"The fairy story may be hard to believe, but so long as there are children, mothers, and grandmothers in this world, it will be remembered by all."

Charles Perrault

The chairs in the Lime Hall are placed in a wide semicircle. Because of the soft upholstery on the seats and backs, as well as comfortable armrests, the courtiers are very comfortable. The storyteller sits on the same kind of chair, set to face the others, in the center of the semicircle. For the hostess, Lady Mireya Almikonte, a special place is prepared, close to the narrator. This shows the high position of the lady, but also demonstrates her willingness to put aside being the center of attention for the specially invited guest.

Gerard Roshen, a stocky man in his fifties with almost white hair and at the same time childishly joyful eyes, has chosen quite an unconventional hobby. One that is extremely rare amongst members of the nobility, although very widespread among peasants. This man is a storyteller. He talks to ordinary people, collects fairy stories, writes them down, then adapts them in his own way — in particular, he edits and changes them to befit high society, and finally tells the new versions at social gatherings. That is his hobby. However, he is so serious about this and gives it so much of his time that it might as well be his profession. Who can tell where the subtle line between the two lies?

David and I are sitting among the other guests. In a manner of speaking it is our second date. The first (not counting our meeting at the ball) was a few days ago, on the initiative of the young man. We walked in the garden and had a good time. We talked about everything and nothing. He told me about his childhood, about his mother, about books. I told him about the intricacies of court life. Everything proceeded sedately, calmly, as it should be. No unexpected kisses, passionate embraces or vulgarity in the conversation. No surprises — including unpleasant ones. Hence I felt that a second date would be quite acceptable. Thus, I invited him to this gathering.

At my request, Mireya arranged for David an invitation to today's event, although it was intended primarily for the court. Moreover, without me even asking her she — in a whirlwind of activity — organized a pass for the young Baron that guaranteed him the right to freely enter the palace whenever he pleases. So now we would be able to meet quite often. It remains to be seen whether we would like to or not.

The stories the storyteller tells can be divided into three categories: funny, scary and romantic. Some are written in prose, others in verse. Roshen has just begun a poem, called "Tales for romantically inclined men".

Once there was a charming prince,

Handsome and courageous.

One maid he loved above them all

A darling sweet young princess.

The princess could not love him back

Return his ardent feelings,

For she was sleeping all the time,

Succumbed to a vile curse.

The Prince then saddled trusty horse,

Relying on his luck,

It took three years, three weeks, three days

To reach her ancient castle.

He charged through vales and shaggy crags

He rode through wood and brambles

He finally o’ercame them all,

To kiss his lovely princess.

She woke up from her slumber then

And openéd her eyes.

My darling, called the maiden fair,

Sweet smile upon her lips.

The curse is now defeated! Done!

But then sweet maiden yawned,

Turned in her crystal coffin

And… fell asleep again.

The Prince in fear dashed o’er to her–

Lovely Prince Charming he –

He passionately kissed her whole,

From toes to full red lips.

All this would anyone awake,

However dead she be,

But princess from the realm of dreams,

Would not return to him.

The simple moral comes from this.

And here I speak the truth:

When maiden clings to sleep, not you,

Seek for another lass!

I listen with half an ear, concentrating more on my own thoughts. My gaze slides now and then to Estley, who sits at the back of the room. The Count sits near the door, ready to leave the room quickly if it he is called away on some urgent business — which happens quite often. I cannot get Estley out of my head, because the problem of Mireya's dowry still persists. It will be necessary to come up with a new plan, considering our last attempt with the Duke's seal failed spectacularly. However, the fact that it failed makes me more happy than sad. Luckily, Emma was able to return the seal without difficulty.

