Page 23 of By Mistake

Less than a week ago he'd lived in a room off the kitchen and struggled simply to exist. Now he had an opulent house, servants to keep it in order, and two manservants and a secretary to keep him in order.

The royal ball was less than a week away; his clothes for it would be delivered any day now for the final final final fitting; and he had a million other engagements besides.

Today would be his first foray into the society he'd never been permitted to be part of, between poverty and Farthing's relentless bullying.

A garden party, of all things. Seemed a bit much.

Surely he should go around on a visiting day saying hello to various persons and households instead of some fancy afternoon party where he knew exactly nobody?

"If you fret any harder you'll pass out," Shimari said drolly, full of sympathy as always.

Andrus rolled his eyes. "I have never done this in my life. I am going to make five thousand mistakes, which will reflect poorly on His Majesty, which will hurt Oresti."

"It's a garden party, not a duel."

"Duels are illegal."

"So is summoning zero class demons."

Andrus shot him a glare. "Stop bringing that up."

"It's hard not to bring up the whole reason I'm here."

"The gods hate me is the reason you're here."

Shimari laughed, bright and sharp, and Andrus hated how pleased he got with himself whenever he achieved that.

Leaving the window where he'd been watching the street periodically through the afternoon, he fussed with Andrus's clothes, adjusting lace and smoothing lapels.

"You look a treat, Master. I think that's how the youths say it.

His Highness best watch out he does not lose you to some pretty thing who comes with fewer challenges. "

"Yes, a surfeit of suitors, that's what awaits me." Andrus rolled his eyes. "So what will you be up to while I'm gone all day?"

"Laying wards and traps, see what sorts of curious little flies I might catch in my web tonight. Greivs and I were also going to do some scouting."

Andrus's brow furrowed. "Greivs? Not Oresti?"

"He has something else to look into, some murder or another that must take precedence."

"I love how everyone knows all of this except me," Andrus said with a sigh.

Shimari's mouth curved in the barest hint of a soft smile. "You are busy building the life you always should have had—"

"No one is entitled—"

"—and correctly leaving the matter of your protection to those qualified," Shimari pushed on relentlessly. "Stop scowling and run along, your carriage has pulled up and is waiting."

"When did I even get a carriage? Those take months to make," Andrus said, not really speaking to anyone, because the answer was 'Shimari and money' every single time.

Andrus needed to sit down and get a good look at his own finances, but every time he tried, Shimari distracted him with something else, like he hadn't noticed he was being distracted.

But he knew how to pick his battles, mostly, and Shimari obviously knew what he was doing, so for once in his damned life, Andrus wasn't going to worry about money.

He took one last glance at himself in the mirror, shaking his head at the sheer absurdity of it all, wearing so much expensive clothing and jewelry, then accepted help from the footman in getting his coat on before taking his hat and heading out.

This would be a good deal less nerve-wracking if he had someone to go with him. A friend. Something he'd never had in his life. Oresti was out of the question. A royal prince could not go about to all these damned teas and soirees; he'd cause unmitigated havoc. Greivs?

All his new relationships were strange and complicated, nothing he could label easily. Friend wasn't wrong, but it wasn't right, either. Anyway Greivs being Oresti's best friend and right hand took him right out. Shimari? He'd draw all the wrong attention.

So alone it was. His mother had taught him all the required etiquette for high society, but knowing and using it were entirely different beasts. Nothing for it but to do it, though, as remaining a hermit was no longer an option. Not when he had accepted Oresti's suit.

Which begged the question why His Majesty was permitting such a thing, when surely Oresti had potential suitors in numbers sufficient to fill the royal palace. There was no way they would let Oresti choose Andrus of all people.

That, however, was a problem to overthink about later.

As he arrived at the house where he would be 'making his social debut,' he gave serious consideration to simply running away. Hiding in the park, living off the land, something crazy but surely easier than this.

In the end, though, dubious common sense held, and he soon found himself ushered through the house to the beautiful garden behind it, where a much larger crowd than he'd been led to expect already milled about.

"Lord Bothwell, I'm so honored you accepted my invitation," said a deep, melodious voice as a woman in green and pink drew up to him. Lady Reska Whyte, Countess of Archon, his hostess.

