I found myself escorted to the manor's entry-hall. Mustache, who I'd gathered was named Purfree, the poor sap, waited beside me. He'd sent the butler to fetch Lord Regis.
I heard none of the mentioned guests, but the place was wildly large, Purfree could have been telling the truth, "No wonder they can't keep track of their children," I said, bending over a pedestaled Venusian vase that was likely worth more than my lifetime gross earnings.
I held onto hate for what I'd seen in Reilin's eyes. I couldn't name it, but it didn't belong to a daughter, not one mere months from her date of majority. These sort of people had run out of valid ambition and had turned their wants on each-other.
Someone peeked from a rafter overhead, I hesitated on whether to reveal my attention. Luckily I didn't have to press, they descended the stairs. The girl was a year or two Reilin's junior. She wore a pair of rose tinted silver bound spectacles, two circles, over freckle dappled cheeks. Reilin wouldn't have been caught dead in her outfit, a long sleeved ankle length nightgown in matching rose. Her long hair was notably black, an oddity for someone of Durough lineage.
After flashing her a polite smile I dropped my head, as was custom with nobility in such informal circumstances, "Young Mistress."
"You're m'sister's mentor?" she asked, tracing the rail with her fingertips. Her slippered footsteps didn't make a sound. I'd done my research last night, after securing Reilin as a student. She had three older sisters. Either this girl was deceptively youthful, or the house didn't claim her.
"For now," I said, not wanting to dispel my illusion with Purfree. The man eyed her warily, rubbing the edge of one boot against the other.
"Is she okay?" the girl asked, bunching up a small length of her nightgown along her hip.
I don't know. Are you?
"Yes," I wanted to grab her and call on the earth to carry us both out of here, but this building was a noose and pulling would only cinch it tighter.
Purfree bowed. I turned, and found Lord Regis at one of the hall's side entrances. I should have shown him grace, that was the smart play.
How could you?
He looked ridiculous. A crest of that same crimson hair that funneled down into a rolling beard that reached the bottom of his ribs. The cretin wore a gold-threaded silk robe embroidered with numerous herons.
I should have bowed, I wanted to spit.
He waited long enough to confirm I wouldn't pay him the honor before speaking, "My condolences," his voice carried a soft edge that settled over the room's tension like a fire blanket. Beneath its tone and cadence, it would have been the easiest thing in the world to drop into apologies, for intruding on his evening, misplacing his daughter, bothering his watchmen.
Did I really see it in her? That confusion, reluctance, and shame?
He saw the contention in me, strolled forward lackadaisical, placed a hand on my shoulder, and cocked a grin, "She's a hard one to handle."
Is this worth risking my whole fucking career?
Then, in a moment so quick, so innocuous I shouldn't have clocked it, his eyes narrowed toward the girl on the stairs. She took a step back.
Yes.
I had to maintain the illusion. This man had eyes for weakness and duplicity.
"I'm ready to expel her." I let my teeth grit, both in anger and false resolve. The only emotions I could let myself feel were those that made sense on this stage.
"I know, but this is what she wants," he shrugged, as if he had no control over Reilin, "What's your ask?"
I felt like a monster saying it to him, as if I was in his camp. I questioned myself, where I'd gone with her already. But there was a difference, consent. Pure, wanting, willing, consent. Not tainted by expectation or power, "She needs discipline, and I can only do so much with eight hours of instruction."
Come on you ass, play the long game. Give me some rope.
"There's no denying that," he said. The girl receded upstairs, extricating her was a storm of arrows I'd need Reilin's help to navigate, "You want permission to spank? She's eighteen, that's up to her."
My mind went back to Reilin's list of "No thanks" boxes. She'd left one unchecked, vaginal.
What the fuck turned her off the others?
Steel yourself damn-it, now isn't the time.
I turned back to that vase and his hand fell off my shoulder, I made to wrangle my hair and in the same movement wiped a wet eye, "I want twenty-four hour access. I'm proposing she moves in with me for a time, until I can sort her out. We'll have a tight, regimented schedule."
He gave me enough space to hang myself with, to go on. I shot down thirty follow-ups, and he finally spoke, "I'll need reports."
You sick fuck.
It was a test, he wanted to see how far I'd drop for the privilege. I held on a moment longer, and he wrapped himself in that same noose, "I've heard tell of your teaching methods."
I straightened. I wasn't going to hand him tales of Reilin's growth, but this was a request I had to pay some respect, or everything would fall, "Wouldn't it be better to ask her yourself, when all's said and done?"
"I underestimated you." His grin split to his ears.
Yes, you did.
"I think we're speaking the same language. My only aim is to make these young women into their best selves," I slung my waves over my shoulder, "Thank you for your audience Lord Regis. Now if it would suit you, I'll see to tracking her down."
He dismissed me. When I stepped outside the wind met me in a gust, whipping through my hair and wicking the sleaze from my skin. Reilin sat in my office, sullen, hopeful but scared. This was a win, certainly, but the hourglass had tipped. I had to break every link Regis had wound around her soul, but she wasn't the only one. The girl in the nightgown was waiting, and there could be others.