The carriage ride to the welcome tea was miserable.
The road was uneven, the wheels jolting over every rut and stone, and by the time the carriage struck another hole, Aurelian’s stomach had begun to protest the journey almost as strongly as he protested the destination.
Across from him, Lady Echo Sinclair appeared entirely unaffected.
She wore pale primrose yellow, the gown soft enough for an afternoon gathering but bright enough to make her impossible to overlook.
White lace trimmed the neckline and sleeves, pearl buttons followed the line of her bodice, and not a single strand of her short black hair seemed to have noticed the condition of the road.
Aurelian envied her.
Echo opened her mouth just as he made the mistake of meeting her eyes.
“If a countess greets you first, what do you do?”
Aurelian swallowed carefully.
“Greet her back?”
Echo stared at him.
“Properly.”
“Right.
Yes.
Of course.” He straightened despite the carriage swaying beneath him.
“I bow, address her by title, thank her for the greeting, and do not ask about the weather unless she does first.”
“Acceptable.”
“Only acceptable?”
“You are in a moving carriage on the way to your first noble gathering, Lord Bellafonte.
Acceptable is a blessing.”
Aurelian looked out the window.
Three days under Echo’s instruction had filled his head with titles, introductions, table manners, fan gestures, family histories, and enough court gossip to make him question how anyone in Evelina found time for ordinary conversation.
He still did not understand the fans.
If a woman liked someone, why would she not simply tell him?
“Lord Bellafonte,” Echo said, “if you remember nothing else today, remember this: do not offend House Vaelmont.”
Aurelian turned back to her.
“I was not planning to offend anyone.”
The name was familiar only because Echo had placed it very high on the list of people he should never accidentally insult.
“House Vaelmont is the queen’s house, yes?” he asked.
“Who rules it again?”
Echo’s expression changed as though she could not decide whether to be horrified or impressed by the question.
“Duchess Seraphina Vaelmont.
Sister to Her Majesty the Queen.
Commander of the royal knights.
Head of the northern great house.” She paused.
“They call her the Moon of the Empire.”
Aurelian frowned.
“That seems like a very lonely title.”
Echo paused.
“Most men would have said beautiful.”
“I am sure she is.” He looked back toward the passing countryside.
“But being compared to the moon sounds cold.
Distant.”
For a moment, Echo only studied him.
Then she sighed.
“Fine.
Last review.”
Aurelian groaned.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I already know everything.”
“You forgot to help me into the carriage this morning.”
“That was one mistake.”
“You called a butler ‘lord’ yesterday.”
“That was yesterday.”
Echo pinched the bridge of her nose.
“Lord Bellafonte, how have you survived twenty-seven years?”
“Excellent health and a strong farming economy.”
She stared at him.
Aurelian offered a hopeful smile.
Echo closed her eyes briefly.
“If a duke speaks to you?”
“I address him properly.”
“If a lady drops her handkerchief?”
“I retrieve it.”
“If someone insults Bellafonte?”
“I politely defend it.”
“If a woman flutters her fan?”
Aurelian frowned.
“Still ridiculous.”
“It is not ridiculous.”
“It is.
If she likes someone, she should tell him.”
“That is not how society works.” Echo looked toward the carriage ceiling as if searching for patience.
“You truly were raised in the wilderness.”
“We have roads.”
The carriage lurched over another rut.
Aurelian went pale.
Echo’s expression softened by a fraction.
“Try not to look as though you are being taken to your execution.
No one is going to execute you.”
“That depends on whether House Vaelmont accepts apologies from country lords.”
Echo laughed.
It was short and startled, as though the sound had escaped before she could stop it.
Aurelian looked at her in surprise.
Before he could comment, the carriage began to slow.
Echo straightened immediately.
“There is no turning back now.”