Page 24 of My Fae Lady

“What did your letter say?” I prompted, reminding her that she had already organized these thoughts once before—she only had to recall what she had written.

“Your cousin convinced Judge Matherson to take on the presumption of death case for your father.” Caro closed her eyes, and I had the impression she was picturing the letter she had written so she could now read it back. “Matherson is known to favor human parties over fae, so it is all but guaranteed that Lord Douglas will win the case.”

“Disappointing, but not unexpected.” There had to be more—Caro wouldn’t have rushed to Isthmuston just to tell me that the judge would do exactly what we had already expected the judge would do. “That is why Sylvan is here. It doesn’t matter if Father is declared dead if I’ve already claimed my dowry.”

“But you must claim it before the estate goes to your cousin, or he can argue that he never signed any documents granting you Rook Manor as your dowry.”

“Which is why I will go to Mr. Hilferty tomorrow. We’ll be married by the day after, assuming we can convince him to help, and in Windonbury by the end of the week.”

“But that’s what I’m trying to tell you. You don’t have until the end of the week.”

“Why not?” Sylvan tapped a clawed finger against his knee, the only sign of his impatience with Caro’s roundabout manner of delivering news.

The words exploded out of Caro in a torrent. “Douglas bribed Judge Matherson to move up the date by three days. You need to leave tonight if you are to make it in time.”

A strange calmness came over me. It was the same state that had me draping myself with blackberry brambles and making my way into Gremyl Woods within hours of reading Caro’s letter the week before. Rook Manor was at risk. I didn’t have time to panic.

I stood and smoothed my skirts, ignoring the wide-eyed looks both my friend and fiancé gave me. “We’ll have to convince Mr. Hilferty today.” I glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantle. It was practically the dinner hour already. “Tonight. He has enough influence to get us married before we ride for Windonbury. You might need to stand as one of our witnesses, Caro.”

“Of course, but you can’t truly mean to—”

I cut Caro off. “I certainly can. You are the one who looked into all my options before. You said it yourself: I have to be married before Douglas gets his hands on the title, and I need to present the evidence to the judge before he gives Rook Manor to my cousin, muddying everything further. Unless you’ve uncovered some other solution?”

“No, but—”

“Then I have to marry today. Sylvan, the tailor should be sending the most critical items of your new wardrobe soon. You must change into your new suit the moment it arrives.” Thank the goddesses the tailors in Isthmuston weren’t as busy as in Windonbury and I had paid the exorbitant fee to secure them quickly. “Caro, may I prevail upon you to deliver a message to Mr. Hilferty, inviting him to dine with me and my fiancé at the hotel this evening?”

“Of course. But I want to have a word with you in private before you go through with this, Giselle.”

“After we’ve made the arrangements, please?” If she really had a reason I shouldn’t marry Sylvan today, we could call everything off, but I doubted that would be the case. Caro had been the one to lay out the perfectly logical course of action that had led to me tracking down Sylvan and bargaining with him. She might not approve of the fact that I had found my groom in an ash tree, but to keep Rook Manor, I’d put up with worse than Sylvan.

Although, the Unseelie wasn’t as unpleasant to be around as I had originally feared.

⊱❀⊰

I took my time getting ready. After all, I was dressing for my wedding. Not that I had grand dreams of what such a momentous day should look like. I hadn’t thought of marriage in relation to myself in decades. But there might have been a time in my youth when I had imagined the event.

The gown I’d once daydreamed about was a century out of fashion, and wearing a ballgown to dinner in the hotel would not be appropriate. But I could at least change into my favorite evening gown.

The gown was a light indigo that complimented my eyes perfectly—when I wasn’t overcome by strong emotions—and overlaid with delicate, white Kinuvian lace. If I had to marry an Unseelie fae on short notice with only Caro to represent all my friends and family, then at least I’d do so in the most fashionably flattering way possible.

I adjusted the matching hat—since we’d be traveling to the courthouse if all went well—so it sat at the perfect angle and exited my suite. I had told Sylvan I’d meet him in the lobby after changing, so we’d know the instant the first of his clothes arrived. The tailor had promised to send at least one proper outfit before supper. While Sylvan dressed, I could let Caro have her private word with me, then it would be time to meet Mr. Hilferty in the dining room.

Sylvan was pacing back and forth in front of the windows overlooking the street. He had changed. Even though the suit hadn’t arrived yet, he had pulled on the shirt that hadn’t needed alterations and looped the cravat around his neck in a haphazard fashion. It was an interesting choice combined with the knickerbockers that were all House had been able to find in his size. The outfit was all wrong, and yet . . .

He looked more real than he had at the tailor’s shop decked out like a gentleman. Especially pacing as he was. When he moved, it was clear that there was power under the fine wool and silk. Sylvan wouldn’t falter sweeping a woman off her feet. Not that he was the type to do such a thing.

I’d have to help him dress properly once his suit arrived, as he clearly couldn’t manage on his own, but it was a shame I couldn’t loose him on the gentry of Windonbury like this. They wouldn’t know how to react.

He spotted me when I was halfway down the steps, at which point he pivoted for another trek across the lobby, then jerked to a standstill. Smirking just a little bit, I finished my descent. This was the first time Sylvan had truly seen me at my best, not in my comfortable clothes at home or disheveled from travel. It was only right that the sight stopped him dead.

His gaze roved over me as I moved closer, then he shook his head. “Are you really attending our wedding with a dozen dead animals stuck in your hair?”

I took back every complimentary thought I had ever had about him. Then I called up the bitingly polite tone I had learned at my mother’s knee. “It is a hat with a few ostrich feathers.”

Sylvan scoffed. “You and I have very different opinions on the definition of a few.”

A proper lady would not engage. But as always seemed to happen around the vexing Unseelie, I forgot about being proper. With him, I repaid every insult with one of my own. And I refused to look too closely at the fact that our conversations were far more enthralling than the “proper” exchanges I engaged in with gentlemen that always left me bored to tears.