She offered her hand, and he dutifully accepted it, bowing his head slightly. "The honor is mine to be invited, Lady Whyte. You were most kind to think of me."

"Not at all," she replied breezily, like they and everyone around them weren't aware he'd only gotten all those invitations because nobody would dare ignore someone loudly declared a friend of the royal family.

"Come, come, let's get you introduced to everyone, shall we?

" Her smile was pleasant, but didn't entirely reach her eyes.

He was another duty on her list, which he was more than fine with.

He braced himself as she took his arm and led him into the crowd, introducing him to so many people that his head spun trying to keep all the names straight.

Someone pushed a cup of punch into his hands, and it was strong enough to worsen the head-spinning and add some floating on top.

He hadn't wanted to drink, had barely drunk anything beyond cheap wine and perhaps two shots of even cheaper liquor that hopeful men had bought him before starting in on the groping.

Eventually, after dance number…something, he begged needing to refresh himself and slipped away into the many hedges lining the area where the party was taking place.

Strange for there to be this amount of space in a city home, but the Whyte family was as old as the city itself, and they'd made certain to secure an enormous tract of land before the rest of it got broken up and parceled out.

It seemed wasteful, but then again it would have only gone to yet another fancy mansion so was a garden really the worse of the two?

Unfortunately, just as he found the perfect little nook to hide in, complete with cover from the light snow and chilly wind, it was to find that someone else was already there, bundled up against the weather and clearly enjoying his solitude.

He looked to be about Andrus's age, with light brown skin and dark brown hair cut unfashionably short and severely tousled. There were glasses tucked into the front pocket of his blue velvet jacket, and beside him on the bench was a tray of food and drink.

He looked up and froze, eyes widening. "You—"

"Can I hide here with you? Please? Just a few minutes, and I'll leave before anyone comes to find me."

The man relaxed at that, giving a small huff of amusement. "Enjoying yourself then? Lord Bothwell, I presume? You should hear the things they say when you're not around."

"Oh, I can imagine," Andrus said, relaxing so abruptly he nearly fell over, dropping onto the bench with a sigh. "Uppity little tart is probably the nicest thing they say. Friend of the king, being courted by Prince Oresti—"

"You're what ," the man hissed, dropping his book, staring at him wide-eyed. "Prince Oresti? Son of the king's favorite wife? Who has refused hundreds of suits and shows up to events maybe three times a year and no one knows where he goes otherwise? That Prince Oresti? Is courting you?"

"Is there a second one running around somewhere? Yes, that one."

"Don't let the unmarried crowd catch wind of that without a wall of bodyguards between them and you," the man said as he retrieved his book, delicately brushing off the snow.

"My brother alone will do alarmingly violent things to you as he still has delusions of making His Highness fall madly in love with him.

A homeless, starving dog wouldn't fall in love with that—" He stopped, face flushing.

"Sorry, here I am gossiping about my brother while displaying no manners of my own. "

"I don't have siblings, so I can't commiserate, but my understanding is they are often vexing. I'm Andrus, obviously. You look very much like my dear hostess."

That got him a grin in reply. "She is indeed my mother. It's my brother, Lanse, then me, Coret, and finally my sister, Masha."

"Coret, a pleasure to meet you. What are you reading?"

He closed the book and offered it, almost seeming amused. "A book about demons; snuck it out of the restricted section, since I don't have the required license quite yet. Academic interest only. I'm not looking to summon anything. I'd be lucky to manage summoning a teaspoon."

"Summoning is not to be trifled with, that is true," Andrus said. He flipped carefully through the pages of the old, delicate book. "How did you smuggle it out? Surely there must be wards and the like."

Mischief sparkled in Coret's eyes. "I can't go spilling my secrets to someone I just met."

"Well, that just seems unreasonable."

Coret laughed. "So how did you and His Highness meet?"

"At a market, actually. I was buying groceries, he was doing his princely things, our paths crossed by pure chance."

"You know people have bribed staff and more just to get close to him for five minutes, right? The moment the rumor gets out he's courting you…"

"Why do you think I'm searching out hiding spots already?"