poured her wine. "Port?" Elf queried, but she passed it over.
"It's a particular favorite of mine," said Diana feeling tears ache around her eyes. "Sent specially by Bey. I hoped..."
Elf eyed the crystal decanter, then poured herself some and sipped it. "His special sort. Be honored. From the Quinta do Bom Retiro."
Diana recognized the name, and the butler had presented it with reverence, but she said, "He would hardly send me inferior wine."
"He had no need to send any," Elf pointed out, looking more cheery, "and believe me, he doesn't supply this to every guest."
"A sweet farewell, then. And ordered this morning, apparently. It means nothing."
Elf cocked her head. "You and Bey both like lemon water, too, you know."
"So?"
"So, you are extraordinarily well suited!"
"Many people like lemon water."
Elf waved it away as if Diana had missed the point. "And you knew where he'd be. In the workshop. Bryght talked to him there. I couldn't really follow what happened - I don't think Bryght told me everything - but he did seem to think something had happened."
"Good or bad? But you don't need to persuade me we are suited." Diana laughed. "What a weak word! He is the blood in my heart and the breath in my mouth. I know I am the same for him, but what if he holds to his resolve?"
At last, Diana told Elf the thing she'd held back, the feeling she'd had last night that Bey was desperately fragile.
"You want to break him, don't you?" Elf asked, but she looked worried, too.
"No," Diana said. "I've realized I don't. I want him freed of the shell that imprisons him. But I want him to be whole. What if I have broken him? What if that's why he's behaving so strangely?"
Elf bit her lip, but then said, "He'll be at the masquerade. His sense of duty would never let him abandon that. We'll find out then."
"I'd kill myself rather than destroy him."
"And he'd do the same for you. Let us pray, instead, for life."
Diana sighed, and took a deep drink of the magnificent port. Then she put the glass aside and stood. "Help me on with the costume then. It is time for Diana to hunt."
There was no formal dinner before the masquerade, since in theory everyone wanted their costumes to be kept secret. However, Diana found herself swept into a family dinner with Bryght, Portia, Elf, and her husband, and was soon on first-name terms with everyone. It was clear they all accepted her as Bey's bride, even though they had doubts that there would be a wedding. A strange state of affairs, but it made dismal sense. As if she were the affianced bride of a man who had died.
Bey apparently was in his rooms and alive, but no one had spoken to him since Bryght, and when Elf had knocked, Fettler had politely denied her admission.
After a flurry of concern, the family had resolutely not spoken of it, and most of the conversation had been about their northern trip. Diana was struck again by the seriousness with which they took their business affairs. Portia shrugged and said that she had enough to do with a child to raise, but Bryght was deeply involved with the northern canal systems, and with plans for them farther south. Fort was in charge of some kind of partnership between himself and the Mallorens to do with wine and spirits. He was also clearly developing his own family's business affairs, with an eye especially to his younger brother Victor, soon to return from time in Italy.
Her own knowledge of northern industry, of lead mines and wool production, was absorbed greedily. By the time the meal drew to a close, she realized new wounds threatened. She genuinely liked the Malloren family and their spouses. They already felt like a family of her own, and losing Bey would also lose her this.
Fort was to her right, and he squeezed her hand. "I'm tempted to call him out for the pain he's causing you. But then he'd kill me. No," he corrected her wryly, "that's not true. He'd let me kill him to save Elf from pain, which of course would be stupid because Elf would enter a nunnery and weep forever more."
Elf, on his other side, swatted at him, but she didn't look amused. "He's doing the best he can, Fort."
"He's making life into a labyrinth, as usual. I know all your hearts are bleeding, but I have to confess to a