“Honestly,” Margarete said, “I wasn’t even sure I would make it through confronting Worthington. It could have gone a hundred different ways. But, now that I have, I can plan my next step. I gave him a week to respond. I still have time.”
“How did he take it?” Faye asked.
“I just turned the man’s world upside down,” Margarete said. “Obviously, he was upset. But I think he’ll realize in time that this is best course for everyone.”
“Men can be proud,” Faye warned. “But he’ll get over it once he’s licked his wounds and had a good sulk. He’s got an estate on the Spire after all. There’s no way that you could set him back so much that he can’t recover his loss in a few days.”
Margarete smiled, but there was still a nagging part of her that didn’t feel it was that simple. Worthington had been hurt by her actions, she’d seen it in the way his countenance had slacked while she’d confronted him. However, his disappointment hadn’t been because she’d demanded money, or even because she threatened to share the contents of the letters. She sensed it was something subtler than that.
“I don’t think Worthington wants me to go,” she said.
“Why wouldn’t he?” Faye asked. “You’re practically dynamite around his neck. He’d be a foolish not to send you as far away as he can.”
“I know,” Margarete said, trying to explain. “But when he sent me away the first time it was like he was doing it against his will. And then, when I confronted him about it, I had that same feeling when I told him I was leaving. I don’t think he wants me to go.”
“Then what does he want from you?” Faye asked.
“I don’t know.”
“So he fell for you,” Faye shrugged. “He’ll get over that too. I’m sure you’re not the first girl he’s gone after.”
“Maybe,” Margarete said.
She stopped walking, and Faye paused as well a few steps ahead when she realized Margarete was no longer beside her. Margarete just couldn’t shake the feeling. It clung to her so stubbornly, holding her back even as she tried to move forward. She felt tangled up. Despite all of her efforts to deny it, her secret would not be silenced.
There was a part of her that loved him too.
“What is it?” Faye asked.
“That night,” Margarete said, “when I came home upset. Worthington had just told me that he loves me.”
Faye adjusted the basket on her hip. “So?”
“I think I might be breaking his heart.”
Faye laughed out loud before walking on and Margarete hurried to catch up.
“Well?” Margarete asked as they turned down the street to the house.
“Well, what?”
“What do you think?”
Faye shrugged. “Men don’t know what they’re saying when they say it.”
“Is that really what you think?”
“What is it you’re after?” Faye asked. “Do you love him?” Faye’s voice was compassionate, but Margarete felt as though she’d just been hung out to dry with the laundry.
“No,” Margarete lied, as much to try to convince herself as she was Faye. It felt wrong. She’d grown closer to Worthington over the years, certainly, but the thought of loving him had never once entered her mind before. Not until he’d said it.
And now it tormented her.
“Then what’s the fuss?” Faye asked. “He’s just another man, one in a long line before him.”
“None have ever said they loved me before,” Margarete said.
Faye turned to face Margarete directly. They were just outside the house and the light from inside illuminated her face enough that Margarete could see that the conversation had upset Faye for some reason. Her eyes were moist, and she fought to control the twitch in her cheek.
“There are a lot of men out there who will say things in the moments we want to hear them the most,” she said. “It’s gotten plenty of us in trouble before and there will be plenty of others who fall into the same trap. Do you want my advice? Stick to your plan and get away from this city before. Take whatever chances you have and find something better than this before…”
She turned away, her emotions getting the better of her.
“Faye?” Margarete said, putting an arm out and stopping her from going up the steps. Faye brushed at her cheeks and tried to look away, but Margarete held her hands in hers and wouldn’t let her go. “What is it?”
“It’s nothing,” Faye insisted.
“Is it now?” a man said, stepping out of the shadows on the far corner of the brothel.
Margarete clutched Faye tighter to her at the man’s appearance. He was large, with broad shoulders that seemed to block out the light as he approached the two girls. He was certainly not from that part of the city. His clothes were that of a spire gentleman, with his suit and shallow bowler. His expression was one of bitter scorn as he stared them down.
Something about him seemed familiar to Margarete, but it was hard to pin it down in the poor light.
“Which of you is Margarete?”
“Who’s asking?” Margarete asked.
He sneered. “Not a good time to be out,” he said, positioning himself between them and the steps. “Especially two fine creatures like yourselves. Didn’t your mothers ever tell you not to wander the streets alone?”
“They’re not alone.” Charlotte stood in the doorway and the man stepped way as he realized he was being watched. Charlotte came forward onto the top step, staring down the man as he glared up at her. Clearly he wasn’t happy to have an audience.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” the man frowned, turning himself so as not to be flanked by them. He rubbed his chin with a hand. The other, Margarete noticed, hung rigid at his side. He was clutching at something she couldn’t see in the shadows.
She touched Faye’s arm with a warning hand.
“But now you are,” Charlotte said, taking another step toward him. “And as the matron of this home, any business you have on my doorstep or with any one of my girls is business you have with me. What is it that you want?” she demanded.
“I’m here to collect a certain parcel of letters,” he said. “You know anything about those?”
