Page 8 of The Unseen Hour

Thomas began regaling us with tales of the golden-sand deserts of Mejje and the buildings constructed in such a way that people stayed cool even on the hottest of days.

One thing that was once better, not in my mother’s time but a couple of generations prior, was travel. Families would cross the seas and couples might take trips together. After the Unseen Hour began, however, people feared travel delays and being caught unaware.

A few years after the Unseen Hour began in Emrys, it spread. First Mejje, then Tang, and finally the islands of Sez had been hit. The lost country, farther even than Tang, no doubt felt the sting of the hour too, if any individual in fact still lived in the wilderness of its abandoned lands. The other nations saw the hour as a curse Emrys had inflicted upon them, and relations had been strained since, which only added to the difficulty of travel.

Charlotte nudged me, and I realized I’d been scowling with my arms crossed. I fixed my posture and face before anyone in my family could see me—and hopefully any others who might twist even the smallest look into gossip about a romance gone bad or some equally ridiculous nonsense. I viewed Thomas and Charlotte in the same way I viewed my three siblings, and I had no desire to fuel suspicions that Thomas and I were embroiled in some sort of affair. As much as I enjoyed his company, I felt nothing toward him in that way. If I was to marry, I wanted to long for someone. Ache for them with the same desire I felt for real adventure, or at least the way Holmes described such travels.

When I lay eyes on the waves, it’s as if they carry my heart along with them, pulling me out to sea and whatever awaits beyond.

I’d memorized an embarrassing portion of the entries, and I wanted my heart pulled by a man the way Holmes’s had been by the sea.

Charlotte snapped open her fan, blocking our faces from the crowd and bringing me back to the moment.

“It may interest you to know, brother, that I actually do have news that is more pressing than yours. It pertains to you, Celia. Your mother and mine were speaking. She says this is the year she’s determined to find you a suitable husband. You and at least one of ‘those mischievous sons of mine,’ in her words. You’d best be watchful.”

I froze. The music in the ballroom became an annoying buzz in the background, and I reached up and tugged on my bodice. The dress was still too tight after all.

“I didn’t want to distress you”—Charlotte chewed at her lip—“I just wanted you to be aware.”

I flashed her a small smile.

“Yes. I appreciate it Charlotte, truly. I just need some time to … oh, Bellamy is making his way over again. I can’t handle another dance with him. Not now.”

Thomas held out his hand and bowed.

“Allow me to help.”

It would lead to gossip, because the three of us were already so often in each other’s company, but at the moment I didn’t care.

I was in no state to make inane conversation with potential suitors. Thomas wouldn’t require conversation at all.

While we spun around the dance floor, I plotted.

I’d ask to ride in the carriage home with my mother and find out just how serious she was about this marriage plan.

Then, either way, I would ignore her and double down on my efforts to go after my father. If I brought him back, marrying me off would be the last thing on anyone’s mind.

CHAPTER 6

Normally at these sorts of events, I looked forward to the end of the evening. While I enjoyed seeing Charlotte, Thomas, and a select other few individuals, I enjoyed getting away from the pack of marriage-obsessed mothers and suitors even more.

I was also firmly of the belief that being able to get rid of a corset and constrictive dress was perhaps the best part of any evening.

In this instance, however, I’d put myself in the lion’s den. My mother, Vinia, smiled at me from across the carriage, and I awaited her commentary on the evening. She’d looked so pleasantly surprised when I requested we ride home together that I felt a tad guilty, until I saw her eyeing every gentleman I danced with before we left the ball.

“Lord Huberts was admiring you this evening,” she started.

I sighed.

“Mother, Thomas and I are friends. Just as Charlotte and I are friends.”

With a frown, my mother sat back in the carriage; but she rallied within seconds, leaning forward again.

“What about the Marquess of Umpert? I saw that he danced with you this evening. His properties are small but lovely. His estate to the northeast has that charming lake.”

I made a noncommittal noise in the back of my throat. The estate my mother referenced was far outside the capital and near the coldest region of Emrys. Worse, Bellamy Bonds was the Marquess, and I could only imagine being stuck on a dreary estate with nothing to do and no one but him and his staff for company.

Plus, his lands were just about as far from my family as I could be. As annoying as Mother’s prodding sometimes was, I had fond memories of growing up at Scops. Family walks through the woods. Riding together. Lawn games, even though I rarely won, with laughter and joking. Back before my mother had disappeared into her grief and then re-emerged with nothing to occupy her but high society.