Mariselle swallowed and straightened her spine, adopting the posture of serene confidence that had been drilled into her since childhood as she faced her so-called fiancé and his mother. It occurred to her in that moment that she had never once met Lady Lelianna Rowanwood face to face. This moment, awkward as it might be, was actually somewhat historic.
“Lady Mariselle,” Lady Lelianna greeted her, offering a smile as she came to a stop. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure of being formally introduced, my dear. I’ve so been looking forward to meeting the young woman who has captured my Evryn’s heart.”
Mariselle curtseyed elegantly, her mind working rapidly to assess the situation. Lady Lelianna’s smile seemed warm, but it was surely a careful performance. No Rowanwood could possibly be pleased about this match, just as no Brightcrest would ever truly accept a Rowanwood.
“Lady Rowanwood,” she replied, her voice pitched to perfect politeness. “The pleasure is mine. Your son speaks of you with such devotion.”
“Does he indeed?” Lady Lelianna’s gaze shifted to Evryn. “How extraordinary. He does surprise me on occasion, though rarely in such flattering terms.” Despite her teasing words, her eyes lingered on Evryn with such obvious affection that Mariselle felt an unexpected pang in her chest. It was the kind of look she had spent her entire life trying to coax from her own mother—warm, indulgent, and filled with genuine love that required no performance or achievement to earn.
“I admit I’ve heard precious little about you from him,” Lady Lelianna continued, turning her attention back to Mariselle. “Do tell me more about this unexpected connection the two of you have formed.”
“Mother,” Evryn interjected, “perhaps we might discuss the exhibition rather than interrogating my betrothed?”
“Nonsense,” Lady Lelianna replied. “There will be plenty of time for artappreciation. I’m simply becoming acquainted with the young lady who is to join our family.” She turned back to Mariselle. “I must admit, we were all quite taken aback by the news. It has taken some … adjusting, given the nature of our families’ bitter history. But in my quieter moments of reflection, I’ve been reminded that happiness often blooms in the most unexpected gardens. Who am I to question the ancient magic that has bound you together?”
“If only Grandmother shared your sentiment,” Evryn muttered, just loud enough to be heard.
“My family has found the situation equally challenging,” Mariselle replied, her practiced smile never wavering despite the strain. “They’ve spent decades nurturing their resentments, after all. But Lord Evryn and I are determined to honor what magic has ordained. The soulbond represents something beyond our petty family squabbles.”
“Indeed,” Lady Lelianna replied.
An awkward silence descended, punctuated only by the quiet murmurs of conversation around them. Mariselle found herself at a loss for words—a rare occurrence. The script for this particular social scenario simply didn’t exist. What did one say to the mother of one’s fake fiancé when decades of family animosity stood between them? Perhaps she should?—
“Oh!” she exclaimed, her expression brightening with feigned excitement as she remembered the slim volume inside her reticule. “I nearly forgot! I have something for you, my love.”
Evryn’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly suspicious of her sudden enthusiasm. “Do you indeed?”
“Yes.” She reached into her reticule and withdrew the palm-sized leather-bound volume. “I saw it this morning in Thornberry’s Rare Books and thought of you immediately. The shopkeeper assured me it contains the most romantic verses ever penned.”
She extended the gift toward him, beaming with affected adoration. The book—Devotional Poetry Collection: Sonnets for My Beloved—appeared entirely innocuous. What Evryn didn’t know was that she had spent the afternoon carefully modifying the contents.
“How thoughtful,” Evryn said, warily accepting the gift. He lifted the cover to examine the first page, and Mariselle had to suppress a smile. The truly embarrassing poems didn’t begin until page twenty-three.
“The shopkeeper said it’s quite moving,” she continued innocently. “I do hope you’ll read it aloud to me sometime.”
A nearby couple glanced their way, the woman sighing dreamily at this apparent display of spontaneous affection. The man nudged his companion and whispered something that caused her to blush.
“I shall treasure it,” Evryn replied, closing the book and slipping it into his jacket pocket. His smile was filled with apparent tenderness, but his eyes met hers with unmistakable suspicion, a silent message that he didn’t for one moment believe this to be a genuine gift.
Movement near the room’s entrance caught Mariselle’s attention, and she spotted Petunia being all but dragged into the gallery by her mother. Petunia’s expression conveyed such profound ennui that Mariselle had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.
“My dear cousin has just arrived,” she said to Lady Lelianna, a note of genuine warmth creeping into her voice. “If you’ll excuse me, I simply must greet her properly.”
“Of course.” Lady Lelianna replied. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, dear, and you simply must come to tea. At Rowanwood House. Tomorrow, perhaps? Or next week, if that would be more convenient. I shall send a formal invitation, of course.”
Mariselle blinked, momentarily caught off guard. Tea? At Rowanwood House? This was venturing far beyond the public performance she’d anticipated. The charade was meant to be maintained at social gatherings, not intimate family settings. Though tea at Rowanwood House would at least provide Mariselle’s mother with the ‘intelligence-gathering’ opportunity she’d been promised.
“That would be lovely,” she heard herself say, the practiced social response emerging automatically. “Though I believe I’m having tea at The Charmed Leaf tomorrow afternoon with Lord Evryn.”
“Oh, indeed! The Charmed Leaf!” Lady Lelianna gave her son a look filled with meaning. “How very interesting. Well, it shall have to be next week then, my dear.”
“Yes, of course, my lady. Thank you. And I’m honored to have made your acquaintance.”
Mariselle sank into a graceful curtsy as Lady Lelianna looped her arm through her son’s and steered him away. Glancing up, she caught theunmistakable relief washing over Evryn’s features as he allowed himself to be led away from her.
The feeling is mutual, she silently assured him.
She made her way across the gallery as Petunia was steered past Lord Jasvian and Lady Iris, who had apparently just arrived as well. Iris caught Mariselle’s eye briefly, and Mariselle slowed, not wanting to endure the awkwardness of forced conversation with the half-fae woman. The memory of the encounter in the Thornharts’ garden maze last Season still caused an uncomfortable tightness in her chest. But Iris merely regarded Mariselle with a carefully neutral expression before turning back to her husband.
