Page 55 of Their Blood Queen
I’m put off that his parents aren’t here, but I don’t want to admit as much until I know more.
“I’ll escort you to your new quarters, where you can retire before the fête, Lady Scarlett,” he finally says when he realizes I have no intention of moving closer to him.
I brush invisible dust from my corset before accepting a parasol from one of the handmaidens who I imagine will be following me around like my shadow. She doesn’t match my gaze, making me frown. I befriended Rosie and any other handmaiden who was part of the staff. That’s what my mother did, too. Everyone was treated like a human being no matter their station.
It doesn’t seem like that’s the norm here.
If I’m to become a Duchess, then things will change in the Rinhold household.
The parasol, though, is a bane I must endure. The sun is already setting, but Cain forbid a dusting of sunlight hits a Lady’s face. My dialect already slipped a few times in the carriage, so it’s best if I don’t let all of my flaws as a village-born show.
“Will your parents not be greeting me as well?” I ask the Earl to inform him of the source of my displeasure.
A passing shadow darkens his eyes like clouds in a storm. “I’ll speak to them later. I presume they are busy with preparations, but I did ask them to be here.”
I force myself to calm my ruffled emotions. I can’t rightly be vexed with the Earl for his family’s actions, especially if he tried to make me feel welcome.
“Very well,” I say, slipping my arm through his.
The tension in his jaw eases with my unsaid forgiveness. As long as he’s trying, that’s all I ask of my future husband.
Future husband, I muse.
Have I already accepted my role here?
The marks along my back tingle as the Earl strikes up casual conversation, easily making me feel like I belong at his side as his mansion devours me whole.
The interior wealth is astounding, as is the space. Massive halls span in all sorts of directions, sparking my curiosity when I notice more than one reading nook tucked into various corners between statues and finery.
Every now and then, I spot a depiction of Cain, our city’s ruler. I can’t help but feel like his eyes follow me.
A chill runs up my spine every time we pass one.
It’s not a full tour, but the Earl finally leads me upstairs and pauses outside one of the larger bedrooms. I can see as much because the door is open, and the extravagant space inside could fit three of my living quarters at home. There even seem to be two attached rooms, I’m guessing a bathroom and a parlor, from what little I can see from my vantage point.
“My room is just down the hall,” he says with a friendly smile, but that news puts me on edge.
“And my handmaiden?” I ask. “Where are her accommodations?”
The Earl seems confused for a moment, then his gaze drops as he smiles. “Ah, you’re concerned about your virtue during the courtship.” He flicks his blue eyes up to mine. There’s a spark of interest there, but I somehow find it charming instead of predatory. “The staff is downstairs and can be summoned by bells. However, know that I will never ask anything of you that you’re not comfortable with, Lady Scarlett. I simply meant to keep you close because, should you stay, this will become your permanent chamber.” He shifts his cane into his other hand. “I suppose I hoped you would make yourself comfortable within it right away.”
My eyes widen. “And at the conclusion of the courtship, should we choose to marry, I would not stay with you?”
His tongue flicks out to wet his lower lip. I can’t help but let my gaze drop to follow it. “If you would like, but it’s not customary. I should not presume you are interested in my advances, even if you were my wife. I can only come into your chambers upon invitation, you see. That prevents any miscommunication on my part.”
While I have been educated on social etiquette and upper-society culture, this doesn’t seem customary. At least, the houses in the Industrial Sector did not operate this way.
My mother does have her own room, now, but only after she fell ill and it made sense to separate her and my father. We weren’t sure at the time if the illness was contagious. It became apparent that it wasn’t. At least, no one else succumbed to the same symptoms.
But this has nothing to do with illness and everything to do with respect.
Do they really respect women this much in the Magic Sector?
Maybe they do, or maybe that treatment is only reserved for the upper class. Regardless, I’ve already revealed enough of my ignorance to my potential husband, and I have a fête to attend in a few short hours.
I’m already tired, but that’s to be expected. I consider myself lucky that my marks don’t pain me to tire me further. At least, most of them don’t. My hand falls to my stomach because that’s the only mark that stings.
Or maybe I’m just imagining the sensation.