no one had noticed the momentary lapse in composure. Host a tea? An entire event where she would be expected to preside, to converse, to be the center of attention?
She had, of course, beenpreparedfor such things. From the time she was old enough to coax a teapot’s magic into pouring smoothly, she had assisted her mother in a hundred small ways, arranging flowers, planning menus, overseeing the servants’ placement of silver and china, even advising on seating when family friends came to dine.
But as for the parts that requiredactual engagement—greeting guests, ensuring introductions were made, sustaining the gentle current of conversation—those duties had always fallen to Rosavyn. Her sister, though not yet officially out due toher lack of manifestation, possessed a careless confidence that drew people to her with effortless ease. Their mother’s anxious glances had never tamed her, and Aurelise had long admired that unshakable confidence from a safer distance. But now she was to orchestrate an entire event on her own?
The Blue Parlor, which had moments before felt perfectly pleasant with its cerulean silk walls and silver-threaded curtains, now seemed to shrink around her. What should have been a pleasant enough afternoon gathering—the Crown Court ladies taking tea with the High Lady while being acquainted with the Season’s forthcoming engagements—had transformed into something far more daunting.
“Oh, how delightful!” Lady Coravelle exclaimed from her position on a nearby settee, clasping her hands together with genuine enthusiasm. “I’ve always adored hosting gatherings!”
Of course she had, Aurelise thought miserably. Lady Coravelle probably emerged from the womb knowing precisely how to flutter about a room making everyone feel attended to and amused.
A gentle pressure against her arm drew her attention. Willow leaned closer, her voice pitched barely above a whisper, though it carried a thread of suppressed amusement. “She’s still doing it,” she murmured. “If she persists any longer, I think her face might stay that way.”