Soon, however, my attention shifts to another subject, and I'm ashamed to admit that it too is quite remote from the storyteller's work. Slowly looking around the room, I notice that Lady Audrey Stelton, the youngest of Mireya's ladies in waiting (not even nineteen, I think) is sitting next to Baron Crown, a courtier, one of the Duke's people. No, their closeness itself would not bewilder me, even if it were due only to random selection of chairs. Yes, the palace is divided into two opposing camps: supporters of the Duke and those who support his sister. However, in most cases it doesn't imply a personal conflict between courtiers. Lord Cameron and I are an exception to the rule rather than the norm. After all, we're not just committed to one side; we find all accessible (and sometimes inaccessible) ways to promote its interests. Hence, it confuses me how these two — Audrey and Crown — interact during the storyteller's performance. The Baron takes the girl's hand, then hugs her around the shoulders, and clutches her knee with his fingers. In short, his behavior is on the verge of indecency, and in some cases, perhaps beyond. Audrey, in turn, clearly does not feel at ease. She sits, tense as a taut string, red blotches on her pale face. From time to time she tries to wriggle gently, to avoid Crown's touches, but he insistently draws her back to him, and she does not resist.

What I see looks very suspicious and I do not like it all, but as long as Roshen continues to read, I cannot in any way interfere. Therefore, I can only watch, which I do.

Meanwhile, the poem comes to an end, and Roshen begins to tell a different story, this time in prose. It is a pretty well-known story about a girl who has a wicked stepmother and evil half-sisters, who make her work hard for hours on end. About how she goes to the ball in a magnificent dress and shoes that her fairy godmother conjured for her, trimmed with fur, and how the prince falls in love with her, and later finds her with the help of her lost shoe.

When the storyteller finishes the story, the audience applauds as usual. But even before the latest clapping subsides, Marquis Oliver Troll winces and sarcastically says:

"Your whole story is painfully obvious. It is impossible to believe a word of it."

The courtiers whisper excitedly among themselves, waiting to see what would happen next.

"Could you clarify what you mean, young man?" Roshen asks, tilting his head curiously to one side.

"Very well." Lord Troll settles in his chair, completely at ease, stretching out his legs, and begins with a flashy lazy voice to recap. "First of all, how could your heroine dance at the ball? According to the story at home all she did was cook porridge and mop the floors. Meaning she was an ordinary servant. How did she manage at the same time to master the complex art of dance? And learn good manners? And all this to such a degree that a prince, the heir to the throne, would fall for her?! Now second: you say that the prince found the heroine using her lost shoe. But this is pure nonsense. What, do you think, was the size of the girl's foot if her slipper did not fit anyone else? Was she a dwarf, or a giantess? Moving on. Just don't get me started about the security service in the Royal Palace. Not only did they let a complete stranger in without asking for any background information, they also allowed the suspicious guest to disappear, despite the fact that she was running away so fast that she lost one of her shoes. It didn't even occur to them to find out what was going on? What if she had been a thief, stealing some valuable thing? Or what if she had slipped poison to one of the guests, and was now running away from just retribution? Meanwhile, if the guards had detained her, or at least followed her, there would have been no need to bother with the shoe."

As I listen, I feel a growing sense of outrage. Why is he bothering the harmless storyteller? If he doesn't like it, he doesn't have to listen. Nobody has been dragged to the reading against their will; nobody breathed down his neck and forced him to come.

"What is this nonsense?" quietly whispers David in my ear.

"Want to ask him that?" I whisper back.

"I do not think it's a good idea. Why add fuel to the fire? It's better to just drop this discussion."

I do not think so. From my point of view, the conflict has started solely because of the efforts of the Troll, and the storyteller should be supported. I am even prepared to give the Marquis a piece of my mind, when I notice that Estley has opened his mouth to say something. But then he thinks better of it, instead looking at Roshen.

I also look at the storyteller. To my surprise, he does not seem offended, but rather amused. He gives Troll a cheerful look, in which understanding is mixed with curiosity.

"Young man, you reproach me that my stories are not similar enough to reality," he said. "But allow me to ask: why do you think that reflecting it was my goal? Fairy tales do not exist in order to portray life as it is. Honestly, it would be quite presumptuous of me to compete in this matter with God. If you are interested in reality, why listen to fairy tales? Just open your eyes and look around."

"What then, in your opinion, is the purpose of fairy tales?" asks someone from the audience.

Roshen smiles significantly.

