Seleste, Then

SELESTE

S he felt lighter than air. After every few swipes of her duster, Seleste found herself touching her fingertips to her lips. She'd had lovers before, of course, but none had ever kissed her like that or even looked at her like Cal had.

Darting off before he could tell her when and where he wanted to meet that night was probably a foolish thing to do. But the moment, kissing in the Summer rain… It had been too perfect to taint with anything so mundane as a plan. Her dress had also been growing increasingly see-through by that rain. It was hardly the way a maid should be seen leaving the hideaway chalet of a young lord.

Now that she was dry, changed, and cleaning the parlour, time felt like it was drawn out to a standstill. Seleste sighed, trying to commit every bit of what she was feeling to memory. Living as long as she had, and experiencing all that she had, it could be difficult to soak up small moments. The years blended together until there were no days, let alone moments.

Even now, she could hardly remember details about even her most substantial Orders. Since discovering that about herself—how easily she let moments drift from her memory for how full her mind could be with current details—she'd made a point of pausing to store certain moments in a pocket of her memory, never to be forgotten or overshadowed.

Her thoughts drifted off when she heard someone coming. A sharp, quick tattoo of steps. Madame Riley.

"Seleste," the head maid barked from the doorway. "His Lordship would like to see you."

"Pardon?"

The earl was still ill, as far as she knew, and she couldn't ask which ‘ his lordship ,' considering no one knew she had any contact with Cal. And, of course, she also wasn't supposed to know who exactly any of them were. Not that Cal would send Madame Riley to fetch her, anyway.

That settled it, then. It had to be the earl. Which made even less sense. Unless?—

Madame Riley huffed as if the head of the household requesting the presence of a scullery maid in the middle of the afternoon was perfectly normal. "Put your things down. I'll take you to him."

Seleste's palms were beginning to sweat as they walked down the hall toward the earl's sick room. Had he somehow found out about her kiss with his son that afternoon? Had someone been spying on them and told him? Even worse, had Cal regretted everything and gone to his father himself. Were they preparing to send her away?

She couldn't fail her Order. Sanction or not, Winnie would be devastated. But it was the thought of Cal wanting her to leave, wishing he'd never become her friend, that sent a drop of cold sweat sliding down her spine.

Madame Riley knocked twice and opened the door without waiting for a response. "My lord." She gave a quick bow without truly looking into the room. "Mademoiselle Seleste is here." The head maid turned and gave Seleste a little grimace before she darted off down the hall, leaving Seleste with no option but to enter the room.

To her surprise, Cal was standing in the corner next to his father's bedside. The earl looked terrible. So awful, that Seleste momentarily forgot to be nervous about the encounter. She wanted to rush over and use her magic to discern what was wrong with him. But she was afraid her cunning was already making quick work of that one. Yellowed eyes, sunken cheeks, thinning arms...

She pulled her eyes from the earl long enough to remember to curtsy. "My lords."

When she straightened, Cal's face was bright and open. If she were being dismissed, he didn't realise it yet. That was a relief, at least.

Abruptly, he turned to the earl and gave a slight bow. "Father." Then he turned to her and inclined his head. "Mademoiselle Seleste." With that, he left her alone with the Earl of Bellvary.

"Please," the earl croaked, gesturing toward a chair at his bedside and reaching for a glass of water.

He took a small sip, and it seemed far too much of a struggle. As he did, she sat in the chair, willing herself not to wring her hands .

"I'm sure you're curious as to why I've called you here this evening."

"Yes, milord." Seleste tried to smile. "In truth, I am quite curious."

"Well—" The earl tried to sit up but was having great difficulty. Seleste rose without thinking and adjusted his pillows behind him. "Thank you," he murmured. "You're very kind."

"It's no trouble at all, my lord." She sat back in her seat, still uneasy. The man did not appear angry with her, but the seriousness of his illness was clouding her senses, and she was having difficulty judging beyond that. Did Cal know how ill his father truly was? Did any of them?

