“Yes,” the countess replied, equally quietly. She spotted Juliette dancing on the floor, knew Audrey to be about, as well. It was still astonishing to her how quickly those girls had grown in importance. The knowledge that she would be willing to do what she deemed necessary to keep them happy and safe, to keep them free, was something she had been struggling with.
And it seemed, at least in this, she had an ally.
“They are displeased,” she added softly. “They feel the fortune is their due for the burden of raising Juliette.”
“Hm. Then they’ll find that they have a few obstacles and fences in their way,” Ofelia said. She still sounded light, unaffected, but this time the implied threat was clear, and it certainly wasn’t directed to Genevieve.
The broker’s hand had been on the tiller in the past—assisting Vivi with the legal ward paperwork, obtaining a sufficient paper trail for Audrey to claim her inheritance—and if the need arose, if the Coulombes and their guardian required another helping hand, it would be there.
“If you ever need me...” Ofelia added, letting the rest of the sentence trail.
“Then I shall certainly let you know,” she finished, voice light and airy. As though they were discussing nothing more taxing than the pleasant weather that had accompanied the festival this year. “Though I did wish to ask you something.”
The idea had been one she had been toying with for some time, and had talked herself out of as often as she had thought it a good one. She was not quite ready to lay all of her cards on the table, so to speak, for the gambler to read, but she could not deny the benefit that such a relationship could have. “Perhaps, when you are free some time soon, you would care to join me for tea?”
Genevieve’s invitation gave Ofelia a mild jolt, but she revealed none of her surprise: it was a thought that had circled her own mind over and over, a tentative broaching of some sort of barrier between them, always skittishly backing away at the last second.
With the path now cleared, however, the gambler took the opening, stripped of cunning or machination.
“I would love to. I’m partial to Hana’s, but I also wouldn’t say no to an invitation to your estate. Not a ‘special party’,” she added quickly, clarifying with a smile, “I’ve no need for scavenger hunts, honestly.”
“Then consider this a formal invitation to my estate for some time of your choosing,” Genevieve told her. She felt more comfortable on solid ground, surrounded by her life and secrets, without the threat of prying eyes and ears. They could speak frankly there, if that was what they so chose to do. It would be unnerving - she valued her privacy, but she was attempting to make a show of trust.
Her smile remained genuine and warm. “It appears as though my date has come to retrieve me. Do let me know when you would like to have tea, Ofelia.”
Glancing back over her shoulder, Ofelia caught a glimpse of the man in question as he swanned his way through the crowd and back to his countess. He looked like a garish waistcoat personified, with arms and legs and face attached to it as more an afterthought than anything else. The gambler was quick to smother a laugh, calling on all her training to suppress her reaction.
“We’ll get back to each other on the scheduling,” she said in a strangled voice, still half-almost-laughing, and then she disappeared, before she could accidentally land herself on her own guildmaster’s list of ill will.