The Golden Duchess (#3 in the GOLDEN series)

•T H I R T Y - E I G H T•

The blonde sat beside Julia and rubbed her upper arm, but focused on Céleste. "You received your invitation? That is why you are here? I assume you want advice on gowns, shoes, hair, since your Duchess is too busy to help, I bet."

Céleste disliked the way Charlotte said Duchess, her lips pinching and her nostrils flaring as if disgusted. "Indeed, that is why I am here. For advice."

"Here is my advice: do not develop feelings for anyone!" Julia whimpered, her hands shaking so much tea splashed from her cup and into her lap; but she didn't appear to care. "He did not tell me he was leaving! How does one forget to mention to the woman they are courting that they are going home?"

Céleste fought her body's initial reaction to slouch, to seek somewhere to hide so no one would see the worry working across her face. Charlotte surely knew the same as she did, but Julia didn't. And distraught as she was, she wouldn't be kind if she realized everyone realized the truth but her.

"Julia," Charlotte took the mug from her, "calm down."

"No!" The raven-haired maiden lurched up, knocking Charlotte sideways. She marched over to the curtained window, grabbing at the fabric and releasing little breaths as she stomped. "He—did—not—tell me!" With each word she yanked on the drapes, threatening to pull them from their hinges. "I thought we... we were..."

Charlotte, holding out the teacup to stop it from splashing all over her, glared at Céleste. "Some help please? If you cannot assist me in consoling her, then you may leave!"

Céleste wanted to flee, but she'd come with a purpose; so, pressing down on her abdomen, she hurried to Julia and took the curtains from her grasp.

"Relax. Getting worked up is not good for a lady."

With a huff, Julia peeked at Céleste, her long lashes coated with tears, her eyes bloodshot and glazed. "You were not aware, right? Ahead of everyone else? Your fiancé is a Prince, he must have known."

"No, of course not." Céleste bit her tongue before she spilled out what she did know. "But it is a misunderstanding, no? He must have sent word and you missed it. Or he means to justify all this soon—"

A swipe of magenta reached from Julia's chin to her temples. "No! He has had days to explain, and has two more to find me to do so, but he will not, will he?" She swerved past Céleste and perched before Charlotte. "And your Prince? Did he say anything? Does he understand why this foreign royal courting me refuses to speak with me, answer my notes, have a single spot of tea with me? And why is he leaving?" She sniffled, her legs shaking beneath her voluminous skirts. "What did I do to displease him?"

Charlotte set the cup on the floor and yanked Julia to sit beside her. "You are taking this too far." Julia nestled into her shoulder, and Charlotte rolled her eyes and yawned. "You did nothing wrong."

Appalled at Charlotte's behavior, Céleste clamped her mouth shut and anchored herself to her spot by the draperies, refraining from storming over to slap her.

She does not care one bit that Julia is in distress!

"He is leaving. My King. We were supposed to... to..."

"Yes, you were." Charlotte brushed her fingers through Julia's hair. "And I promise you I had no idea. Jules said nothing. You are my dearest friend." Céleste held in a snort. "I would never conceal such a fact from you!"

Witnessing Charlotte's attitude, Céleste sensed her insides boil. She'd been keeping things from Julia for a while, it was clear. Holding onto truths she feared her friend wouldn't accept. But Charlotte's lies affected Julia's future. Would Julia forgive her if she ever found out? Especially with Charlotte's notable jealousies and cruel words from not that long ago...

This is something I must report—Charlotte is flimsy. Untrustworthy.

Julia groaned as her head tumbled onto her thighs, and Charlotte wrapped her arms around the girl's middle, rocking her. There was still not a trace of sympathy in her features, only a hint of boredom and impatience as she crinkled her nose and filled her cheeks with air.

Disgust disturbed Céleste's belly as she watched them. Julia on the verge of unleashing waterfalls from her eyes, and Charlotte fake-reassuring her, but clearly uninterested in her friend's agony.

It wasn't Céleste's place to speak up, though she yearned to tell Julia the truth, if only to put Charlotte in a delicate position. But Charlotte would deny it all, wouldn't she?

She is a selfish, scandal-loving snake... but I do not think she has involvement in Clémentine's plots.

***

Céleste eventually excused herself and rushed to her chambers to sit at her vanity. She extracted parchment and quill, and scribbled a hasty letter to Sébastien, requesting to meet with him for tea as soon as possible. She should have notified Marguerite of her visit's discoveries first, but Sébastien was the one who'd asked her to befriend Charlotte.

She hunted down a page boy and begged him to be discreet when delivering the message.

While she waited, she couldn't sit still. Charlotte's demeanor ignited a flame of concern within her. She didn't think the girl had any ties to the Dowager and her sordid schemes, but who was she allied with, then? Did she work alone, seeking to join royalty for her own goals? Did she care for Prince Jules?

She punched into her palm. The more she got involved, the more she comprehended how many people had plots of their own. Destructive ideas to ruin futures and get ahead by all means possible.

Thinking of that reminded her of a person she saw as central to it all.

Romain...

Vile man. Judgmental, chaotic, spreading discord among the Totresian royals. Accusing Kings of murder, keeping his true agenda and allegiances hidden. Pointing fingers, unearthing conspiracies, and potentially still circling Marguerite.

"Oh... no. No..." Her nails dug into her bare palms. "He wanted revenge..." She gasped when her nails broke through her skin. "Would he take Antoine as a hostage? Assassinate Sébastien? Torture Jules, force Cordelia to marry him? Or capture Marguerite?" She squealed as she stretched out her fingers, her hand throbbing. "That would be true revenge. It would infuriate Antoine. Son of the man Romain believes assassinated his father..."

She kicked at a pair of shoes near her armoire. There she was, theorizing. Coming up with insane thoughts like Marguerite always did. But not seeing anything any clearer.

Making the sign of the cross, she lowered to her knees, glaring at her door. Torrinni Castle was a sticky web full of sneaky, poisonous spiders. How relieved she was that her family wasn't there to become stuck in it. Sir Richel was in Valeville, where he preferred to be. Emeric traveled with Esther, hopefully unaffected by anything happening at court. What would they do if they discovered their beloved King Edouard, the prosperous, peaceful, revered monarch might have been a killer?

"They would be red with anger and break off my engagement with Sébastien!"

She clasped her hands inprayer and peeped at the ceiling, begging the Heavens above to ensure herfather and brother never stumbled across Romain's rumors.

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