"There are several," he replies. "One is to entertain. Yes, just to entertain the distinguished audience, lift up their spirits and for a short while distract them from the very reality which this young man holds so dear." He glances mockingly at Troll. "There is of course, another goal: to teach. Please note: never to preach. To show the listener some facet of reality. But in order to most clearly distinguish the matter at hand, all the other facets are often transformed, working towards the goal set by the author, and not towards mirroring reality. Please allow me to keep the others to myself. Otherwise, I will reveal all my secrets and immediately be out of work: because from this point on, any of you will be able to take my place."

The audience laughs a little at the joke, and then the event arrives at its natural conclusion.

After saying goodbye to David, I walk down the hallway toward Mireya's chambers when I once again see Crown with the young lady in waiting. This time, he has Audrey pressed against the wall in one of the high niches and is kissing her neck, clearly intending to go lower. She doesn't struggle, but stands still as if petrified, biting her lip with her eyes shut tightly. Perhaps it is none of my business, but I can't just pass by.

"Baron Crown!' I try to make my voice as stern as possible. "Don't you think such behavior in the corridors of the ducal palace is a bit inappropriate?"

"Lady Antego!" The young man does not try to hide how much my intervention irritates him. Meanwhile, his little piggy eyes literally shine with lust, causing me to physically revolt with disgust." I'm sorry, but I think you're sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. As they say, three is a crowd."

"Lady Stelton is Ms. Almikonte's lady in waiting," I icily remind him "hence her behavior is not exclusively a private matter. If she behaves in an improper manner, it besmirches the whole court."

Audrey muffles a gasp at such cruel accusations, but I am focused on the Baron's reaction at the moment.

"In this case, I hasten to inform you," with outright hostility in his voice he says, "that Lady Stelton is my lawful bride. We are engaged and plan to marry in the near future. Therefore our behavior, albeit somewhat uninhibited, does not cross any lines. Many people in this palace behave far more promiscuously."

I look at the girl expectantly.

"Audrey, is this true? Are you really engaged?"

Audrey with an unhappy face subtly moves her head. Apparently, this move is supposed to be a nod, but it isn't very convincing.

"Audrey?" I raise an eyebrow questioningly.

"Yes," answers the girl quietly, this time giving a more noticeable nod. "Yes, we are engaged."

"Which is now proven," triumphantly says the Baron. "I hope, now, Lady Antego, you will continue to go your own way and leave us to our own devices?"

By all accounts, that's what I should do. But something about this situation is fishy; her eyes are too frightened, perhaps even haunted, staring straight ahead. And I remember well the days when I too felt trapped.

"Well, you hoped in vain," I snap. "Lady Almikonte wants to see her waiting-lady. Lady Stelton will have to come with me. You will have to postpone your date."

The Baron clenches his teeth, but does not dare to argue. The wish of the Duchess is law in this palace, of course, so long as it does not go against the wishes of the Duke. The girl, looking absolutely terrified, does not rush to come out of the niche. I have to give her a severe glance, to ensure she follows me. At the same time she looks more and more at the floor. She doesn't bid her supposed fiancé goodnight, even with her eyes.

I silently walk through the corridors, occasionally glancing out of the corner of my eye to make sure that Audrey is still following me. I don’t go into Mireya's chambers, instead heading towards the ladies in waiting rooms. I enter the first empty room I see, and close the door behind my companion

"Is... Lady Mireya going to come here?" Audrey asks timidly.

"Please have a seat." I point to the chair, and she sits down. I sit in a chair facing hers. "Lady Mireya is not coming. She did not call you. I just used this excuse to talk to you alone."

I keep my eye on the girl's reaction, and see that as she heard my confession, she grips the armrests of her chair.

"Audrey, what is going on?" I try to speak softly, but at the same time add a little firmness to my voice, feeling that otherwise she wouldn't reveal anything to me. "Is Baron Crown really your fiancé?

"Yes," lowering her head, she confirms.

"So you agreed to marry him?"

"Yes".

"Voluntarily?" I ask insistently.

This time she is silent for a long time, and squeezes the armrests so hard that it seems as though they would fly into flinders at any moment. However, in the end her response remains unchanged.

"Yes," she whispers again.

