“Except for Albert,” Vanessa agreed readily. “Do you know, I think he must be his mother’s favourite? She smiled the brightest when he danced with her, and she keeps returning to check on him.”
Dora didn’t say the thing that she was thinking. Albert is her favourite because he is broken. She feels she must make up for that with extra love, the same way that Vanessa feels for me.
And that, Dora thought, was why Vanessa would always remember Albert, even if she didn’t recall his brothers. There was an odd defensiveness to her affections, such that they skewed towards those who hadn’t enough affection already. It was an admirable quality, so long as it was measured.
“Well,” Dora said. “I must speak with Lady Carroway, and I should probably dance with Albert at least once. But I intend to warn him about the old hens’ plan. I’ll tell him it was none of your idea, at least.”
Vanessa’s expression fell into a worrisome conflict. She picked at her skirts and knitted her brow. “Do you... not like Albert, Dora?” she asked.
Dora blinked. “Of course I like him,” she said. “I meant all of the things that I said about him. But I am faerie-cursed, and I should not be marrying anyone.” Vanessa opened her mouth to protest, but Dora shushed her. “If nothing else,” she said, “Lord Hollowvale might come back for me. I will not put anyone else between that faerie and me, and you cannot convince me such a thing would be either reasonable or kind. Perhaps if I am ever cured, I shall think on the possibility.”
“The Lord Sorcier will cure you, then,” Vanessa said stubbornly. “And you will marry whomever you like.”
Dora leaned over to kiss her cousin’s cheek. “And you will remind me of this moment, I am certain.” She turned to open the door back into the ballroom. “Decide on your husband-to-be soon, Vanessa,” Dora said. “We will need plenty of time to scheme against the hens if you are to marry someone that you like.”
Vanessa smiled at that. “I will redouble my efforts,” she promised.
Dora slipped back inside and went in search of a dance partner.
Albert found Dora in short order—mainly, she suspected, because neither of them was otherwise engaged on the dance floor. As he approached, she took a moment to appreciate their similarities. I am odd, Dora thought. And Albert is odd. And everyone is aware, on some level. The thought made her feel as though they were secret comrades, just waiting to exchange information about the doings of all those other, more normal party-goers.
“You must have made quite the impression, Miss Ettings,” Albert observed, as he came within speaking distance. He looked quite pleased. “I never would have guessed I’d see the day that Elias engaged in unforced dancing.”
“You shouldn’t be so impressed,” Dora told him. “I cheated outright. I gave him a magical riddle to solve.”
Albert chuckled. “Cheating or no cheating,” he said, “it was an unprecedented event. The Lord Sorcier has fled back to his research for the evening, but I daresay he might have actually enjoyed himself first.” He extended his hand. “Might I have the dance he stole from me earlier? If you are not too tired, that is.”
Dora took Albert’s hand obligingly. “I am not too tired,” she assured him. As they headed for the dance floor, she considered him curiously. “Are you aware of the grand conspiracy going on behind your back, Mr Lowe?”
Albert raised an eyebrow at her. “You may need to be more specific,” he said. “These parties are a veritable hotbed of gossip and conspiracy.”
Dora nodded at that. “Of course,” she said. “I am referring to the three matrons who have decided that you and I ought to get married, for varying reasons of their own.”
Albert laughed again. “I am missing an arm, Miss Ettings,” he told her, “not my eyes or ears. My mother is already exceptionally wroth with Elias for trying to steal you from me—her words, not mine. I told her that he was working under the severe handicap of his personality, and that she shouldn’t begrudge him the attempt.”
Dora gave Albert a bemused look. “I am sure the Lord Sorcier would be horrified at the supposition,” she said. “In either case, I simply thought to let you know. I have no intention of marrying at the moment, so it’s rather a moot point.”
Albert raised his other eyebrow at that. “You haven’t?” he asked. “How strange. I thought marriage was why most eligible young ladies came to parties like these. Certainly, everyone isn’t here just to celebrate Edward’s birthday.”
Dora shook her head. “It would be most unwise for anyone to marry me right now,” she said. “Though the Lord Sorcier has kindly offered to help me with my predicament. Perhaps he shall even solve it, if he is as genius as I hear.”
Albert had knitted his brow as Dora spoke—but at this, the lines on his forehead smoothed away, and he seemed quite pleased again. “There is no problem, then,” he said. “For Elias is quite genius. And he is feeling very charitable towards you for some reason, which I think to be a fine thing.” A satisfied smile crossed his face. “Don’t worry, Miss Ettings—I shall be sure to dash my mother’s hopes before the night is through. I shall instead set my sights on the most unattainable lady I can find, and they will all soon leave me be out of pity.”
Dora smiled at that. “How very clever,” she said. “I wish I could take notes, but my own strategies must be more underhanded. It is far harder to foil these plots when you are a woman. If the hens suspect I am making myself unattractive to suitors, they might simply auction me off to whoever bothers to bid.”
Albert considered this seriously. “How troublesome,” he said. “Well... let me think a moment. Perhaps I can be clever again.” He led her past another