Margarete was about to step forward, but Faye held her back.
“I’m aware of them, yes,” Charlotte said. “I was also informed that there would be sizable compensation for their exchange. Have you brought what Worthington agreed upon?”
“If you don’t mind,” he said. “I’d rather speak to Margarete about the matter. Privately.”
“That won’t be possible,” Charlotte said. “Any man who shows up at my brothel must consult me before he’s allowed to visit with one of my girls. Now, if this were our first meeting I wouldn’t trust you beyond the doorstep. But since we’ve met before, Lord Dempwolf, you’ll understand if I keep you even further.”
Dempwolf’s eyes trained on Charlotte with a look of annoyance as realization set in on Margarete. She recognized Dempwolf’s voice now. She’d not known him well, but he’d often been in their company when she was out with Worthington.
“You’re Worthington’s partner,” Margarete said.
“You’ve got a good memory,” Dempwolf said disappointedly.
“But why would Worthington send you?”
“Perhaps it’s escaped your mind but you’re meddling with more than just Worthington’s life, lass,” Dempwolf explained. “You forget that I have an equal part of Worthington’s interests. It seems like we have that in common,” he said, glancing at Charlotte. “Can’t manage to keep our interests untangled.”
“If you don’t have the money, then I won’t be handing over the letters,” Margarete said.
“I’d reconsider that decision if I were you,” Dempwolf warned. “Right now I’m here with a reasonable request, one that will serve everyone equally. It’s in your best interest.”
“How is that in my best interest?” Margarete asked.
“Because it saves
you from any future consequences of this little play of yours,” Dempwolf said. “You’re meddling in something over your head, lass. Rest assured, if you make an enemy of Worthington then you make an enemy of me. And, while he may have developed a soft spot for you, my heart is not so soft.”
“Perhaps you should pick your partners more scrupulously,” Charlotte recommended.
“Your point has already been noted,” Dempwolf frowned. “But I was talking to miss Margarete.”
He took another step forward and Faye pulled at Margarete’s arm to urge her away. Margarete held her ground, however. She’d seen men like this before in their interactions on the Spire. She wasn’t about to be turned away because of some show of strength.
“When Worthington complies with my demands, then he’ll have the letters,” she said. “No sooner. You have my word on that.”
Dempwolf stiffened on the point of his hand, his eyes darting between the girls with a calculating look. But Charlotte moved first, advancing down the steps to place herself directly between Dempwolf and the girls.
Her calm unbroken, she gestured to Dempwolf’s concealed hand. “Do you mean to use that tonight?” she asked, her voice cool under the building tension.
Dempwolf glared at her. “If necessary,” he said.
“Now I’d advise you to take your own advice and rethink what you’re thinking to do,” Charlotte said. “You point a knife at my girls thinking that will make your problem go away, but what you don’t realize is that what concerns one of my girls concerns all of us.”
She gestured to the house and Dempwolf looked up. Sure enough, each of the brightly lit windows held the silhouettes of the girls as they watched from inside.
“You cannot silence an entire house,” Charlotte said. “Not mine. You forget who you’re meddling with, too. Who on the Spire has a special interest to see this house protected.”
Dempwolf frowned deeply as reason worked over him. Margarete almost swore she could hear him growling as he bristled at Charlotte.
“Leave here,” Charlotte demanded. “And see to it my girl’s request is met. That is your best option to ensure your own preservation.”
“And how will I know that will be the end of it?” Dempwolf demanded. “How will I know she won’t come chasing after us for more?”
“Because my girls are all too familiar with the meritocracy,” Charlotte said. “Trust me, they would much rather be rid of it once and for all.”
Dempwolf stood stiff, his eyes searching the three women. Margarete could see the war playing out in his mind. It tortured him to leave without what he’d come for. But in time his body relaxed, and he pocketed the knife in his hand.
“What’s done is done,” he said, his frown deepening. “It seems that I am bested. By common slag, at that. Very well. I’ll go. But I warn you, Margarete. Be careful with your next move. Our business isn’t finished just yet. You wouldn’t want to make things messier than they’ve already become.”
He turned and trudged away down the street with heavy feet. Margarete, Faye, and Charlotte climbed the steps as they watched him go. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that any of them breathed again.
“I’m sorry you were dragged into that,” Margarete said.
“Nonsense,” Charlotte said. “I meant every word I said. As long as you’re under my roof he’ll have to challenge all of us to get to you. What are we if we can’t rely on each other? By Septigonee’s lot, that’s all we’ve got.”
Margarete smiled. It was true. She would be hard pressed to find a better group of women than she had in that house. Charlotte was by far one of the strongest women she knew. Margarete would have a hard time leaving for that reason alone.
“But, if it were me, I would hurry and make your arrangements,” Charlotte warned. “Dempwolf seems to me an impatient man.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Keeping Up Appearances
THE NEXT MORNING EMMALINE AND her parents were early to the sky port where they were scheduled to meet up with Farley and Edmond. Emmaline protested at first, trying to explain to them how unpleasant it had been to spend time with Edmond at the ball, but her parents were in no mood to entertain her objections. They seemed preoccupied with other things and Emmaline was left to sulk in silence as she was dragged along.