I take a deep breath, trying to figure out what to do next. You would think my conscience should be clean. I have asked all the right questions. I have made it clear that I can offer her assistance if need be. She has refused. What else can I do? Moreover, Audrey's behavior, I have to admit, is beginning to get on my nerves. After all, it is obvious that she is unhappy with her relationship with Crown. Why, then, keep silent when I'm trying to help her? If she chooses this course of action, then it serves her right.

"Lady Inessa, may I go?" she asks, as if to confirm the validity of my last thought. Looking up at me pleadingly, very quietly she added "Please."

"You may," I shrug.

She jumps up from her chair and flees from the room. At the same time I notice that she has tears in her eyes. I throw back my head in exasperation. Well, what would you have me do?

The next day I return my thoughts to the subject and decide after all to talk to Mireya. When we are alone, I briefly tell her everything I had noticed. Mireya listens to me very carefully.

"So what do you suggest?" She asks.

"Try to talk to her." I shrug. «Audrey chose to remain silent when I asked her, but it is likely that with you she will be more forthcoming. If not, then... I'm going to assume that we did everything we could, and the rest is not within our power and is not our responsibility."

So that's what we do. Mireya calls her lady in waiting for a conversation, for which only the three of us are present. It turns out I am right: in Mireya's company Audrey starts talking pretty fast. Partly because she trusts Mireya, and partly because she is used to obeying her superiors.

As it turns out, the situation is as follows. Audrey's family hid an unsightly fact of their history, or a terrible secret – it depends on how you look at it. The secret is that her father was an illegitimate child. His father was not his mother's, Audrey's grandmother's, husband — the Viscount — but some nameless lover. You would think that this would just be so much water under the bridge. However, the problem is that it means that Audrey's father has received his title illegally. He is not the son of the Viscount, and therefore, in the absence of other children, the viscountcy should go to more distant relatives.

The estates of Baron Crown and the Stelton family are in close vicinity, practically neighbors. Accordingly, members of these families are constantly in clear view of one another. The servants, too, mingle among themselves. In such a situation it is difficult to keep family secrets. Recently it became clear that it was not possible in this case. The Baron came to Audrey and said that he knew her father's secret and planned to open the public's eyes to such a blatant crime. He would only change his mind if she agreed to marry him. Such a disclosure would mean grave trouble for her father; disgrace for the whole family and, of course, the loss of the entire property. For a few days she struggled in doubt, but in the end she accepted the Baron's terms. He, in turn, knowing of her helplessness, indulged in completely indecent behavior, which I witnessed.

During the story, Audrey predictably starts crying; she more or less calms down only some time after she has finished. Mireya is affectionate with her, offers her tea, and then lets her go, placing her in the maid's care and promises to help to the best of her ability. When the door closes behind her, Mireya turns to me.

"Well, what do you think?"

After asking this question, she stands up and slowly walks around the room, apparently considering her own attitude towards the situation. She stops near the half-open window.

"Tell me, how do you feel about this spot on her family tree? "I answer with a question.

A lot would depend on Mireya’s attitude toward this problem.

The Duchess waves her hand in the air to demonstrate her indifference.

"I beg of you!" She replies. "How long has it been? No, I certainly do not support the illegal transfer of titles. But Audrey's father, whoever conceived him, in fact, grew up as the son of Viscount Stelton. He was as good as adopted by the Viscount. In such cases, the question of inheritance becomes extremely ambiguous."

"Yes, but the King would have hardly ruled in favor of Audrey's father" I say gently.

"True," Mireya grimaces, "but, I repeat, how long ago was it? I do not think it is correct at this stage, after several decades, to reconsider the issue of succession. Besides," her eyes twinkle mischievously "I know Audrey very well. But about her distant relatives, who in theory could inherit the viscountcy, I know nothing. So I'm not that concerned with their interests."

"Terrible," I reply with a laugh and without the slightest hint of terror. "In the court it's not a question of justice, but of who knows whom."

"What do you expect?" Mireya seems surprised by my irony. "There is no other way, child, and not only in the palace."

Sometimes she calls me “child”. Not because she is much older than I. Our age difference is only two years. Rather, our different status plays a role. One way or another, I am not offended by this.

