Page 41 of The Dragoneers of Longbourn and Pemberley
The supper table was laden with artfully arranged food. Mr. Rosings had not been overly boastful when he had mentioned his cook, if it tasted as good as it looked. A serving woman stood in the corner, ready to run dishes to the kitchen and back. Seated at the table were a handful of people and guests. There was Mr. Rosings, at the head of the table. He gestured to the chair to his left for her to sit. This put her in between him and a woman who shared his black hair and upturned nose, who was introduced as his sister, Miss Elfrieda Rosings.
Mr. Pemberley sat across from Valeraine.
Valeraine had nearly tripped when she entered the room and saw him. What was he doing here? He couldn’t be following her, could he? No, he must have arrived before her. His estate was many days’ journey to the north. She found the nerve to sit.
“Have you met my cousin?” Mr. Rosings asked, seeing her attention on Pemberley.
“We have been introduced,” Valeraine said. She even managed to say it without her voice shaking. The tremors might have come from anger or fear; it was difficult to tell when they were so commingled.
Pemberley couldn’t hurt her. No, he could. He could turn to his cousin — his cousin? Why hadn’t she heard this before? — and obliterate her with a sentence: “Were you aware Miss Longbourn is the masked rider?” Would he? A cousin would be a reasonable confidant, just as reasonable as his close friend Mr. Nethenabbi.
She still wanted to corner him and demand his silence, but the rational part of her counseled against it. It seemed, based on the lack of scandal so far, he was already giving his silence. If she pressed him, he may only reverse his position out of spite.
“Bennington here is attending to some business with us,” Rosings said, “before we leave for the season. You’re coming from Kinellan City, are you not? How are things shaping up so far?”
“It is only moderately entertaining, without you to grace the balls there,” Valeraine replied. “But won’t you miss your nest here?”
“The dragons will be in the capable hands of our stewards. It is only the boring work of organizing the dragons for our tenant farmers that is left, no derbies or real training.”
“I will be returning to my nest for the season, and not going to the city,” Pemberley said. It was with great gravity that he made this pronouncement, as if someone here would cross-examine his plans.
Valeraine didn’t care about where Pemberley would be going, so long as it wasn’t to the papers with her secrets. “And are you, Miss Rosings, going to Kinellan as well?” Valeraine asked, pivoting in her chair to look at the lady.
The fact that this oriented her away from Pemberley was just a happy accident. It would be cowardly to avoid his green-eyed gaze, which had not left her.
“I will,” Miss Rosings said. “The hatchling I’ve been mothering is ready to take his place in the nest. It can do without me for a few months.”
“How many hatchlings did you have this year?”
“Oh, only one. Though, we are anticipating two eggs to hatch next year.”
Valeraine fought down her jealousy. For one house to have two eggs? It was beyond even her dreams for Longbourn.
“We are anticipating three hatchlings next year,” Pemberley commented.
Soon, Longbourn would have its first egg in centuries.
Valeraine turned to Mr. Rosings, putting a smile on her face. She would not let Pemberley rattle her. Her goal was so close. “I would love to see your nest; it must be grand.”
“It is. Even better than Pemberley’s, I would say,” Rosings said.
Pemberley made a little hiccuping noise that might be a scoff, or a cough. “Pemberley nest is larger than Rosings by a dozen dragons,” he said.
“Yes, but it is not the number of dragons that make a nest grand,” Rosings said. “It is also in the dragoneering, the craftsmanship, the very soul of the place. Don’t you agree, Miss Longbourn?”
“Certainly. Longbourn nest is grand with just a single dragon in residence.”
Pemberley’s dissent was clear on his face, brandished at Valeraine in a sneer. “But you cannot —”
“I will take the lady on a tour,” Rosings said to his cousin, “And she can tell us her impressions of the nest.”
Valeraine tried not to let her eyes linger on Pemberley. He didn’t matter here. He would ruin her or he wouldn’t, but her mission was to woo Rosings right now.
“A tour would be lovely,” Valeraine said.
“Yes, tomorrow. I’ve heard how you dote on Longbourn’s elderly dragon. Just wait until you see some real dragons. I might even take you on a flight.”
Valeraine pretended to blush at that, as she knew a proper lady would. Her, going on a flight? Highly unusual. The most scandalous part of it would be going alone with a man, but working with Kesley had inured her to that.
