“So they are,” Ysbeta said. She slipped her hand inside the folds of her gown and produced her card. “Please consent to visit me tomorrow, where we will discuss this further. Do you play hazards?”
“I have played enough to know the rules.”
Ysbeta smirked. “I would believe that of a seven-year-old Chaslander, but not a woman fully grown. We shall play hazards. We shall use the time to negotiate.”
“You will not agree to my bargain?”
“If we’re bargaining, then I’m interested in far more than simply knowledge of one spell. I wish to learn all the magic you know. I want the contents of whatever grimoires you have. We will be inseparable friends for bargaining season. And Ianthe should turn up before it’s time for you to leave tomorrow, so you can see him.”
All the magic she knew. All the grimoires she had for all of Ysbeta’s. It was fair. “All the magic I know. My word on it,” Beatrice said, and offered her hand to Ysbeta. Ysbeta took it and gripped her wrist as mages did when they encountered a brother in the street.
“Be prepared for many questions,” Ysbeta said. “I am most impatient to continue my studies.”
“I will do my best to bring light.”
“Illumination,” Ysbeta said.
“Illumination. Thank you.”
“You learned conversational Llanandari?”
“I read a little. I should read more.”
“I have novels to lend. I look forward to your visit,” Ysbeta said. “Good afternoon, Miss Clayborn.”
They bent knees to each other in politeness, and Ysbeta Lavan left the conservatory, hardly sparing a glance at Harriet, who lurked just beyond the room.
Beatrice stopped in the doorway. Had Harriet listened? Perhaps she hadn’t heard.
Beatrice smiled and extended her hand. “Shall we practice our duets?”
Harriet stared at Beatrice’s hand with a scowl. “No. Why did she come instead of Ianthe?”
Careful. She assembled her words into the most plausible explanation for Ysbeta’s visit. “Ysbeta wished to discern my intentions. She has invited me to call on her in the coming days.”
Harriet’s lips thinned. “That’s not what you said. I just wanted to see if you would lie.”
And she had lied. But Harriet shouldn’t know that, unless she had—
Beatrice pitched her voice to a whisper. That Harriet, of all people would do such a thing! “Harriet, did you use a charm to eavesdrop on us? I thought you avoided magic! How could you—”
Harriet jabbed an accusing finger at Beatrice. “Don’t. You lied. You’re going to play with summoning. If I tell Father—”
“Then I’ll lose my connection with the Lavans,” Beatrice said. “Since you heard everything with your rhyming charm, you know that.”
Harriet stuck her chin out, but she didn’t have a ready retort. Beatrice leaned closer, pressing her advantage. “Ysbeta’s portrait sits at the apex of the ingenue’s gallery in the chapterhouse. She is the most eligible, most influential girl in Bendleton. Llanandari girls don’t attend bargaining season in Chasland—have you ever heard of such a thing, outside of novels?”
Harriet grumbled. “No.”
“Besides,” Beatrice said, reaching for the obvious. “If I’m closer to her, I’m closer to Ianthe. My connection to her is worth anything she asks.”
“But this? It will come to no good. You shouldn’t even know magic. You shouldn’t have those books. This is too dangerous.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“You don’t.” Harriet said. “But I’ll keep your secret.”
“Thank you.”
“For now,” Harriet said.
“They’re secret! Harriet, if you tell Father about grimoires—”
“No.” Harriet flung up her hand, stopping Beatrice’s words on an open palm. “If you get too deep, I will tell Father you’re dabbling in magic.”
“But if he finds out about grimoires . . . Harriet, please. They’re secret.”
“Everything depends on you, Beatrice. You don’t know how to handle yourself in Bendleton. If it had been me—”
“You’d already have a string of suitors,” Beatrice said. “Very well. You will teach me what I need to know with all the connections I will gain from Ysbeta Lavan’s friendship. You will decide what I wear and advise me. All right?”
“I will handle everything,” Harriet said. “Do as I say and you’ll be a success. You need a nap, Beatrice. Ask Clara to make a rosewater and kelp powder poultice for your complexion, and to make a cream mask for your hands. You need to look fresh at all times.”
CHAPTER IV
“Ysbeta Lavan, in this house,” Father said. “My dear. You have done this family proud. Such a friendship must be treasured.”
Harriet glowered at her over a fillet of sea bass. Beatrice finished chewing an asparagus tip and nodded. “I feel most fortunate. Ysbeta Lavan is an influential young woman.”
“The wealthiest, most beautiful woman of bargaining season. Every gentleman will be vying for her attention, and with you standing by her side, a measure of that regard will naturally fall your way.”
Beatrice glanced at her plate. “Yes, Father.”
Father picked up his ale cup. “I don’t praise her to diminish you, my dear. Simply that her looks and her wealth mean she has the pick of any gentleman she cares for—but she can only choose one. And friendship with her brings you closer to meeting her brother, the highest choice of all.”
She’d met him. He’d talked to her, shared her secrets, and stopped the world when he kissed her. But she couldn’t tell that last part, so she ate some of her greens and nodded.
Harriet fidgeted in her seat and picked at the bass. “It would have been better if your caller had been Mr. Lavan. He could have been visiting someone else.”
“Beatrice will outshine any other choice,” Father said, and cut roasted skirrets into bite-sized pieces. “She’s a lovely girl, and I’ve heard more than one comment about the strength of her talent.”
Perhaps her suitors would inspect her teeth and withers. “We only talked.”
A lie, but she would not reveal the kiss that staggered her even to remember it. Father would make an awful fuss, where the much more liberal Llanandari wouldn’t even blink an eye. She exchanged glances with Mother, who kept her opinions to herself.
Father shoved a forkful of sea bass into his mouth and talked around it. “Did you and Miss Lavan have a pleasant visit? Are you friends now?”
Beatrice swallowed a mouthful of bass, nodding. “I’m going to her house tomorrow.”
Harriet turned a jaded eye on Beatrice. “What has Ysbeta Lavan invited you to do at her house?”
Oh. Harriet wasn’t content to pick her gowns. She meant to hold Beatrice’s secret over her head. She could blurt out the secret any moment now. It would all come out. Her room would be searched, the attic found, her grimoires discovered. Father wouldn’t hear her explanations—would never understand them, or her, or what she wanted most of all. He would never hear her voice again, no matter how loudly she shouted or how bitterly she wept.