Rules for Thieves Page 15

  The man chuckles suddenly. “I’m afraid she’s right, young sir. The Dearborns have been letting any old riffraff in this year. This is nothing compared to the Sheffields’.”

  Beck fakes a sigh. “I suppose I’ll have to concede defeat, then. But thank you, sir, for putting an end to our argument.”

  The man frowns, almost sheepish. I have a feeling he’s done something improper by jumping into our conversation. He quickly extends one hand to Beck. “Sir Marius Drozzen at your service, young sir.”

  Beck shakes his hand quickly. “Master Berkeley Martell,” he says without missing a beat. “Allow me to introduce my cousin, Miss Allianna Martell.”

  Drozzen bobs a quick bow to both of us. “Honored to make your acquaintance.” He rushes through it like he’s just following propriety. “Enjoying the evening, then?”

  “We are,” Beck says, “but I’m afraid we don’t have many acquaintances in attendance tonight. . . .”

  Oh. I get where he’s going with this.

  “What a shame!” Drozzen cries. “For two such lovely young people! Do allow me to introduce you to someone. I’m sure there are some other young people here—”

  Before we can say anything, Drozzen’s moving, away from the wall and toward the packed floor where, during a lull in the music, the crowd mills around.

  Beck barely hides his wince. We don’t want to meet young people, especially since people our age will probably notice we’re imposters. Besides, we want to be introduced to people who know Lady Atherton.

  But it’s too late to sneak away. Drozzen’s found a cluster of kids close to our age, and he’s turning back to us, gesturing. Exchanging hesitant glances, we step forward.

  Drozzen’s already introducing us. “Master and Miss Martell, may I introduce Masters Abbott and Touzel, and Miss Ariannorah Atherton.”

  Atherton. My body tenses involuntarily at the name. Do the Athertons have a daughter? They must. Who else could she be?

  Ariannorah is as pretentious as her name. She stands with perfect poise, even more than Rosalia, with her soft chin and delicate nose turned up so she can look down on everyone. She’s pretty, though, with rich brown skin and curling black hair that’s wrapped up around her head with fancy silver hairpins.

  She looks down at me, lips pursed. Her eyes scan the length of my dress, and she smirks. With the smallest flick of her head, she turns away from me. Clearly I’m not worth any more of her time.

  Then she sees Beck, and her whole demeanor shifts. She drops her chin a little, batting her eyelashes, and slowly extends one hand and curves it downward, the way ladies are supposed to do when being introduced. The way I should’ve done when meeting Drozzen, probably.

  I’ve never seen anyone kiss a lady’s hand, and I’m guessing Beck hasn’t either, but he doesn’t hesitate or look unsure. In one swift movement he cups her fingers lightly with one hand, bends down, and brushes a kiss across her fingertips.

  My cheeks flush, and heat races through me. It’s probably all these skirts I’m wearing. But that doesn’t explain my sudden urge to claw Ariannorah’s eyes out.

  In a second, Beck straightens up and drops her hand, but nobody seems uncomfortable or suspicious, so I guess he did it right. The other two boys, Abbott and Touzel, aren’t looking particularly friendly, though. If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were glaring at Beck.

  “I’ll leave you to it, then,” says Drozzen, slipping away into the crowd. No one really notices.

  One of the boys—Touzel?—is in front of me, bowing his head. Am I supposed to do the same thing Ariannorah just did? Quickly I extend my hand, but it doesn’t look demure or elegant; I’ve practically shoved it in his face. He doesn’t seem to notice. Cradling my hand like it’s made of glass, he kisses the tips of my gloved fingers, so quickly I barely feel it.

  “It’s an honor, Miss Martell,” he says. He stands up, looking awkward, like he’s not used to doing this. Maybe it’s okay if Beck and I are a little clumsy, then. Maybe all noble’s kids are new at this whole manners thing too?

  Ariannorah’s glaring daggers at me. She bobs a quick curtsey in my direction. “A pleasure.” Her voice drips sarcasm.

  I don’t really know how to curtsey, but I’m counting on my long skirts to hide this fact. I manage a sort of bobbing movement and incline my head. “The pleasure is mine,” I say with equal venom.

