Whatever words Luci would have said were stripped away by the slight shake of Brielle’s head, her wet hair quickly braided to the side. Fine, Luci would keep her opinion to herself for now, but they would have to talk about this even if it wouldn’t change her mind. What was done was done.
“Excellent.” Lord Treveon cleared his throat, standing. “I must be getting back to court then.”
All at once, an inferno rose in Luci as she saw his game for what it was. He could have sent a letter or a page, but he had come in person because he knew Brielle wouldn’t say no to him. Even if she had been ill in bed, she would have said yes. He was a coward and a sham of a father all wrapped in one.
“You’re leaving,” Brielle said quietly.
Lady Margaret reached out her hand, though she couldn’t reach Brielle, “You know how busy your father is. I don’t think King Rupert could do without him more than a moment, but I’ll stay with you till the ball, sweet girl. We can travel together.”
Brielle responded, and words were exchanged, but all Luci could think was that these women deserved better. They deserved better than the man who reeked of ambition and manipulation as a husband and a father. True enough to form,Lord Treveon stood and glanced at Luci; narrowed eyes and thin lips were a message enough. Luci was not invited to the ball.
“I would speak to the girl in private a moment,” Lord Treveon said.
Brielle’s body stiffened next to hers. “I don’t-”
“It’s fine,” Luci said, her fire thawing to ice.
“Brielle, sweetheart, I want to show you the newest fashion I brought home. Maybe we could think about what you’d like to wear to the ball.”
At least Lady Margaret was a good woman. The youngest of seven daughters, she had often spoken of being overlooked, but Lord Treveon had seen her fortune that her father had made through privateering and saw an opportunity. While she loved the life of a lady, Luci had once found her crying, staring at a portrait of Brielle’s mother holding her as an infant. It was then that Luci had understood her a little better. It was also the reason Luci tolerated Stasia and Drusilla. They were the daughters Lady Margaret could never have.
Despite the invitation, Brielle turned to Luci with a question. All Luci had to do was ask her to stay. As tempting as it was, some problems couldn’t be left to another day. So Luci nodded and pressed a kiss to Brielle’s cheek.
“I’ll meet you upstairs,” she said.
Brielle nodded even though her heart-shaped lips were turned down into a frown. The sooner she got this over with, the better. Part of her wondered if Brielle knew what her father was about to say. If she really understood the depth of his disdain for her. Probably not. Luci was careful never to speak ill of Lord Treveon because she knew it would hurt Brielle. Life was already cruel enough without breaking the illusion of one’s father.
A nip at her ankle had her letting out a startled squeal, but when she searched for the source, Stasia was already followingclose behind her mistress and Brielle. The little beast. If only she knew what she did to offend the rats so much.
“You know they say dogs can sense a person’s soul,” Lord Treveon said, his back to her as he stared at the empty fireplace.
It felt like an unequal balance that Luci wasn’t prepared to concede to be sitting while he stood with his hands folded behind his back. When she stood, he turned abruptly, scowling at her. His caterpillars all looking rather angry.
“I did not dismiss you,” he said.
She would not bow. “I was merely tired of sitting.”
“You are insolent,” he shot back.
Holding out her hands in supplication, Luci fought to understand why he disliked her so.
“You and I both love Brielle. Isn’t that enough?” she asked.
“No.” The answer was sharp, sure.
If that wasn’t enough, then the truth was nothing ever would be. They would always be enemies if Brielle weren’t enough common ground. Even if Luci didn’t understand why, she wouldn’t make it easy for him. When they were fifteen, after their trip to court, Lord Treveon had tried for the first and last time to get rid of Luci. He had his footman throw Luci into an unmarked carriage and down into Picadilly alley, where most of Meridia’s homeless tried to survive with three gold shillings and the clothes on her back. Only the gaslight lamps to show her what lies in the dark, waiting amongst the stench of human waste.
It was a time in her life that she fought hard not to remember. Three days she lived on the streets. The first shilling was for a blanket, the second a bowl of soup whose contents she was grateful never to know, and the last- the last she still kept at the edge of Brielle’s bed where she slept. A reminder of how easily life could change and how cruel the world could be.
Her next step would have been one of the workhouses where you died from illness or from exhaustion, but in the meantime, there was a cot to lie on. The other option left to her was to sell her body, and while she would never have judged the women who chose it, she wasn’t able to bring herself to. Probably enough time at the workhouse would have made her more pliable to the idea.
She never made it to the workhouse, though. Mrs. Blakesley had found her and begged her to come back to Blythe. Brielle had taken to one of her fits, and they had used all of Luci’s tonics to no avail. Of all the things that had happened and she had seen during that time, nothing made her blood run cold like when she saw Brielle’s pale, lifeless body. The fever had taken too long to break, and she was cold where she should have been warm.
Luci had made more of her tonics, the one with jasmine and aloe in particular. Coaxing it down Brielle’s throat without her choking had been the hardest, but after that was done, she had washed off the germs of Picadilly and changed her clothes. After that, it was hard to remember. She had lain next to Brielle, waiting for her to wake up. It might have been hours or days, but her name on Brielle’s lips was a sound she would never forget.
Maybe Brielle would have gotten better without Luci, but since those days, two things had stayed the same. Luci always made sure that there was enough stock of tonics for every occasion to last years, and the other was that Luci never left Brielle’s side again. Not even Lord Treveon was brave enough to chance what happened then again. Or at least he had not been till now.
“You aren’t to go to the ball,” he said with a rueful smirk, as if he thought Luci would be hurt not to attend a party with pompous royals and preening nobility.