Silence at last. Tesara set down her sewing. “Let’s go.”
She had hidden her mother’s dress in the kitchen at the back of the pantry, after Mathilde had left for the day. With quick, silent efficiency, she stripped her day dress and got into the delicate silk gown, cleaned and brushed and blotted to remove the wine stain from the Scarlanti’s party. Yvienne helped her dress her hair and draw on her gloves and shawl.
“There. You look lovely.”
Tesara curtseyed with a graceful air. Yvienne snorted, unimpressed. She held her sister’s shoulders for a moment.
“Now listen. You have to lose – until the very end, when you have to win. And then I give you leave to win it all.”
It was the moment she was waiting for, and the butterflies in her stomach intensified alarmingly.
“I’ve been thinking,” she began. “I wonder if I should try to leave – perhaps say that Mama wants me home and I’m already late? Before they’ve lost all their money? Or should I try to win it all, though they won’t believe I’m a scatterwit if I keep winning to the last guilder–”
Yvienne shook her gently. “I promise you, you’ll know the right moment.”
Her sister’s confidence bolstered her own, and Tesara took a deep breath and put on her wrap.
She leaned forward and gave her sister a kiss on the cheek.
“Wait up for me, please,” she whispered.
Yvienne gave a rueful smile. “I will. Now go. Be lucky.”
“Not lucky,” Tesara corrected. “Clever.”
The kitchen door creaked dreadfully, so with bated breath they opened it as quietly as possible, only enough to let Tesara slip through in her gown. She stood a moment, letting her eyes acclimate to the darkness, and then took a breath and walked up to the Crescent.
She had a fearful moment when she thought she heard footsteps behind hers, but she hurried, afraid to turn around and look, and the sound soon faded. Soon she was among the crowds still thronging the main thoroughfares. Here the oil lamps burned steadily and she could breathe easier. She began the long walk up the Crescent.
All I have to do is win.
Chapter Fifty-One
The grand gallery in the Iderci household gleamed with gilt and mirrors, blazing over the guests as they crossed the threshold so that more than one made their bow to Mrs Iderci with one hand shading their eyes. Tesara couldn’t help but take a long look at the gilded and painted and frescoed ceiling, rising twenty feet overhead and supported by massive veined pillars. She tried not to gawk.
When it was her turn to be received by Mrs Iderci, she tore her gaze from the ceiling and curtseyed gracefully, gathering up her wrap in one hand.
“Mrs Iderci, thank you so much for inviting me,” she said, holding out her other hand. “Tesara Mederos, if you please, Ma’am.”
Mrs Iderci was a stately woman in her forties, her brown hair and brown eyes and severe mouth handsome rather than beautiful. She had an impressive bust, over which poured a cascade of pearls in an artfully knotted array.
“Miss Mederos,” Mrs Iderci said, nodding markedly less deeply than Tesara. “How delightful to see you. I’m so glad you could join us.”
And then her gaze turned to the person following Tesara, who moved through the line, grateful to have passed the first hurdle. She handed her wrap to the maid and followed her directions into the little chamber where the women freshened up.
After so many invitations, the routine had become familiar. Tesara smiled at the other girls, and sat down in front of one of the mirrors. This time she remembered paint – just a little color on her lips, and a light dusting of rose on her cheeks and her shoulders. Yvienne had plucked her eyebrows into graceful arcs. For this night, Tesara had found more treasures in the old cedar chest. The beautiful pink dress was now adorned with a net of silk roses around the neckline, transforming it into something timeless and lovely. The little ruff managed to draw attention to her shoulders and her bust, simply by covering her.
I think I do look fine, she thought. She had never been all that vain, or at least not more than in the usual way. She looked very pretty, and maybe it was all right that Jone was flirting with her, and she with him, though she had no intention of letting it go very far at all. A Saint Frey and a Mederos could only end badly. Nevertheless, she still wished he would be there.
This night the other girls were not whispering behind their fans. Tesara spoke with one or two, just small talk about the night’s entertainment, and how fine the evening was, and if perhaps there would be too much wind to take a turn about the garden. (In Port Saint Frey, there was always too much wind to take a turn around the garden, she reflected. But girls always hoped.)
Drawing up her evening gloves, she reflected that she had gauntleted herself much as a soldier would have. She felt a flutter of nervousness as she followed the rest of the girls and their mothers out into the grand salon. It was one thing to play on a wing and prayer. It was another to calculatingly plan out the game with a mind not toward luck but toward winning.
The light from the candelabra and lamps in the grand gallery made her wince. Really, who needed this much light? She caught the dour look two of the mamas exchanged with each another, and then both chuckled ruefully. Ah yes – Alinesse had said that sunlight was a woman’s worst enemy, candlelight her best friend.
Not at the Idercis’, apparently. Even the sun would have been kinder. Resisting the temptation to shield her eyes, Tesara took a glass of sparkling Ravenne wine from a white-gloved footman and sipped, just to have
