The only appointment on my schedule during the three days leading up to my meeting with Madam Macaron, was with Madam Graye.
I'm sure everyone can guess what my face looked like when Marissa informed me of the booking.
"Haaaaaaa," I sighed. "You only let her book one slot this time, right?"
"Yes, Miss," Marissa affirmed, arranging my tea table neatly. "Though it's not like we have anyone else filling up the time, these days," she added in a mutter.
I didn't even bother scolding her for that last bit. She was absolutely correct. With the Lord Pendleton case wrapped up, the last of my ongoing scandals had been finished. (Except for the Count Graye case, of course. Which wasn't exactly making a lot of progress.)
Things hadn't been this slow since I first started my scandal making, and that was only because word hadn't gotten out yet. I wondered if someone had left me a bad review on the black market that was scaring off all my potential customers. But I couldn't think of a single unsatisfied customer who would have done so. And none of my victims had enough credibility left to their names to do so either.
Maybe the universe itself was forcing me to focus on Count Graye. Like some kind of sign that it was finally time to take down that haughty, untouchable bachelor.
But signs from the universe didn't pay the bills, unfortunately.
Luckily, Madam Graye brought a lovely bag of silver coins with her for her appointment—a little token of appreciation for all my hard work thus far.
-or so she said.
I thought it was more like a bribe—bordering on a threat—to work a little faster.
The woman's demeanor was pleasant enough, especially for a woman being abused by her adopted son. She asked about my progress, listened eagerly to my report on all the interactions I'd had with the subject so far, and grinned uncontrollably when I mentioned the meeting with Madam Macaron at Sweet Heaven.
"Oh, a quaint little dessert shop," she chuckled into her glove. "It sounds like things are really moving along."
I was floored by the Madam's ability to infer just how pivotal this meeting with Madam Macaron was to the overall scandal. For most people, I'd have to connect the dots for them to understand. Madam Graye really had a talent for seeing the big picture, I had to give her that.
The astute woman got up to leave almost immediately after that.
"Look at the time. You should start getting ready for your meeting," she insisted, glancing at the clock on the wall that clearly said 11:00. "I hope it goes well for you! Make sure to catch that horrible son of mine!"
"Uh.. yeah.." I trailed off as Madam Graye showed herself out of the parlor. Considering how I couldn't seem to get rid of her last time no matter what, her sudden exit seemed bizarrely out of character.
Could it be that Count Graye was not only suspicious of me, but of his mother as well? Had his abuse gotten worse?
"Marissa, bring me my finest dress," I clenched a fist in my lap. "This meeting has to be perfect. I owe it to that poor woman to absolutely destroy her son."
My maid obediently brought me my lavender outing dress and did my hair in a loose, curly bun. Then I sat at my desk scribbling angry theories on papers for the next three hours until the time came at last to embark on my journey to Sweet Heaven.
As the pastry shop was near my townhouse, I opted to walk.
I stepped out my front door at 3:30 on the dot, leaving me thirty minutes to get there. I'd already calculated that if I walked at about 80% of my normal pace, or 50% the pace of someone in a hurry, I'd get there exactly at 4:00.
The walking speed and time of arrival were both crucial. I would use the leisurely pace to establish my image as calm, collected, and uneager—not a woman extremely excited for the meeting and too cheap to rent a carriage. Then my exact punctuality would display my natural talent for timeliness.
Madam Macaron would subconsciously get the impression I was sophisticated and tactful, which would set the perfect tone for our meeting.
I'd also prepared multiple unassuming questions and discussion leads that seemed innocent enough on the outside, but could lead to some deep dirt on Count Graye.
With all my careful preparations, I was feeling extremely confident as I pushed open Sweet Heaven's front doors at 4:00. The host greeted me right away and asked if I had a reservation.
"I have a meeting here with the owner," I announced to the man.
"Ah yes, the 4 o'clock. Right this way," he smiled and bowed. Then I followed him up the stairs to the left of the front counter. At the top was a quiet conservatory.
"Here you are," the host said as he pulled out a chair opposite the person sitting at the only occupied table.
"I believe there's been a mistake, Sir," I politely informed him.
He raised his eyebrows, glancing between me and the table's occupant. "Oh, has there been a mistake?"
The occupant rose. "There's been no mistake, Henrik. She's here to see me," he reassured the host.
"No I'm not." I gave the host a pleading look. "I'm here to meet Madam Macaron."
The host ignored me and gestured again to the chair. "Please sit, My Lady."
I tried to protest again, but the man at the table cut in. "The Madam was kind enough to set this meeting up on my behalf." He joined the host in motioning me to be seated. "You see, I didn't think you'd agree if I asked you myself."
"That's… super shady," I mumbled.
"What was that?" the man at the table asked.
"Ah, nothing." Slowly, I sank down into the seat I had been offered. "I have no idea where you got the idea that I'd reject your invitation, Count Graye."