Scarlett stared at Dean Godwin. She hadn’t quite been prepared to run into the man this suddenly.

Lord Withersworth cleared his throat. “Ahem. Dear, what brings you here?” he asked, glancing at his wife and son before shifting his gaze to Scarlett. “I see that you have replaced our daughter with Baroness Hartford. You certainly work fast.”

Lady Withersworth let out a short scoff. “You and your dramatics. Do not think that I don’t see what you were trying to do here. I am sure you were hoping we would forget about you and let you waste the evening away drinking with your ‘friends’.” She reached out and took the glass her husband was holding, handing it over to one of the other gentlemen, who received it with a wry smile. “I swear, sometimes it’s as if you want me to nag you. It was only last week that the healer advised you to drink less, yet here I find you doing the exact opposite.”

“Dagnabbit woman, one glass won’t kill me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be quite so sure about that. But even if it does not, I very well might.”

The other men gave hearty laughs at that.

The woman’s head snapped towards them. “Do not act as if you lot aren’t complicit. If I find myself having to bury my fool of a husband prematurely, then I will track down each one of you and ensure you join him. Is that understood?”

“Crystal clear,” the man with one glass in each hand replied. He seemed to be the youngest of the group, even with dark hair streaked with grey and a thick mustache on his lip. “I’ll have my butler charter a ship to Zovivios soonest possible. I hear they have remarkable beaches.”

“You better not have Valda join you on that trip. She knows to prioritise between her husband and her long-time friend.”

The man blinked, then turned to his left. “Godwin, you wouldn’t happen to have room for one more next time you disappear on one of those escapades of yours, would you?”

The dean of Elystead Tower raised two gloved hands in the air, wearing a dignified smile. “I am afraid that I know better than to try to run from the inevitable, Fitzroy. I suggest you surrender to your fate.”

A cough sounded out from Lord Withersworth. “Yes, well, I am sure everyone but my wife here would be overjoyed to see my untimely demise, but if we could perhaps turn our attention to something else.” He glanced at Scarlett before eyeing his wife and son for a moment. “Where did Lorena go to? And is there a particular reason you had to come looking for me? I will have you know this was the first and last glass I was having tonight.”

“Lorena took Lucan to go find Catherine, father,” Reymond explained.

“Hmph. I presumed as much. But why did the Baroness have to come with you, hmm?”

Scarlett raised a brow at that. He was about as brusque as she remembered.

“I had a feeling you were up to no good, dear husband of mine, leaving me little choice but to find you myself,” Lady Withersworth said with a wintry smile. “I also knew you would no doubt have assembled your posse of ‘lounge companions’, and I thought it would be an excellent opportunity to use your time productively and make some introductions.”

She stepped aside, gesturing for Scarlett to come forward. “Gentlemen, some of you may already know her, but this is Baroness Scarlett Hartford. She has recently become a close friend of the family and is the one responsible for my husband no longer having to worry himself through endless sleepless nights.”

Scarlett glanced at the woman for a moment. This wasn’t quite what she was expecting, but it wouldn’t hurt to introduce herself. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she told the group of men.

“That one is Lord George Fitzroy, the current High Treasurer and Count of Quickwallow.” Lady Withersworth pointed at the man with two glasses, one of which he had now finished. “The greybeard beside him is Sir Edmund Somerset, a patron of the Imperial Academy of Arts and Sciences.” A man with thinning white hair and a wrinkled forehead nodded in acknowledgment. “And those two are Master Arthur Windermere, a sponsor of the Western Merchant’s Alliance, and Lord Charles Montague, the previous keeper of the Imperial Seal.” Two men around the same age as Lord Withersworth gave polite nods to Scarlett.

Lady Withersworth then gestured towards Godwin. “And, of course, we have the worst influence on my poor husband among the group — the current Dean of Elystead Tower, Warley Godwin.”

Scarlett looked them over. It appeared to be a gathering of very influential men. Most weren’t high nobles, but at least three were True Nobles—counting Lord Withersworth—who held or had held important offices of state. One was also an archmage, and the other two seemed to hold significant roles as well.

