Page 89 of Charmless
I picked up my cup and took a cautious swallow. The tea tasted as heavenly as it smelled, and Delphine was right about it being fortifying. The warmth seemed to rush through my veins, restoring me. Until that moment, I had not realized how drained with exhaustion I was. Perhaps the tea held some magic after all, but of the good kind.
I ventured to try some of the dainty butter and cucumber sandwiches, piling some of the gingerbread on my plate as well. Delphine had cut the dough into the shape of people, the ladies quite demure in their flared skirts. But with her wicked and I might add bawdy sense of humor, she had equipped the gingerbread men with masculine accoutrements including tiny baked balls of dough. Pretending that one was Florian, I viciously bit his head off.
Not having eaten anything since breakfast, I was quite hungry. As I devoured my food, sunlight spilled through a nearby window and glinted off the diamond on my finger.Delphine frowned. She plied a napkin to her lips, wiping away crumbs, before demanding, “Let me see that.”
I was uncertain what she meant until she indicated my ring. I was only too happy to yank off the hated thing and hand it to her. Delphine held the ring up to light, squinting at the diamond, holding it this way at that. She bit down upon the band before tossing the ring contemptuously back down upon the table.
“Fake,” she pronounced. “The diamond is nothing but glass. I doubt the gold is real either. It will probably turn your finger green.” She snorted with contempt. “I don’t mind a bit of wickedness in a fellow. In fact, I rather like it, but I cannot abide a man who is cheap.”
“It could be the costliest diamond in the world, and I wouldn’t want it. I don’t give a frap if the ring is a fake or not.”
“You should. That ring is but one more proof of the prince’s duplicity. Do you really think Florian will honor his word to spare Mal if you marry him?”
“No,” I said. “But if I hadn’t agreed to the wedding, Mal would already be dead.” I summoned up a bleak smile. “By the way, I never thanked you for the hairball.”
“It was my pleasure.” Delphine grinned. But she immediately sobered as she added, “Unfortunately, I cannot cough up one large enough to save either your or Mal from the prince.”
I placed a half-eaten gingerbread man back on my plate, my appetite gone as I remembered my bitter parting from Mal.
“Mal and I had such a dreadful quarrel today,” I said, tears prickling at the back of my eyes. “The last thing I ever said to him was that I never wanted to see him again.”
Delphine sniffed. “I think the last thing I ever said was that I hoped his pizzle would rot and fall off.”
She dashed her hand across her eyes and rapped her knuckles upon the table, saying sternly. “Enough of thesemaudlin regrets. We must work on a plan to break Mal out of that horrible prison.”
“The Dismal Dungeons?” I exclaimed, drying my eyes with my napkin. “Delphine, no one has ever escaped from there. Even if those League friends of Mal were to join us-”
“Those brainless ruffians!” Delphine interrupted me with a scornful snort. “Don’t expect any help from that lot. The word of Mal’s arrest has probably spread all over Misty Bottoms by now. Those rogues are all likely scrambling to save their own skins by disposing of any evidence they were ever in league with Mal.”
As Delphine refilled our teacups, she demanded, “What about your Commander Crushington?”
“Horatio is not mine—” I began.
“Oh please.” Delphine rolled her eyes. “It is obvious the man is besotted with you. Is there nothing he could do to help Mal?”
I considered the idea for a fleeting moment only to reject it with a sad shake of my head.
“But he is a Scutcheon Commander. He could issue a writ demanding that Mal be released into his custody,” Delphine insisted.
“Horatio already tried that when Florian seized Mal. The prince refused.”
“But the commander could forge an official looking document and trick the Warden at Dismal Dungeons into thinking?—”
“No. Mal has broken so many laws, Horatio believes that he deserved to be arrested. Even if Horatio considers incarceration in the Dismal Dungeons too harsh a punishment for anyone, he would not be willing to help Mal escape. Not only would it affront Horatio’s sense of honor as a Scutcheon commander, but it would also be far too great a risk for him to take.”
“Surely, he would if you begged him. Just flutter your lashes like this.” Delphine batted her eyes. “Summon up some tears and bribe him with a kiss or two.”
“I can’t do that, Delphine. I won’t!”
When she glared at me with frustration, I said, “Mal and I have already brought too much trouble down upon Horatio when we stole the orb. I won’t endanger him any further.”
I sucked in my breath. “The orb! I entirely forgot about the orb.”
“That ridiculous bauble.” Delphine sneered. “What of it?”
“The orb is not ridiculous. Everything Mal told me about it was true.” Leaning forward in my chair, I related to her all that I had learned from Withypole at the Winking Goblin.
Delphine listened with her arms crossed, appearing unimpressed. Refusing to be daunted by her skeptical expression, I concluded, “I doubt Mal had time to retrieve the orb before he was ambushed by Florian, and I doubt Horatio was able to look for it either. Not with the prince there. The orb must still be hidden somewhere in the Hawk’s Nest. If we could find it, maybe we could?—”