  Hearing the sharpness in my voice, Beck gives me a sort of warning glance. Oh, right. Ariannorah is somehow related to Atherton. We need to meet Atherton to get the necklace. We have to focus. I have to focus.

  Not to be outdone by the other boys, Abbott approaches me, and I repeat the hand-shoving motion with him. Then both boys nod their heads toward Beck in a quick bow, which he returns, and the introductions are finally over.

  “Is this your first ball?” Abbott asks, looking at Beck but not me. “We haven’t seen you at any of this year’s large events.” He says it politely, but I don’t think I’m imagining the thinly veiled insult. Clearly, he doesn’t think we’re important enough to have attended their fancy parties.

  “I’ve been staying at my uncle’s estate in Azeland for the past year,” Beck says. He nods at me. “I offered to escort my cousin to her first Ruhian ball.”

  “You’re from Azeland?” Ariannorah says it like it’s a dirty word. “How charming. I thought I heard an accent.”

  I want to point out that Ruhians are the ones with the accent, but I’m supposed to be on my best behavior. “Yes,” I say stiffly.

  Ariannorah laughs, a sort of cackling sound like a witch, and turns back to Beck. “How awful, that you were estranged from all polite society for so long.”

  I’m definitely not imaging the insult this time. “Yes,” I cut in, “it’s such a shame Berkeley never knew polite society until he came to Azeland. He’ll have to come visit more often.”

  Ariannorah’s eyes narrow, and she turns slowly back to me. The boys are all looking at me now too. Touzel’s mouth hangs open, but Abbott looks offended. Beck’s glare suggests he wants to strangle me. I guess I forgot about the whole “best behavior” thing.

  “I know this is your first Ruhian ball,” Ariannorah says quietly, “and therefore you’ve never been in such polite society before, so I will not take offense at that remark.”

  I open my mouth, planning to say something like “Then I won’t take offense at yours,” but Beck starts talking before I get an insult out. “So tell me, what have I missed while I’ve been away?”

  Ariannorah is all too happy to turn her attention back to him. She launches into a long description filled with noble-sounding names and estates that no one really pays attention to. Halfway through, the musicians strike up a new tune, and couples move toward the dance floor.

  Ariannorah watches the couples with a gleam in her eye and turns pointedly to Beck, breaking off midsentence.

  For a second I think Beck’s going to miss her not-so-subtle hint, but he gets it. Copying a gesture we’ve seen other men doing, he bobs down in a half-bow, extends his hand, and asks, “May I have this dance?”

  It’s awkward, but Ariannorah’s too thrilled to notice. She places her hand lightly in his and steps forward, her long dress rustling. Her gown is pale pink with a massive skirt that reminds me of a frosted cupcake. She and Beck walk away, revealing that the waist of the gown is cinched with a massive pink bow in the back like she’s sprouting wings. She looks so ridiculous I have to bite back a laugh.

  I’m distracted by Touzel, who bows in front of me, a bit more gracefully than Beck managed, and says, “May I have this dance?”

  I’m about to say yes, but I never learned how to dance. I shouldn’t have thrown that book at Rosalia. The first book, anyway. The second was justified. Touzel’s just staring still. God, what should I say? Panic surges through my mind.

  “I’m feeling a little faint,” I manage, which is true, since the bodice of this stupid dress is squeezing all the air from my lungs. “I think I nee
d to, uh, sit for a second—”

  Touzel is instantly concerned. “Let me help you.”

  Without waiting for a response, he takes my arm and leads me over to some chairs against the wall, all the while looking at me like I’m suddenly incapable of walking two steps on my own. I guess playing the damsel in distress was a good move, though. Touzel’s jumping at the chance to help. “Let me get you a refreshment!” he offers, way too enthusiastic. “Perhaps some cider, or some sparkling water?”

  “Thank you,” I say, both to seem polite and avoid the drinks question, since I have no idea what any of them are. I try to remember the last time I had anything to drink but water and can’t think of a single time.

  Abbott sits beside me, but he doesn’t look happy about it. He stares longingly toward the dance floor. I follow his gaze and see Ariannorah and Beck. Luckily it’s a slow dance, so it doesn’t look like Beck has to know any complicated steps. I don’t know how much Rosalia taught him. . . .