"If so," I cut to the chase, "we need to find a way to rein in the Baron. It will not be easy. No, I can of course play dirty tricks on him. But it is important to ensure that the Crown will not betray the confidential information to which he is privy. To do this we will have to back him into a corner. And to be honest, I can't really imagine how we would do that."

Mireya sighs heavily; after slamming the window shut, she walks to the banquette.

"My brother could take care of it," she says glumly. "He would surely find a way to nail that bastard down, especially considering he's a member of his suite. But you know, Conrad and I are not on the best of terms right now. After he decided to rob me, and I gave him a piece of my mind … Anyway, it does not matter" she waves. "Even if I ask my brother for help, he would probably refuse, just out of spite. Therefore, such a move is pointless."

I thoughtfully look at Mireya. Maybe she's right, and an appeal to the Duke really is doomed to failure. Or perhaps we should at least try this method, but Mireya just does not want to. She doesn't want to lick his feet, or apologize to him. Or she is afraid that in return he'll require a voluntary renunciation of part of the dowry. However, there is no point speculating. Mireya will not turn to the Duke for help, that's a given, and therefore I should start from what I know.

Suddenly a solution dawns on me. At least, I hope it is the right one.

"There is no need to approach the Duke," I say. "There's another way. I will turn to Lord Estley. He has enough influence to deal with the Baron without the intervention of the Duke."

"Lord Estley?" Mireya brings together the tips of the fingers of her right and left hands and frowns pensively. "Do you think he would agree to assist us?"

"I think he would," I nod. "In the end, it's not in his interest for people close to the Duke to allow themselves such antics. It paints the whole court in a bad light. And Lord Estley likes to maintain order in the palace."

"But even if he agrees, there is another difficulty," said Mireya. "If we let Estley in on the problem at hand, we reveal the secret of Audrey and her father. Do we have the right to do this? And if we do, won't it just create even more trouble for the girl?"

"I do not think so. First, blackmailing a person like Audrey is not his style. She's not an important enough figure for him to get his hands dirty. Second, even if he blackmails her... to be honest, it would still be better for Audrey than what is happening now. Estley at least would not humiliate her or enjoy her helplessness. He would simply put their acquaintance to good use, creating a mutually beneficial cooperation. And third of all... well, leave it to me. I have reason to believe that Audrey is in no danger from him. I will be very careful and test the waters before I trust Estley with information of a sensitive nature." We discuss the situation a bit more. As a result, my plan is approved, and we each go our own way. The next day I go to talk to Estley.

Since the incident with the ducal seal, we have not been communicating much.

We only greet each other in the hallways, usually limiting ourselves to a curt nod. Nevertheless, I can't say that I am greatly weighed down by the need to set up a meeting with the Count. The anger caused by his outrageous letter has long since faded. Now I am even able to look at the incident with humor. Besides, after having the opportunity to properly reflect on those events, I am well aware that my own actions were, to put it mildly, not the most harmless, and wounded Estley's pride. So I consider us to be more or less even, and am ready to cooperate. The only question is whether Lord Cameron thinks the same.

This is why I prepare myself thoroughly for our conversation. I take my time picking out my outfit, and eventually settle on a tender fuchsia dress with floral patterns and a deep square neckline. My hair maid, as usual, gathers my hair in a high hairstyle, but this time I tell her not to use the usual clips, but special ones that have just became fashionable. Each time I move my head, they flutter gently like butterfly wings. I choose a modest pair of earrings matching the color of the dress. Finally, the shoes: open, showing my delicate feet, and at the same time with relatively low, almost childlike, heels, which give the impression of innocence. Finally looking at myself in the mirror, I nod with satisfaction and proceed to Estley's study.

Lord Cameron is waiting for me, as I arrive at a previously agreed time. As soon as I come in, he stands up from behind the massive desk, where he is reviewing some papers. He greets me with a half-bow, a tribute to etiquette. I in turn curtsey, surreptitiously eyeing either my enemy or my business partner. Cameron Estley looks as immaculate as ever. White shirt, mostly hidden beneath his long purple vest, of a beautiful shade — the purple closer to blue than to red — black coat and matching pants tucked into high jockey boots. Literally, the embodiment of a wet dream for many ladies. A dream that came true for some. However, as a rule, not for a very long period of time.

