Page 40 of Their Blood Queen
He’s a man, just like the rest of them.
I tilt my head as I watch Earl Rinhold draw up a chair and strike up idle chatter with his mother. He’s giving me a chance to observe him, one I take full advantage of.
He’s not like the men I remember from that night.
Earl Rinhold is gentle and charming. The air around him seems lighter when he grins, and I can’t help but watch him as my curiosity blooms.
He slips his fingers through silky blond hair that immediately bounces back into stubborn, wavy curls. His stormy blue eyes are mesmerizing, seeming to change color with the light like mine do. They were definitely marble blue earlier. He steals a glance, giving me one of those faint smiles again, before responding to something his mother had said.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t read him at all. Normally, some sort of thought pops into my head, some flutter of emotion or hidden agenda.
There’s just… nothing.
My ability is one that comes from my background, but it’s a secret that only my mother knows about.
A secret that she’ll take to her grave.
Grief swells in my chest before I push it down. I cover my emotion with a cough, and I dab my lips with my napkin before putting the cloth back onto my lap.
I need to visit her before I leave.
It might be the last time I see my mother ever again.
“She’s overwhelmed, the poor dear. You’ll have to ask her again, Edward,” Duchess Rinhold says. Her tone has sharpened like a blade, drawing my attention enough for me to pull out of my own thoughts.
Earl Rinhold doesn’t seem put off in the least. Instead, his eyes brighten when I finally look at him. “You’re quite beautiful, Lady Scarlett. Is red hair a recessive gene in the Nightingale line?”
My eyebrow inches upward. Even though I’m unprepared for the personal question, I have an answer ready. It’s not the first time my legitimacy as an Elite member has been questioned because of the unusual color of my hair. “Would you like to see my papers, Earl Rinhold?” I glide to my feet with trained elegance. “If you’d like to follow me to the study, they’re?—”
He stands and offers me his hand. I don’t take it. “Please, Lady Scarlett. I was not questioning your origins. I wanted to know if…” An adorable blush warms his cheeks, making his eyes look brighter as he smiles, then he looks down. “Presumptuous of me, perhaps, to bring it up so early. I’m just asking about children.” His gaze flicks up to mine, trapping them in the storm of his sapphire irises. “Perhaps they will have red hair like yours?”
I furtively blink at him, not sure if I should be offended or flattered.
He is already thinking about children?
Nothing about him gives away anything more than what he’s said. The silence of him unnerves me and fascinates me all at the same time.
“Was that really your question, Earl Rinhold?” I ask as he finally pockets the hand he had been offering.
He hums before he answers. The sound does funny things to my insides that I try not to think about. “No, it seems I’ve fumbled my way off topic.” He licks his lips, looking at me with boyish charm before he speaks again. “Would you like to go to a fête with me, Lady Scarlett?”
“A fête?” I dumbly repeat.
Why am I a broken record today?
His mother clears her throat as she rises and flicks her fan open, then seems to beat the air with it. “At the Rinhold residence, of course,” she adds as her curls brush over her shoulder. “In three days’ time.”
“For me?” I squeak.
Duchess Rinhold trills with an irritating laugh that’s one octave too high. “Dear me, no. The Choosing for the Rinhold Village is in three days, child. Doesn’t your family hold celebrations, too? The Nightingale Village’s Day of the Choosing should be…” She counts off on her fingers. “Right, a little under a week from now. I haven’t seen an invitation, so I’m going to assume it’s a quiet affair for the Nightingales.” Her eyes glitter. She knows my family can’t afford a party, and she just demonstrated that she already knows the ins and outs of my family’s business down to the Day of the Choosing on the train schedule. “You’ll get plenty of fêtes of your own if you pass the courtship,” she adds.
My cheek stings in the same place where my brother had struck me, but it feels like Duchess Rinhold lashed out at me with words rather than her hand.
And the sting is sharper for it.
She acts as if the courtship is some sort of test, one that I’ll have to pass if I’m to earn my place as her daughter.
Earl Rinhold seems to have noticed that the blood has completely drained from my face—making me feel faint again—as he reaches out to steady me.