The races were scheduled to commence within the hour, and to pass the time Farley suggested they take a moment to see the ships that were docked while they waited. Emmaline walked between her parents as they admired the many beautiful vessels, from zeppelins to more nautical style ships. Farley led the tour, explaining the history of each ship as well as sharing the hand he had in many of their construction. He was certainly knowledgeable in his craft, and he didn’t mind proving it.
The weather was ideal, with clear skies and only a light breeze coming in from the sea. Edmond was particularly keen on this point, mentioning it several times as he would check the strength of the wind by wetting his finger and holding it into the air. Emmaline only half listened, distracted by how many times his finger went into his mouth and fearing he’d try to hold her hand.
He stayed close to Emmaline throughout the walk. She’d hadn’t thought anything of it at first but soon it was clear that Edmond was making a considerable effort to spend time with her. Emmaline found it irksome, feeling no warmth from the gesture. Clearly his father had encouraged him at the ball to pursue her.
Nonetheless, she tried to be polite and make the best of it. She even turned it into a bit of a game, stepping strategically between her parents repeatedly to make it more difficult for him to follow after her. Her mother gave her a severe look after a particularly clever dodge, however, and Emmaline resigned herself to her fate.
Fortunately for her, Edmond wasn’t yet so accomplished as his father and so she wasn’t forced to engage in much conversation.
When they’d seen practically every ship and learned their intimate histories even Emmaline’s parents seemed at their limit. They were shown to a series of raised, private boxes where they could relax while waiting for the races to begin. From their vantage point Emmaline could see out over the cliffs down the steep walls to the Basin below. Again, the sight stirred both excitement and fear within her and she found a seat safely against one of the rails so as not to get too close.
“What?” Edmond asked, clearly humored by her reaction. “Do heights upset you?”
“I’m still not quite used to them,” Emmaline explained.
“Spend enough time around Edmond and he’ll have you as comfortable with the sky as the birds,” Farley smiled. “Not only is he training to step into the family business, but Edmond is quite the talented pilot as well. He’s raced in solo-craft tournaments like this one at almost every festival for, what is it? Three years now?”
“This will be my fourth festival,” Edmond boasted.
“Are you racing today then?” Emmaline asked, more eager to learn he wouldn’t be joining them in the booth.
Edmond nodded, pointing down to a small series of solo-craft docked below. “Those are my ships just there,” he explained.
“You have more than one?” Emmaline asked. “Why?”
“My darling,” Farley laughed. “We’re shipbuilders. You can’t expect him to fly in the same vessel twice, can you? Not when we can improve upon them.”
“Exactly,” Edmond smiled.
“Perhaps Edmond would show you his ships?” Farley suggested. “Before he has to leave us?”
“Oh, no thank you,” Emmaline said quickly. “I think I’d rather just sit and… watch the birds.”
Both the Farley’s and her parents looked disappointed, but Emmaline was quite certain she couldn’t endure another walk on the docks.
“Suit yourself,” Farley frowned.
“Would it be such a terrible thing if you were to show a little more enthusiasm toward Edmond?” her mother asked, taking a seat beside Emmaline once Edmond had gone. “It’s clear he favors you. You should be flattered to
have a suitor, particularly at your age.”
“But he’s so boorish,” Emmaline explained. “Mother, trying to talk to him is like talking with a wall. It’s so one-sided.”
“He’s young,” Mary said, as though that were enough to excuse him. “Not everyone can be as great a conversationalist as you.”
Emmaline didn’t appreciate the sarcasm.
“He’s still boorish,” she insisted.
“And you’re being awfully silly,” Mary pointed out. “And short sighted. Edmond comes from a particularly accomplished family. It would do well if you’d entertain his affections. For us?”
Emmaline folded her arms. This conversation wasn’t going anywhere she wanted to go.
“You shouldn’t judge him so harshly,” Mary said. “There are more things to consider in a proper match, like whether they’ll be able to provide a comfortable home. Edmond and his father have made it clear that they could—and that they might be willing,” she added.
Emmaline tried to picture the quality of life that Edmond could provide. Certainly she would want for very little, but she could imagine very little beyond that. She couldn’t see them eating or conversing together in the mornings. Nor could she see herself at his side at dinner parties or balls. She certainly couldn’t picture a family. All she could picture was the prolonged silence and short conversations that would measure their years.
It wasn’t the fantasy she’d harbored growing up.
“Well,” Mary said, rising from her seat. “If I were you, I would consider him. Options are a luxury we often overlooked until they’ve escaped us.” She touched Emmaline’s shoulder before she joined Worthington and Farley again as they continued talking about the ships they could see from their booth.
Emmaline felt a profound sense of melancholy come over her as she thought about Edmond. It didn’t matter if he came from an important family, she couldn’t ignore how he’d acted at the ball—or how he’d treated Stoddard. If her mother had been there she’d have known for herself how Edmond’s eyes wandered, and how reluctant he’d been to dance with her.
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