“Jewel will come in a second car,” the chairwoman explained, marching toward the door in her elegant silvercoat. Where Lila’s cut was clean and tailored, her mother’s was loose and flowing and regal, as was her dress underneath. Two pearls dangled from her ears. “She and Senator Dubois are attending a dinner at the Massons.”
“Good, you and Pax ate together, then.”
A footman opened the front door. The pair descended the front staircase, the sun setting below the clouds as they walked.
“I know he must have enjoyed it,” Lila said.
“I wouldn’t know. He spent most of his time talking about his studies and the hospital.”
“His tutor has been pleased with his progress this year.”
“Yes, Ms. Beaumont keeps me updated. If he continues to work hard and can get over his shyness, he’ll be an asset to Wolf Industries. He might not be a senator, but if we can make a passable orator out of him, then I’m sure he’ll be instrumental in smoothing out many partnerships in the coming years.”
“It’s not just shyness, Mother. It’s grief. He doesn’t want to be an asset, anyway. You know what he wants.”
“Let’s not argue about Pax tonight.”
A crimson limo purred at the bottom of the steps.
One limo. Not two.
“Did Commander Sutton approve this?” Lila asked.
“She wanted us to go in separate limos,” her mother scoffed as they approached the car. “Randolphs do not change plans because—”
“Do you want to get shot instead of me?”
“We would look weak and afraid, Lila. Highborn do not wilt. Commander Sutton has things well in hand. If she doesn’t, she won’t earn that promotion you’re holding over her head.”
“I’m not holding it over her head,” Lila muttered, crawling into the limo. She had no intention of debating the issue while they stood out in the open, not with her mother so close.
“Why aren’t you? It’s a perfect opportunity to—”
“Not tonight, Mother. Get in the car.”
Lila’s clutch vibrated. She retrieved her palm and settled into her seat.
Pick an intelligent senator, her father had written. I want my grandchild to be smart.
The chairwoman watched her expression. “Commander Sutton wants to put a guard on you during the ball.”
“I’m sure she does, and I’m sure she knows my reply. I have no interest in being followed by a looming shadow.”
The chairwoman pursed her lips. “You are prime once more, Elizabeth. You have to take your safety more seriously—”
“Said the woman who refused to go in two limos.”
“Don’t be petulant. Contact Commander Sutton and tell her you have reconsidered.”
“No, a guard would spoil my libido.”
The chairwoman seemed poised to say more, but thankfully closed her mouth.
“Pax should return to school at some point,” Lila said, wrangling the conversation back where it should have stayed. “If he’s going to make himself into a doctor, he’ll need the push to return. You wouldn’t have let me linger in such a mood.”
“Quite right, Lila,” the chairwoman said, her gloved fingers clenched in her lap. She said nothing in response to the idea of her son becoming a doctor as the limo crawled toward the gates of Bullstow.
A hundred protestors in drab workborn coats surrounded both sides of the gate, pacing and chanting behind flimsy stanchions. They carried homemade signs and shouted “Where is the boy?” at each limo as it rolled past. Some had scrawled Justice for Oskar in fat block letters. Others had written Bullstow? Bullshit! or Down with Highborn Slavers. Quite a few had donned red bands around their upper arms.