"Lady Inessa, I'm so happy that you find it possible to descend to my humble abode."

Of course, Cameron Estley would not be Cameron Estley if he didn't start a conversation with an ironic remark, with a completely straight face.

Humble, sure. I could not help but look around the room. So what on earth is exactly modest in here? The furniture, although exclusively functional, but massive, with legs shaped like animal paws, and adorned with exquisite carvings? Or the undoubtedly expensive painting of the three-mast ship? Or maybe the statuette on the mantelpiece, the price of which would purchase a couple of horses? Then again, if he wished he could probably buy the whole herd, without selling anything.

"Sit down," meanwhile, he invites me.

I prefer to remain standing. I take a couple of slow and somewhat hesitant steps in Estley's direction, hands clasped in front of me, and look at him flirtatiously from under my brows.

"Lord Cameron, are you still angry with me for that prank?"

I pout and give the Count a naive and pleading look. I innocently blink a couple of times and, for effect, slightly shake my head. My clips and eyelashes flutter simultaneously.

First Estley looks at me with his usual cold stare, but very quickly I see flecks of laughter in his eyes. He slowly looks me over from head to toe. One could mistake this gesture for that of a man interested in a woman. But I feel as though I can read his thoughts. And almost hear his sarcastic question: "So, how many hours have you spent preparing for this single sentence?" I am not the least bit embarrassed. As many as it takes, since on this first sentence depends the following conversation.

"Nice try" Estley grins. "It did not work, but still, not bad."

I just smile innocently. It did not work my ass! You're smiling, Lord Cameron, which means it worked perfectly. And you can say whatever you please; I do not mind.

"Come on, Lord Cameron, that's not fair," I coyly reproach aloud." As an honorable man, you must forgive me. A generous man must exercise leniency towards women's silliness."

Estley laughs softly.

"What makes you think that I'm an honorable man, or a generous one?" he asks cheerfully. "Sit down." He repeats his invitation; this time backing it up with a nod in the direction of the chair.

"Oh, but if you say you forgive me, I will have a much easier time talking to you," I implore."

"I never promised to make your life easier," responds Estley.

"Really? Oh well," I say.

I finally sit down; smooth out my dress and abruptly change tactics. My face, from which once all signs of coquetry fly, has adopted a no-nonsense expression. I lower my hands on the table and lean slightly forward, making it clear that I don't intend to blabber on, but rather to seize the bull by its horns.

The Count sits in his former place and arches his eyebrows expectantly.

"I'm listening," he says.

"I've come to talk business."

"That is how? I assume it has to do with Lady Almikonte's dowry?"

He has another thing coming.

"Of course not, Lord Cameron." I bare my teeth in a dazzling smile. «With the matter of Lady Almikonte's dowry I will deal myself, without your help."

"Really," My words clearly amuse him. "And would you like to tell me how?"

I shake my head disapprovingly.

"So you can take appropriate countermeasures? I think not. Honestly, Lord Cameron, do you hold such a low opinion of my mental faculties?"

"'... To show leniency to women's silliness,'" he repeats ironically, innocently looking at the ceiling. "You know, I can indulge a woman's silliness. But indulging her intelligence is more difficult. However, I confess, before I thought you were smarter. How did you manage to get involved in this stupid venture with the seal?"

This time he was able to sting me. The rebuke seemed fair, which is why it struck a chord.

"If you really want to know," I say grimly "I was opposed to this plan from the very beginning."

"Nevertheless you took part in it," sarcastically Estley states.

"The service imposes obligations."

I try to hide my own irritation behind a fake smile.

"What obligations?" I do not know whether or the smile playing on Estley's lips is sincere, but it is sure as hell toxic. "To throw yourself at eligible men and kiss them?"

"Well, not at married ones!" I retort reasonably.

"Seems to me," muses Estley, "I wouldn't put it past you."

I am about to become angry, but change my mind, when I realized that the Count is right. If it is necessary for my work, I would do so, and probably without the slightest hint of remorse.

"Let's get down to business," I suggest.

"Let's try."

"But first I have to ask you a question. What do you know about Lady Audrey Stelton?"

