Chapter Twelve

The language, aside from the initial address and opening statement, was dense legalese. Mira could tell, in her brief skim, that most of the agreement had to do with property and custodial arrangements for future children. These ‘welcome letters’ were apparently a marriage agreement and a pre-nup, all in one. In this case, the letter stated that all of Mira’s bridal properties and personal wealth would be absorbed by the Duvall estate in trust for her future children, including any future gifts and entitlements she received from her birth family. She hadn’t read that far, but Mira assumed that there was also a clause to ensure that she’d also have no rights to those hypothetical children in the event that she ever separated from her husband.

On the bright side, this situation had given Mira a useful insight into the level of feminine enfranchisement enjoyed by this country. In her experience, humans swung between horrific patriarchy and not really seeing a big difference between the sexes. She’d been hopeful because the world of ‘Lost Daughter’ seemed to lean towards the latter and this letter here was yet more proof. If a woman’s property automatically reverted to her husband then Reginald wouldn’t have needed to craft their marriage agreement this way in order to steal it.

However the Duvalls had found out about Mira’s situation, they must also have learned about her personal property. The letter she held in her hand was nothing less than outright legal theft, aimed at stripping Mira of not only everything she had, but also anything she ever got in the future.

Fortunately, there was a place at the bottom for her signature and a thumbprint that was charged with magic intense enough that Mira didn’t even need to try and sense it out. That meant the letter wasn’t legally binding unless she agreed to the union.

Mira was saved from having to laugh in Reginald’s face by the front door opening.

Vesper stepped into the room and there was a moment in-between when she saw Mira and Cecily waiting for her and when she laid eyes on Reginald where a faint sense of happiness blossomed and then evaporated in her eyes.

“I was unaware that we were expecting a guest,” Vesper said in a voice that felt about as warm and welcoming as a winter’s morning. She flicked open the buttons on her coat and handed it to the young woman who’d followed her in carrying a leather documents case. The woman was wearing a smart blue and black uniform dress with a silver star on the right breast. “My household is currently closed to visitors. Please state your business here.”

Reginald’s color, already not good, got worse as he clocked Vesper and realized that Mira wasn’t as unprotected as she’d seemed at first. He stood and then paused just short of fully upright when no one else rose to greet Vesper. There was no way he didn’t know who she was. Their father was a major political figure and Vesper was his heir. Mira had to assume that had been a fairly public spectacle. However, he scraped together the gumption to school his features and lean into his lie, “I am Reginald Duvall and I am here on behalf of your lord father, Lady Coventry. He asked my father to invite Miss Priestly into our family as my bride in the wake of her recent disappointment. Where the Fenbys failed you, the Duvalls stand ready.”

He started to ease back down into his seat as he spoke, but Vesper stopped him dead. “I did not invite you to sit,” she snapped and then looked him over. Her expression made it clear she was not impressed with what she saw.

“How interesting that my father discussed the matter with a distant acquaintance before his sole heir,” Vesper said as she unpinned her hat and handed it to her nearest aid. Suddenly, Mira could see why Vesper was the Crown Princess’s trusted right hand. Vesper wasn’t even angry with her and Mira still felt like she should be watching her every move right now. Vesper came over and took the corner of the document in between her two gloved fingers, “Violet, dear, may I review your letter for you?”

“Now, I hardly think that’s nec…” Reginald abruptly stopped speaking when Vesper’s assistant stepped in between them with an expression that dared him to keep talking.

Mira handed the letter over without comment and Vesper took her time reading it. Then she looked at Reginald one more time as she folded the pristine paper in half and Mira felt the magic embedded in the sheet disperse. “The terms in this letter are unacceptable. I would not permit my sister to sign this even if you were here with our father’s blessing. Miss Park, please escort him out.”

“With respect,” Reginald said through gritted teeth as he avoided Vesper’s assistant when she attempted to take him by the arm. “That’s not your decision to make. The Coventries released Miss Priestly from your family register. Who she marries is solely her decision and I think she is a dutiful woman who will obey her parents’ will. Isn’t that right, Violet?” He directed that last bit to Mira.

It was tempting, once again, to laugh in his face. Did he really think that their short exchange earlier was enough to convince her to throw her only guardian over in his favor? How desperate for a wedding did he think she was? It was tempting to give him an idea of who he was really dealing with, but Mira’s host had not been that type of person and Mira wasn’t ready to risk combat magic in this fragile body. So instead, Mira looked woefully up at her sister. “I would never consider anyone who doesn’t have my older sister’s blessing,” she said demurely. “I’ll listen to your guidance, Vesper, of course.”

Vesper laid a hand on Mira’s shoulder with a complicated expression that morphed into distaste when she refocused her attention on Reginald. “You have your answer, sir.”

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

He wasn’t done, though, and started forward towards Mira like he wanted to grasp her hands. “Miss Violet, you can’t cast me aside this cruelly…!” he was cut off by a man that Mira hadn’t even seen come into the room. He must have come in behind Vesper and Miss Park, but Mira recognized him at once.

Unlike Reginald, he wore his pale, white-blonde hair in a low tail that draped over his left shoulder except for a shorter bit in front that framed his aristocratic face and sleepy red eyes. His expression was schooled into a placid smile at total odds with the double wrist lock he had Reginald bent over and pinned into.

“The ladies have asked you to leave. A gentleman always obliges a lady,” Colvin Adelram informed Reginald as he wrenched his victim upright without any visible effort. “Please accompany me to the hall. Miss Park will bring your coat and hat.” To Vesper, he gave a respectful nod. “Let me deal with this matter, Lady Coventry. I trust we can still discuss matters upon my return?”

Between Colvin and Miss Park, Reginald was wrestled into the hallway and the last Mira saw of him was his bone white face as the door closed between them. She couldn’t help it. She gave him one last smile and a bitchy little wave just as he disappeared from view.

Idiot.

The core art of Grift was knowing when to ditch the con. He should have excused himself the second Vesper came home, but he’d tried to power through instead. She hoped he landed in a puddle when they threw him out.