Woes Of A Villainess

12. Winter

Spring sunshine was truly something that could not be beaten in regard to being the perfect accompaniment to a sweet floral tea blend. The sweet spot of the season in which the rain showers began to subside and the flowers were just starting to come to life again made the perfect backdrop for an outdoor tea... while planning how to overthrow a prince.

With the staff too busy with other matters to supervise two kids chatting, Arabella and Alistair had made themselves comfortable at a table in the garden. Arabella's eyes flowed between each newspaper title laid out across the table, each one from a variety of companies and the majority of which she squinted her eyes at, finding no familiarity in the names.

"That's because the papers you read are probably all made for the aristocracy," Alistair answered her question while flipping through one of his own. He then raised a brow at her. "Do you think everyday people care about which daughter is marrying which Duke? Or what Viscount is going through which divorce?" Finally, he tapped at one of the papers left on the table, disapprovingly. "It's all just mere puff. Nothing that's of use to us."

Arabella frowned in thought and let her eyes follow the article he was referencing. Seeing it now, she remembered that incident as Viscount Fitzwilliam's 3rd divorce. An old man with far too much money and a taste for women much younger than him. Her nose scrunched unconsciously in disgust. But if she remembered correctly, with divorce number 3 out of the way, that would make way for wife number 4, the one who finally outlived the old pervert and took him for all he was worth: Harriett Fitzwilliam.

She filed that tidbit in her memory right next to her information about Yvette Salvatore in information to follow up at a later date.

In the meantime, she brushed Alistair's hand away from the paper and pointed at it herself, "Maybe so. But for someone aiming for the very top of the food chain, you're very dismissive of the aristocracy. Those on the royal council whose votes we're hoping to win are part of it." To prove her point, Arabella dug through the pile of papers to find some pages that had caught her eye earlier, listing aloud as she flipped through. "Duke Salvatore, Viscountess Hawthorne, Duchess Kane, Marquess Powell, Duke Berbrook..." And to solidify her point she slapped the newspaper in front of him. "Just like that, their names are at least mentioned. Don't dismiss the power of gossip. Slowly winning their favour over the years by relying on the information is the safest bet."

Alistair's expression held no room for convincing, "Playing it safe is what led to that other timeline..." He furrowed his light brows. "I'll never play it safe again."

Grimacing, Arabella came to the realisation that getting along with Alistair would be more difficult than she first anticipated. Judging by his reckless actions on the ship, he was serious about never playing it safe, "Has no one told you about what happens when you fly too close to the sun?"

Noting her grimace, Alistair laughed slightly to lighten the mood, shining her a charming smile, "Haha, don't give me that look. Has no one told you that fortune favours the bold? Flying at all is a better outcome than staying rooted to the ground forever." Arabella's clear lack of amusement, caused him to laugh awkwardly before regaining his composure. Brushing a hand through his white locks, his eyes turned much more mischievous. "Anyway, You want information? I have a sense I know where to find it. And it would prove much more valuable than anything these gossip columns could provide."

He leaned in closer across the table, as though there was anyone here who could possibly hear him and hushed his voice, not breaking eye contact for a second, "Have you heard the name, 'Winter', before?"

Cautious but intrigued, Arabella quirked a brow, "...I don't believe so." Inside she questioned if that was even a name. Was he making things up?

"I wouldn't have expected you to," Alistair sat back down on his seat. "She's an information broker. No one knows her real name, even those that she chooses to deal with. And believe me, she is very 'choosy'."