"Lady Stelton?" Estley responds to that name without much interest. He silently moves his lips, recalling the information available to him. "Your mistress' youngest lady in waiting. There is nothing in the least significant about her past. An innocent lamb, and frankly speaking, she's nothing special. What about her?"

"Hmmm... What else do you know about her?" I squint. "About her, or for example, about her family?"

Suddenly, a spark of interest appears in Estley's gaze.

"You mean something compromising?" he asks.

"Exactly."

"And who among her relatives are you interested in?"

"Well, for example, her father."

"I gather that you're talking about the dubiousness of his rights to the title of Viscount?"

After confirming his suspicions that I am aware of the situation, he speaks directly.

"I had no doubts that you were familiar with the story" I smile.

The Count winces as if from undeserved praise.

"Lady Inessa, before a person is granted a place in the court of the Duke, a report lands on my desk which contains all their background information. If the information is not public, it does not mean that it is unknown to me."

"And yet you allowed Lady Stelton into the court," I say.

"Why wouldn't I?" He is surprised. "I repeat, the girl is completely harmless. Besides, if I allowed you into the court — I will never forgive myself for that mistake! – then throwing obstacles in her way makes no sense."

Clearly, the last sentence is spoken in a very sarcastic tone.

"And what about the controversy of her descent?"

"Lady Inessa!" reproachfully Estley winces. "That, as you say, controversial origin characterizes at least one third of our nobility. We don't want the palace to become deserted, do we?"

"Good," I nod." Now we can cut to the heart of the matter."

I recount, without unnecessary emotion or adjectives, to Lord Cameron, in a nutshell, what I know about Baron Crown's blackmail and his forced engagement to Audrey.

Estley listens to me with a stony face. It is utterly impossible to understand the Count’s feelings about my story from the expression on his face.

"That's all."

I finish my story and lean back in my chair, waiting for his reaction.

"I suppose you want me to solve the problem with the Baron," Estley states after a short silence.

"I suppose it will not be difficult for you to accomplish," I say. "The main question is how to ensure that he doesn't reveal Audrey's secret."

"Oh, well." Estley drums his fingertips on the tabletop. "Let's assume that I can help you. What will I get in return?"

"Isn't a heartfelt thank you enough?" I beam, naively fluttering my eyelashes.

"No. It's not." With a polite smile, Estley shakes his head.

"And how about," I say forcefully "you stand up for the honor of the Duke's entourage and, therefore, the Duke himself, making sure that the people close to him do not indulge in such nasty behavior?"

"I have an alternative proposal. I will help you, and in return you will persuade Lady Mireya to voluntarily give up the part of her dowry which is necessary to the Duke."

"Not a chance. Lady Mireya would never agree to such terms, and I will not try to dissuade her."

We have a short staring contest — a battle of wills, if you will. Then Estley grins.

"I reckoned you'd say that. Generally speaking, I don't really need your support. I can deal with this issue, regardless. Oh well. I think I'm going to meet you halfway. Showing nobility and – what did you say before? Oh, generosity. I'll solve your friend's problem."

I don’t really consider Audrey a friend, but I do not correct Estley. Currently something else is bothering me. I stare at my interlocutor, trying to determine what insidious plan is brewing behind his mask of honesty.

"Well. We will all be very grateful to you," I say aloud.

"You can send this girl, Lady Stelton, over to me. I will resolve her problem."

"May I ask how you are planning to do that?"

"Are you sure you want to know? However, let's do the following. I will invite you to attend the final stage of the execution."

"Agreed."

Why pretend otherwise? It piques my curiosity.

"Thank you, Lord Cameron." I rise from the chair. "I'll tell Lady Stelton to come over".

I head towards the door, but remember something, and turn around.

"One more question. Yesterday, when Troll lectured Roshen, you were going to say something in response, but then changed your mind. Why is that?"

Estley is a little surprised at my question, but responds forthwith.

"I found it pointless," he shrugs his shoulders. "A man who tries to prove with all his might that he is smarter than everyone else is surely going to expose himself to ridicule without assistance from others."

I bow my head, accepting his answer. Then I leave.

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If you like this book, please consider buying it:

Half a Step Away from Love by Olga Kuno

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