The next morning, Richard sent a note to Gloria requesting a meeting at her family’s home that evening. She would appreciate the formal ritual of Richard’s abasement.
He dressed carefully, unsurprised to find his hands shaking. Phillipa promised to come to work. No, she simply smiled. Except she wouldn’t have smiled if she didn’t intend to come. Sure, but she's had an entire evening to reconsider.
Richard might arrive at the office to find a message that Phillipa was ill, that she had tendered her resignation, that she was applying—as soon as possible—for a position at the museum.
He tied his cravat with lingering attention, ate breakfast with minute concentration. Nearing the moment when he usually departed for work, he began to rush, pulling on his coat, bundling papers into his satchel. He was breathing rapidly when he shot through the front door to stand on the front stoop. He began walking but found a hack at the first opportunity. The sooner he got to work, the sooner he would know whether Phillipa was coming, whether she could bear to see Richard again.
She was sitting at the largest table in the office, studying the Pellon blueprints. She looked up with a wary smile, eyes a dark smudge—she hadn’t slept well either. Richard slumped in the doorway.
“Hullo, Phillipa.”
“Hullo.” She hesitated, then stood. “Phillip,” she reminded him quietly.
Richard glanced back into the hall. No one was about. At this time in the morning, Government House was a sleeping hive. But he stepped into the office and shut the door.
He meant to apologize again; remembering Lord Simon’s derisive laughter over Richard's weak regrets, he said instead, “When did you become Phillip?” It was a question he’d wanted to ask for months.
“Oh.” She was surprised but not offended. She sank back onto her stool, legs curled around the legs. Richard lowered himself to the edge of the nearest couch.
“My family is from Thewsbury, near the border.”
Richard nodded; he’d recognized the Northern lilt in her voice.
“Logging. Mining. My father always intended us, my four siblings and me, to escape that life. My oldest sister got a position in Ennance working for a Svetian diplomat. That made my father’s dream possible.”
“You’ve had schooling.”
“At a Svetian university. My father wanted me to stay—there are more opportunities in Svetland for women. But my academic focus was Roesia, so I came here. What I earn will help my younger siblings prosper.”
Richard nodded. They weren’t so dissimilar. One hand washes another; one more rung up the ladder helps the next family member to climb.
“Your father will get his wish.”
“He’s very proud. He knows about—” she gestured to her hair and clothes. “He thinks it’s clever to outwit Kingston bureaucrats.”
Richard grinned. “Like me.”
“He would respect you,” she said quickly.
“Even after I—after what happened?”
“We can figure this out.”
“I went to see Lord Simon.”
“Did he—?” She waved a hand, one finger brushing her lower lip.
Richard forced himself to look away. Phillipa cleared her throat.
Richard said, “He claims he didn’t. He says it won’t happen again. The spell, that is—” Richard faltered. “Lord Simon offered to find the bespeller,” he added quickly.
