Because everyone knew where the money came from.
Follow the money – it was a damned labyrinth, she thought. She knew merchants. There would be files somewhere with that information. It was just a matter of finding it. She couldn’t go back to the Hall of Records though – the polite fiction of an education in merchant economics would only work once, and the TreMondis had been distinctly unimpressed when she reported where she had taken the girls that day.
There were no other field trips or special educational treats in the offing. Despite the children’s clamoring she had put off their demands for another astronomy night. Fortunately, Port Saint Frey weather had returned to form, and the nights had been too cloudy for stargazing.
They had been perfect, however, for undercover operations. Telling Alinesse and Brevart that she was required to stay over to help Nurse manage the children while their parents entertained, she spent one entire night stocking her cave with provisions.
The sun was rising over the mountains, lighting up the city and the harbor, just as Yvienne gained the Crescent, casting a glow over the white city of Port Saint Frey. The harbor sparked to life, a few dolphins bounded into the air, and the cry of the gulls and the chiming of the Cathedral clock tower mingled in the fresh, cool summer air. She stopped for a moment to appreciate the view.
Tonight was the Scarlanti salon, to which Tesara had been invited. She would simper and laugh, and play cards badly, and when they were softened up by the act of a silly wayward girl with nothing but fluff between her ears, Tesara would be laying the groundwork for her attack on their purses.
Yvienne almost wished she could be there to see it. Instead, she planned a foray at the Kerrill house, where Amos Kerrill would be celebrating his eighteenth birthday and the attainment of his majority. If the party were anything like the private party at the Maiden of Dawn public house, it would be easy pickings. Young, drunk and rich – the Gentleman Bandit would have an easy romp of it.
And then this is the last one, she told herself, a bit regretfully. She had to focus on her task, which was to find those files. But she had said that about each of her outings as the Gentleman Bandit, and each time, another lovely opportunity presented itself.
The last one, she told herself sternly. The Gentleman Bandit must enter retirement.
Tesara offered her hand to Mrs Scarlanti and curtseyed delicately.
“Thank you ever so much for inviting me,” she said, putting a breathless note in her voice.
“We’re so happy to have you, dear,” Mrs Scarlanti said. She was Jeni Scarlanti’s mama; Tesara had bowed to her in the anteroom at many other salons. Mrs Scarlanti had not bowed back then. Tonight, however, she smiled warmly at Tesara. “So many of the young people have gone to the Kerrill birthday party, I’m quite surprised we have you here.”
It was a malicious little dig, but Tesara was prepared. Pretending scatterbrained distraction, she perked up and waved a hand.
“Oh look! It’s dear Mrs Havartá! Mrs Havartá, may I play at your table tonight? I do believe you’ll bring me luck. Thank you again, Mrs Scarlanti.”
She didn’t look back to see how Mrs Scarlanti rued her misplaced hit. Mrs Havartá gave her friends an arch look but welcomed impetuous young Tesara well enough.
“Better here than at the Kerrills’,” the woman said. “Saint Frey save us from callow youth. And it’s nice to have a night away from chaperoning.”
“Except for me,” Tesara said brightly.
The other women laughed. Mrs Havartá linked an arm. “Come along, dear child. Tell us all about your family.”
Tesara was in fine form. She kept up the airy chatter, deflected the questions with disingenuous answers, and shuffled clumsily with little squeals when she dropped the cards.
And somehow, she kept winning.
“Goodness, Miss Mederos, you are indeed playing well tonight,” Mrs Havartá said, when Tesara maneuvered yet another pittance out of her. “I suppose I do bring you luck.” The last she said with a sour smile.
“Oh, do forgive me!” Tesara said with a brilliant yet anxious smile. “Am I winning too much? I don’t mean to do.”
“No, no, dear, it’s quite all right. If we don’t watch out, you will become a formidable opponent,” she said.
Madam, you have no idea.
Since most of the young people were at the Kerrills’ that night, there were few couples dancing. Most everyone sat at cards, some in serious play, others more in conversation. Laughter and talk rose up above the shuffle of cards and clack of dice. Servants roved attentively with the silver-white sparkling wine of Ravenne and small tidbits of lovely food. Tesara kept a wineglass at her elbow but only pretended to sip.
She won another hand, again a pittance, and mindful of Mrs Havartá’s sour response, only gave a demure sigh of pleasure and pulled it in.
“I do say,” said a masculine voice coming up behind them. It was Mr Havartá and Mr
Scarlanti. “Not a smile between you. You ladies are gaming most seriously.”
“Miss Mederos has been, at any rate,” Mrs Havartá said, still annoyed. She gestured at the pile in front of Tesara. “Her luck has changed.”
“Her luck and her station,” a mama muttered.
Tesara bit her lip. “I do apologize,” she said, and tossed off the rest of her wine. “I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just – I thought – am I not supposed to try to win? I didn’t know it was a bad thing.”
She let tears well up, brought on by the strong wine. She stood, scraping back her chair and gathering up her winnings. Seriously, she thought. It’s barely a hundred guilders. Hardly something for them to go on about.
But she was a Mederos and she had overstepped her place. Rage rose in her, and with it, a dangerous rise of energy in her fingertips.
“Perhaps the ladies should take a respite