  Ariannorah’s hand is digging into his shoulder like a bird sinking its talons into prey. He’s got his hand around her waist, which is awkward, since it’s squashing the ugly bow on her cupcake dress. They’re standing so close their noses practically touch.

  Heat floods my face. Good thing Touzel went to get me a drink. I’m so hot under all these skirts.

  Abbott and I sit in silence, glaring at Beck and Ariannorah.

  Touzel returns with a drink in each hand. “I wasn’t sure which you wanted,” he gasps, “so I got both, and I’ll take the other. . . .”

  I take the nearest drink without really looking at it. “Thank you,” I say, trying to smile at him. It probably looks more like a grimace.

  Touzel sits down on my other side. He looks at the dance floor like he’s watching the couples, but he keeps glancing at me and then looking away quickly. Every couple of seconds, he runs a hand through his light brown hair, making the ends stick up a little. It looks better that way, sort of tousled instead of slicked.

  I take a sip of the drink. It’s tart and fizzy, burning on its way down my throat. Touzel seems to be waiting for me to say something. He won’t stop looking at me, so I say, “That helps, thanks.”

  He looks relieved. “If there’s anything else you need . . . ?”

  “Not right now.”

  We sit in silence.

  I try to plan my next move. Beck’s obviously hoping to get Ariannorah to introduce him—or us?—to her mother at some point. But what then? I’ll have to get her alone somewhere, then take the necklace and run before she has time to call the guards. But how long it will take Beck to win us an introduction? This is so complicated. I’d been hoping we could just walk up to Atherton once we found her. I thought getting her alone would be the hard part. Now I understand why Beck was so worried about this trial. It requires so much more than just thievery. It’s all about deception and playing our parts.

  The first song leads right into a second, then a third. Beck and Ariannorah dance without stopping. After what must have been hours, the third song ends. Beck’s laughing, his face flushed, and Ariannorah looks like she’s giggling. She leads him to the other side of the room, away from where Touzel and Abbott and I are sitting. Toward Lady Atherton.

  Maybe he’s convinced her to make the introductions already?

  Abbott’s just figured out Ariannorah’s not coming back, and he leaps to his feet. “Let’s see where they’re going,” he mumbles, by way of explanation. I don’t think he wants to be accompanied, but I latch onto this excuse and follow him. After a second, I hear Touzel’s hasty footsteps behind me.

  By the time we get across the floor, Ariannorah’s gotten her mother’s attention. Lady Atherton turns away from the women she was talking to and looks down at her daughter. We’re still too far away to hear what’s being said.

  We draw closer. Lady Atherton turns to Beck, and he offers her a low bow. She just looks at him. Now, finally, we’re getting in earshot.

  “. . . pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Atherton says, but there’s no pleasure in the way she says it. It’s cold.

  Like mother, like daughter. I wince. I guess we have that in common, since Ariannorah might have an awful mother too. Or not. I can only hope my mother and I have less in common with each other than the Athertons do.

  We’re close enough now that Lady Atherton sees us. “Allow me to introduce my cousin, Miss Allianna Martell,” Beck says quickly.

  I fake another curtsey, and Lady Atherton inclines her head a fraction of an inch. “Pleasure,” we say at almost the same time.

  There’s a beat of awkward silence. Then Lady Atherton looks at her daughter and says, “Why don’t you children go on to the refreshment table?”

  Ariannorah winces, and again I feel a pang of something that might almost be sympathy if I didn’t hate her. She’s clearly embarrassed at being treated like a child. “I was hoping we could take a stroll in the gardens,” she says, and something about the way she says “we” makes me think it doesn’t include me or Touzel or Abbott. “I was just telling Berk—Master Martell that you’re such an expert on botany, and you could give us a tour?”

  Who does she think she’s kidding? We all know she doesn’t care about botany, and neither does anyone else. But, now that I think about it, this might be perfect. The gardens are more isolated, and there are fewer people around. If Beck distracts Ariannorah, I can grab the necklace and run. “I’d love to hear your opinion,” I chime in. Everyone looks at me in surprise. “I’ve always been so fascinated by botany, and I’d love to hear an expert’s take. . . .”

