Lila winked.
Joanna Weberly clenched her little sister’s arm and bared her teeth.
Lila’s mother had not noticed the exchange. She touched Lila’s back and steered her deeper inside the ballroom. “Come, let us find some champagne.”
Once drinks had been procured off the ubiquitous silver-trayed and tuxedoed servants, the chairwoman installed herself on a leather chair in a nook far away from the entrance. It was the first time Lila had ever seen her mother sit at a Closing Ball.
“I assumed you’d have us seated right before the entrance. That way you could offer your opinion of each man as he was announced,” Lila said, sitting beside her mother. She laid her rose upon the armrest.
“How tedious. I have no interest in sitting through the introductions of so many heirs and senators who have no potential. Eligible men of quality will flutter around us, waiting to be introduced. I will let you know my opinions then.”
“Not in front of them, I hope.”
The chairwoman ignored her. “It’s a pity that I did not force you to attend more of these. It would be easier if you knew more of the senators, but perhaps it’s better that you aren’t swayed by years of friendship and feelings. It’s better to rely on practicality in these matters.”
“Yes, sex and breeding through practicality,” Lila said, and sipped her champagne, knowing she’d need another soon.
“At least you’ve retained your judge’s position in New Bristol. Have you had your eye on a New Bristol senator, by any chance? Perhaps a promising young man who would benefit from your direction?”
Lila took another long drink. Every senator was well groomed, fashionable, and handsome, trained from a young age to attend to their dress and body as much as their minds. The New Bristol senators were among the best of the lot. Although she did enjoy looking at the pretty way they moved and spoke, she had only ever lumped them into two categories: those who could help her with the hospital and those who were massive pains in her backside. She had never wanted to confuse the two categories by making pains of her allies or turning her allies into pains. As such, she’d never entertained any sort of relationship with New Bristol senators at all, except as professional and platonic friends.
She did dabble occasionally with senators from Saxony or other large cities in the region, though usually off season and only to pacify her mother. She typically saved conquests for the occasional rake among the highborn. Once or twice a year, she chose a few particularly irresponsible highborn males, those with good humor and adventurous spirits, and spent a few months indulging, every single night. She was like a sexual camel, powering herself up for another trek across the desert.
That had been before Tristan, though. As she thought back, she realized it had been years since she’d dallied with anyone. She barely knew who had been elected to which city anymore.
Lila swallowed a lump in her throat and tried not to think of whom she’d rather be with, not that it mattered. Everything she’d said earlier had been correct. She and Tristan would never work, not even if she remained chief.
She bit her lip. Hard. She didn’t have time to let her feelings dribble down her cheeks again, nor could she ever let anyone in this room see or suspect her feelings.
She’d already cried enough for him, far more than was proper.
“The time you spent as chief of security was not completely wasted,” the chairwoman said. “Every woman here is trying to figure out what you and I are playing at tonight. Perhaps you’re only here to take a lover, or perhaps there is more afoot. They’ve all wondered why you never formally accepted a role as heir.”
“Perhaps they thought I was defective.”
“Nonsense. You are a Randolph. Randolphs aren’t defective.”
Lila sipped her champagne and did not reply.
“The giant in the middle of the room is Senator Edward Serrano,” her mother explained, inclining her head toward a large figure who neatly gripped the lapels of his coat. The senator surveyed the room with a lazy, confident eye.
He was not a panther in his hunt but a drunken boar.
“I know of him. He’s a state senator and the eldest son of Chairwoman Blanc.”
Her mother nodded. “He’s fathered at least a dozen girls and seven boys throughout the highborn families of New Bristol; that’s not even counting his lowborn children. His aim is to become the prime minister one day. Rumor is he’ll be in Unity next year.”
That didn’t surprise Lila. City senators longed to serve in the capitol. Senators in New Bristol wanted to serve Saxony. Those working for Saxony strived for Unity, and those in Unity curried favor to become prime minister.
And the prime minister longed for a seat on the Allied Council.
“He’s virile and well connected, but he’s not a good match for us,” her mother said.
“Don’t you mean me?”
“I meant the family.”
“I thought you wanted someone well connected for your grandchild’s father. You wanted it for me. A well-connected senator has his uses, as does a prime minister.”