A Little Knowledge (The Split Worlds #4) - Emma Newman Page 0,7

becoming an Arbiter began?

A crash from the bathroom made Kay yelp. “Is someone else here?”

“Just a cleaner,” Rupert said. “Let’s get some food and then go to the auction. They’ll be gone by the time we get back. Right, Max?”

Max pulled his gaze from the photograph. “Yes, sir.” He scanned the article’s title. Bath’s Troubled History and the Missing Rebels of Yesteryear. “I may not be here when you get back. I need to look into something.” He picked up the newspaper. “May I keep this, Miss Hyde?” When she nodded he folded it up and tucked it into the inside pocket of his overcoat. Max had never discovered what happened to his father, nor why the Arbiter was there that night. Before seeing that photo it hadn’t even occurred to him that there were questions he wanted to ask. Now that there were, it was time to find some answers.

2

Will couldn’t help thinking that his life would have been so much easier if he’d been married to someone as politically astute as Margritte. What he had thought would be a short briefing on how Cathy should present the idea of the Ladies’ Court had turned into an argument, when all he was trying to do was help her avoid conflict.

When he’d discussed the idea with Margritte, a Ladies’ Court had seemed an obvious way forward, something progressive enough to channel Cathy’s energy and keep her more strident behaviour away from the attention of the gentlemen of the court. The way Cathy talked about it now, anyone would think it was some patriarchal conspiracy to undermine…something or other. He’d lost track.

Amazingly, he was starting to see Margritte as a valued friend—even though less than a month before she’d sought his destruction. Will didn’t mind helping her to stay safe—far from it. He felt it was his duty now and part of his penance for killing her husband. Though he still lived with the guilt, he couldn’t dwell on the past. The strange, infuriating, and spirited woman he’d fallen in love with was making more than enough trouble to keep him occupied.

Cathy wanted too much too soon and refused to be patient. Will tried to remember that she was under the influence of Poppy’s magic, that damned third wish that she’d made before they’d married. It was supposedly a wish for her to reach her true potential, but ever since he’d learned Poppy was convinced it would be destructive, the thought of it had haunted Will. Surely Poppy’s magic was driving her to this recklessness? He was of a mind to mention it to Lord Iris should it worsen. Perhaps he could lift it from her. Not that she’d want that. And even if he could bring himself to ask that Lord Iron for help, he knew the magic in their wedding ring and the curse his family had put on her would be broken too. Unacceptable. He needed a more subtle solution than that blundering fool.

“Darling,” Will said, leaning forwards to take her hands as she paused for breath. “I understand that you have doubts. But surely you agree that a Ladies’ Court would at least be a step towards more significant change?” He didn’t say it was the only step he was willing to allow for now.

By the time they arrived, she seemed to be ready to make the announcement in the way he’d recommended.

Will stroked the back of Cathy’s gloved hand as the carriage passed through the outer gates of the Tower. She was always more highly strung before any meeting of the Londinium Court, behaving more like a prisoner heading for the gallows.

For him, every visit to the Tower was invigorating. His ancestor—his namesake—had ruled over the mundanes from the anchor property, the first reflected into the Nether by Lord Iris, from which the rest of Londinium grew. The Irises were in ascendance, memories of the Rosa rule that had lasted for hundreds of years were fading fast, and the name of William Reticulata-Iris meant something at last.

To think, only a few months ago he’d been drinking cocktails on a Mediterranean beach, dreading his return home. The Grand Tour had given him a taste of freedom and life without his father breathing down his neck, watching for imperfection. In Mundanus he’d been a wealthy playboy, dawdling from place to place with his best friend, enjoying everything life under that gloriously blue sky had to offer. He’d made the most of it, knowing that he would have to