Arthur Windermere, a man who was probably in his late sixties but looked in good shape for his age, twirled a thin mustache as he studied Scarlett. “I believe we have actually met before, Baroness. Although it was quite some time ago, so you may not remember. I paid your mansion in Freybrook a visit for some business with your father several years back.”

“I am afraid I do not recall that, no.”

He let out a deep laugh. “My memories seem to be of a young girl barging into her father’s office during our business negotiations because her favorite music box had broken down. You have matured much since then, I see.”

“I…see. I apologize for any discourteous behavior I might have exhibited at the time.”

“Oh no, not at all.” He showed a lighthearted smile. “What is the point of childhood if not for one to act childish on occasion?”

“That suggests adults should act as adults, but I am left scratching my head trying to recall a time when I’ve seen you conduct yourself as one,” Lord Montague said, and the men laughed as a group again.

Lady Withersworth simply shook her head and turned to Scarlett. “When you are wed, Baroness, I recommend you keep a tight leash on your husband so that he does not stray too far. Ittar knows men can be fools at times.”

“What is life without a little tomfoolery, Lila?” one of the men, Sir Somerset, said. His comment earned him a small glare from Lord Withersworth, who probably didn’t want to rile his wife up further than necessary.

“It is many things, Sir Somerset,” Lady Withersworth replied sternly. “Calm being one of them.”

Scarlett could tell the woman wasn’t actually angry. She seemed accustomed to this group and their interactions with her and her husband. Maybe she even enjoyed it, despite her complaints? Scarlett had to admit that the behavior of this gathering of men aligned with the image she already had of the married couple.

One of the group, Lord Fitzroy, cleared his throat and everybody’s attention shifted to him. “To perhaps bring the discussion back to the topic at hand… Lady Withersworth, you mentioned that the Baroness is the one responsible for our esteemed friend here finally getting some good sleep at night, correct? Could it perhaps be that she was the one who resolved that terrible haunting matter that he always spoke of?”

“She is indeed.”

The men each exchanged impressed looks upon hearing that. It seemed as if they were already aware of Abelard’s mansion.

Dean Godwin, in particular, was studying Scarlett with an inquisitive expression. “It just so happens that I had met with your father several times as well,” the man said, and she felt a slight pressure from his gaze. “In fact, I would even go as far as to have called Castor an acquaintance of mine. He was an impressive mage for his age, considering all his other responsibilities. We had unfortunately not spoken for some years when I learned of his passing, but it was regretful news nonetheless. When we last met, he had told me he had a daughter that showed great potential as a mage. I took it as the simple boasting of a parent about their child, but if you did indeed succeed in addressing the issue with that old mansion, it appears as if I should perhaps have paid more attention to his words back then.”

Scarlett’s throat tightened as old feelings churned up inside her. Anger, disgust, and jealousy washed over her like a tidal wave, and she had to focus to maintain her facade of calm.

She knew exactly where these emotions came from.

“…While I appreciate the praise, my father was likely not referring to me when he made those comments,” she pressed out. She was relatively sure she managed to keep an unaffected tone to her voice. “My sister always displayed more promise as a traditional mage, so I believe he was speaking of her.”

“Truly?” The man raised both eyebrows.

Lady Withersworth observed Scarlett closely from the side, though she didn’t have the time to decipher the reason behind that look as the Dean continued.

“Well, putting that aside—” The man clapped his hands together. “It is still an impressive feat, I must say. It is somewhat humbling to admit, but I once attempted to deal with that cursed place myself, albeit unsuccessfully. There’s much to be said about Abelard and his actions in the past, but one cannot deny that he was an artificer without peer. His mastery of spatial transportation and gateways alone is something that most mages today would give their right hand to study.”

He turned to Lord Withersworth. “Speaking of which, I had intended to inquire about the possibility of investigating the mansion now that its seals are no longer present.”