"My son marched in here this afternoon and informed me that having you as our maid is a waste."

Seleste's heart plummeted. No, Cal wouldn't say something like that…would he? She'd been wrong about him before, but— "My lord?" She tried to mask the hurt seeping through in her voice.

The earl coughed violently, snatching a kerchief from his bedside table and hacking into it. When the fit was through, he quickly bunched up the soiled kerchief and stuffed it on his night table to retrieve his glass of water, but not before Seleste caught little dots of blood on the white linen.

"Apologies." He cleared his throat. "Where was I? Oh, yes, yes. My son has declared to me that your talents are being wasted as a maid."

Seleste tried not to let her eyes bulge. Her heart was hammering against her ribs even more than when she thought Cal had thrown her to the wolves. "His lordship said that? "

The earl nodded. "He's adamant that you should be my daughters' governess."

She couldn't help it, she baulked. "Governess? My lord, you cannot mean that."

He held up a hand. "I'm as shocked as you are, but my son is a very good judge of character. He ought to be, the way he just sits back and studies everything." The earl shook his head, and Seleste felt a pang of sympathy for Cal. He would never quite be what his parents wished for him to be. "At any rate, my daughters are behind in their schooling. My wife seems to believe they only need to learn how to be ladies , and not how to use their goddess-damned minds." He rolled his eyes and stifled another cough. "Can you bring them up to where they should be, preferably ahead , for their return to the city this Autumn?"

Still shaken in more ways than one, Seleste nodded, not exactly certain all that she was agreeing to.

"Good," the earl said gruffly. "My boy says you are excellent with the girls, and that they actually listen to you." He chuckled.

"I greatly enjoy Lady Emeline and Lady Elsie. But, milord, they already have Mademoiselle Becky."

A great bellow of a laugh came out of the man, so jarring that Seleste almost recoiled. "That woman is a glorified dog walker . My wife hired her as a favour to her sister, and she hasn't taught the girls a damned thing aside from how to annoy a woman half to death. Now, do you want the position or not?"

"I do, milord. Yes." Excitement was beginning to replace her trepidation .

"And you are well-versed in Reading, Writing, and Arithmetic?"

"Yes. As well as all the languages of Midlerea, and Anthropology, Philosophy, and Geography." She pointedly left out any form of Science the earl might frown upon.

His eyes narrowed, but she would hazard a guess that it was more out of being impressed than wary. "Religion?"

Now that was a tricky one to answer. Well-versed, yes. A stickler? Depends. Traditional? Not in the way a member of the aristocracy would appreciate.

The beau monde no longer went through their g?this to speak to Hespa via confessionals and the like—not that they ever needed to in the first place—but they still had their magicless mages and Grand Magus; their Atonement Days, and their warped Scripture readings and practises.

To answer correctly, she needed to discern where this particular earl stood. Cal had made little mention of religion in the traditional sense. His only commentary was in their debates on the subject when he always played both sides for the sake of argument. Goddess , she loved that about him, too.

None of the family had left Whitehall to go to a Sanctuary in the nearest town on Atonement Day. There was no Book of Scriptures at the earl's bedside. No mage had come to pray with the earl while he was sick…

Finally, she had her carefully crafted answer. "Religion is found by an individual. It is not taught from a book." She left out her belief that religion was a poor term for spirituality by half, and her idea that one's theology should be as unique to an individual as they are to the rest of the populace.

There was a moment of silence between them, but Seleste was proud of her response, and she would stand by it. At last, the earl smiled, his tired eyes crinkling at the corners. "I agree. Very well. You have two moons left of the Summer to teach my girls what they need to know to beat the intellectual snot out of any boy their age."

Seleste laughed. "Yes, my lord." She rose to take her leave, but a thought struck her. "I…do also know how to teach them to beat the actual snot out of any boy their age…"

A look of pure shock crossed the earl's features before he roared with laughter. "Yes! Then teach them that, too."