Esmeralda wandered back into the main ballroom after her conversation with Golden. Her cheeks were still flushed as she walked, holding the hem of her skirt delicately in hand in search of Jeanette.
"Esmé!" Esmeralda turned at the sound of her name to find Jeanette walking towards her. She was all smiles—evidently, her last dance had been pleasant.
"Where have you been? I've been searching for you," Jeanette asked, pulling her toward a wine stand.
"I stepped out to the garden for a little air," Esmeralda replied, picking up one of the wine glasses and taking a sip. "Tastes lovely." She looked up at her friend, only to find her being met with a mischievous look.
"What has you so flushed, Esmeralda?" Jeanette asked, folding her arms across her chest.
"It's the wine," Esmeralda deflected, turning her attention to the glass in her hand. "You should try it too."
Jeanette rolled her eyes. "Yes, sure, Esmeralda. You were flushed before the wine." That was one of Jeanette's many qualities—her persistence.
Esmeralda sighed. "It's nothing of importance, Jean. Truly."
Jeanette wasn't having it. "Did you meet someone in the garden?" she asked, noticing how Esmeralda flushed once more. "There goes my answer! Who is he?!" She perked up instantly, prompting another sigh from Esmeralda.
"Well…" she began with a slight shrug, "he's just an averagely handsome man. Nothing of too much importance."
Esmeralda didn't wish to mention that he was, in truth, a bodyguard. He would seem lesser in her friend's eyes, even if he wasn't lesser in hers. "He is handsome, anyway," she continued.
Jeanette smiled with a nod. "Alright, I can sense you don't wish to share much about this certain man of yours. I shall go find someone else to dance with." Her eyes twinkled, and Esmeralda returned the nod.
"Okay then."
Jeanette took a sip of Esmeralda's wine, then turned on her heel and departed. Esmeralda remained by the wine stand, observing the crowd, when she noticed a woman of unmistakable high society approaching her. As she passed, guests bowed to offer their greetings.
Bowing was customary courtesy, but this felt different. To this woman, it seemed a gesture born of reverence—perhaps she was a queen or the grand duchess.
Esmeralda did not know what the Queen nor the Duchess looked like; there were rarely any celebrations where one could behold their visages and she hardly read the newspaper.
When the lady reached Esmeralda, she, like the others, lifted her skirt slightly and bent her knee in a curtsy. "My lady."
Still in position, the lady hooked a finger beneath Esmeralda's chin and lifted her face gently. "Oh, what a beautiful face you have there, darling."
Esmeralda blinked at the unexpected compliment. Guests watched them, though discreetly, which only deepened her curiosity about the woman. Her hair was an unnatural shade of red, perfectly matching her lip rouge. Her complexion was fair and unblemished, and the golden-purple silk dress she wore appeared to be of the finest quality.
"Thank you, milady," Esmeralda replied, standing upright. She realized the woman was a full head taller than herself.
"What is your name, dear?" the lady asked.
"Esmeralda, milady."
"Esmeralda…" The lady repeated the name as if tasting it. It sounded precious from her lips. "Where do you reside, Esmeralda?"
"In the town of Isolde, milady. A town not far from the Duke's mansion," Esmeralda answered. She did not know why she was being questioned, nor who the woman truly was, but there was something comforting in her presence—enough for her to answer willingly.
"Oh, that's lovely, and not far at all," the lady giggled, her body shaking in an elegant fashion. "Esmeralda, I should like you to meet my son. He is otherwise occupied at the moment."
Esmeralda blinked. She opened her mouth and then closed it, lost for words. But before she could respond, the lady continued.
"It may seem sudden, but my son is a fine young man. And he is of age, dear. I should be delighted if you were to meet him."
"Oh… Very well then. I would love to meet your son as well," she agreed with a small smile, though she had no notion who this son might be. If the mother was so striking, the son surely couldn't be far from it.
Could he?
It wasn't about beauty, though, Esmeralda reminded herself.
"With that being said, I should like to have your address so that I may write to you further."
"Very well." Esmeralda nodded, wondering where she might write it down. The lady flicked her finger, and a bodyguard—his uniform left no doubt—stepped forward with a parchment scroll and a quill in hand.
"Lady Esmeralda's Couture Atelier, 32 Block, Isolde's Market."
The lady smiled as the guard finished writing. "Expect a letter from me, dear. I shall see you soon."
Esmeralda nodded and bowed once more, and the lady departed. It had not been even a minute before Jeanette reappeared.
"What were you doing speaking with the Duchess?!" Jeanette whispered in astonishment.
Esmeralda blanched. "Duchess…? That… She is the Duchess?"
Jeanette sighed and shook her head with resignation. "I told you, Esmé, to read more newspapers, so you'd recognise the faces of the important figures in Eldengale! What if you'd said something improper? You didn't even know she was the Duchess." She sighed again, clearly exasperated.
Esmeralda's mind was a whirlwind. If that lady was the Duchess, then the son she spoke of must be the Duke's son—the Duke had only one heir—and Golden's master.
"Oh dear," Esmeralda whispered, realising the depth of the tangle she might be in. She had no desire to become involved with the Duke's family. That sort of life was for Jeanette, not for her. Not in any way.
"Esmé!" Esmeralda turned to Jeanette, who was staring at her with a worried frown. "What is the matter? Did you truly say something unkind? Or did she offend you?"
"No," Esmeralda shook her head. "Not at all. You need not worry. She only paid me a compliment."
Jeanette's expression shifted into one of dreamy delight. "Oh, to be complimented by the Duchess, an honour." She giggled, and Esmeralda forced herself to do the same.
An honour indeed.