  As I was hoping, Lady Atherton swallows the bait. She looks flattered, if mildly inconvenienced. “I suppose I could show you children around for a moment.”

  Ariannorah winces again, but Lady Atherton doesn’t notice. She sweeps away toward the doors. Beck offers Ariannorah his arm, and this time he doesn’t even look awkward.

  Now. To get rid of these other fools.

  “Master Touzel,” I say, remembering to add the title before his name at the last second, “do you think you could get us some more refreshments?” Conveniently, I forgot my drink over by the chairs.

  Touzel looks a little confused, but he’s eager as ever. It’s kind of endearing, actually, like a puppy wagging its tail at me. “Of course.” He rushes off.

  Abbott doesn’t take the hint, though, so I’ll have to be blatant. “Won’t you help him? He can’t carry all the drinks by himself.”

  Abbott looks annoyed, but as I thought, social convention won’t allow him to refuse. “Good idea,” he says, his politeness not hiding his irritation as he follows Touzel. Grinning, I hurry after Beck and the Athertons, moving as fast as my heeled shoes and sweeping skirts will let me.

  There are a few people milling around the gardens, but Beck and I lead the Athertons to more secluded pathways by asking Lady Atherton about the flowers we see there. Apparently we’re both thinking the same thing, because we move to do it at the same time. Adrenaline surges through my veins. We’re getting closer. This is it. We finally get to steal something and get out of here.

  Ahead, the path splits in two. Beck catches my eyes and nods slightly. I nod back, understanding. I hurry down one of the forks like some flowers have caught my attention.

  “Oh, Lady Atherton, do tell me what this is.” As Lady Atherton walks toward me to examine the flower I’ve randomly selected, Beck leads Ariannorah around the corner. He whispers something in her ear, and she giggles quietly. My stomach tightens, but I don’t have time to wonder what he’s saying to her. I keep walking down the path, leading Lady Atherton as she drones on about flowers.

  I pause. Lady Atherton’s still blathering on, and there’re still too many people close by to try anything. If I can steer her to a more secluded spot . . .

  Beck and Ariannorah have stopped walking; I catch glimpses of her skirts through the hedges. Close enough that I can overhear them. Not that I’m trying to eavesdrop, of course. I don’t car
e what they’re talking about. I can’t help overhearing, that’s all.

  Someone sighs—must be Ariannorah. Then she says, “It’s so nice out here—so quiet. It’s nice to get away from these things.”

  “Really?” Beck’s surprise sounds genuine. “It seemed like you were having fun.”

  “Oh, I didn’t mean that,” Ariannorah says quickly. “It’s not—it’s not that I’m not having a nice time. It’s just that . . . all the balls and the parties and everything, I just . . . get tired.”

  “Yeah,” Beck says, but he’s having trouble hiding his confusion. I have no idea what she’s on about either. Unless she means that she’s tired of wearing these ridiculous skirts and shoes, in which case I wholeheartedly support her position.

  “I know I sound silly,” she says quickly. She’s heard the disagreement in his tone too. “Complaining about going to parties. Silly. But it’s . . . all the people and the noise and the music, and everybody always trying to say the right thing all the time, tripping over themselves to be polite, everybody hating each other but trying to hide it . . . sometimes I just need to get away. I just want it all to stop.”

  I can barely keep the surprise off my face. That sounds like something I would’ve said myself. I would almost agree with her, if I didn’t hate her.

  Beck murmurs something I can’t hear. Beside me, Lady Atherton has turned her attention from one flower to another, and moves slightly down the path, away from Beck and Ariannorah. This is good—it’s more secluded here—but I inch forward as slowly as I can to follow her, straining to hear what they’re saying.

  “And then there’s my mother,” Ariannorah says. “Always drilling me about manners and decorum, criticizing every little thing—and then not paying any attention at all to anything that matters. She doesn’t seem to notice that I’m not five anymore.” She stops abruptly, cutting herself off from whatever else she was going to say. “Are your parents like that too?”

  “Er, yeah. Yes,” Beck says. “My mom . . . she can be oblivious sometimes.”