Lord Withersworth coughed into his hand, glancing around the room. “Of course, I will consider it, but perhaps there is a better time for this discussion. And there is no need to mention his name aloud. Besides—” He gestured towards Scarlett. “I have learned that the Baroness already took nearly everything of any value from the mansion. She also just so happened to keep the keys that activated what was apparently a gateway to the mansion hidden in my cellars, so I do not know how much there is to be learned from what is left. None of the people I have employed have yet been able to decipher much thus far.”

Scarlett finally managed to get a better grip on the emotions that had risen up as she looked to him.

That’s right. She had almost forgotten that she still had the two [Abelard’s Doll Mansion Keys] that activated the portal to the mansion. The man had never asked for them back, so she hadn’t even thought about it after clearing the place. Lord Withersworth had basically given her ownership of anything in the mansion, which kind of included the keys, so…

Dean Godwin turned back to Scarlett. “Then perhaps we can have a discussion, Baroness?”

“I am sure we can come to an understanding,” she said. “I have already had previous transactions with the Elystead Tower regarding similar matters.”

“I had heard as much from Mendenhall. Things have been rather busy while I’ve been gone, it seems.” A slight frown appeared on the man’s brow. “Not all of it good.”

“It is all rather foreboding,” Lord Montague remarked in a somber tone. But the gravity behind his words quickly dissipated as he patted Godwin on the shoulder with another laugh. “But somehow I doubt even that will be enough to prevent you from disappearing on another of your little adventures within a month or two. You half-scared one of my servants to death when you simply appeared in my lounge this time with no prior warning of your return. One can’t help but pity those subordinates of yours and wonder what exactly it is you do all the time.”

“I could enlighten you, if you so wish,” the Dean responded with a friendly expression. “Of course, you would first have to enter into a magical pact to not speak of it with anyone else, including that brother of yours. Say, how is the Dean of Steepmond Tower these days?”

The other man grimaced. “Perhaps not, then. Decades have passed, yet I still have nightmares about dining on nothing but slugs and insects for months on end. I can’t even look at frogs without shivering to this day.”

Scarlett eyed Godwin. Had he turned the man into a frog somehow? It sounded like something an archmage might be capable of, but it also seemed too absurd.

“Hmph. That is what you get when you break your word,” Lord Withersworth said. “I still say he should have let you remain like that forever. More sense came out of your mouth during that period than the rest of your life combined, if you ask me.”

Scarlett blinked.

Apparently, it was true.

Lord Montague shook his head. “Harsh as ever, Withersworth.”

“I speak nothing but the truth.”

Lady Withersworth let out a disbelieving sound at that. “If you speak nothing but the truth, then I have to wonder who it is I see before me. You certainly aren’t any husband of mine, I can tell you that much.”

“Woman, tell me one time I have spoken a lie!”

“You said you would not drink and waste away your time tonight.”

“What?! That is an entirely different matter—”

As the couple descended into the type of light bickering that seemed to be characteristic of their marriage, their son seemed to look on in a mix of amusement and embarrassment before turning to Scarlett. “You will have to excuse them, Lady Hartford. Mother and Father stopped caring about propriety the moment they retired from most of high society.”

She held up a hand to show she didn’t take any offense. “It is quite all right. I have come to realize that this is simply the way they interact.”

Reymond lowered his head to her in gratitude, then looked back at his parents briefly. “I think I will take my leave for now. Both my wife and son will be waiting for me. I hope we meet again.”

“So do I.”

The man said his goodbyes to the group of older gentlemen and his parents—who said they would find him again later—before leaving.

While Lady and Lord Withersworth continued their argument—if it could be called that—Dean Godwin shifted his attention back to Scarlett.

“Baroness, if I may, there is a question I wanted to ask you.”

She looked at him. “Is it related to Abelard’s mansion?”

He shook his head. “No, no. That can be left for another time. What I was curious about now concerns something entirely different.”

“And what is that?”

Suddenly, their surroundings turned quiet. Lady Withersworth’s mouth continued moving as she spoke to her husband, but no sound reached Scarlett.

Godwin peered at her with an intense gaze. “I would like to know what connection you have to the Hallowed Cabal.”