After the fight he followed Julianna to a drawing-room, it was a small bright room, the noon sun beaming through the large arched windows and several plush sofas surrounding a table.

Quenton looked at the table with interest, numerous flowers were laid out along with ribbons. He recognized gillyflowers, violets, lilies, carnations, hydrangea, and oddly wolfsbane, belladonna, and foxglove.

“I thought it might be pleasing to do a bit of flower arranging,” Julianna said, gesturing to the table. “It is nearly autumn, after all, soon enough the flowers will wilt. Best to enjoy them now.”

Quenton picked up a yellow carnation and twirled it. He didn’t know much about flower arrangements, though he knew a bit about flowers. He figured he’d put what looked good together and go from there.

Quenton seated himself on the sofa and watched Camilla as she began humming while combining flowers. She placed a foxglove next to a yellow carnation.

Julianna looked curiously at Camilla’s bouquet. “That’s quite a message.” She murmured. “Foxglove for dishonesty and yellow carnations for cowardice?”

“I am making a bouquet for dear Rosalind,” Camilla explained, a small sharp smile on her face.

So the flowers have meanings. They seemed to be based on both type and color. Hoping to get lucky he picked up a few red flowers and arranged them with the blooms sticking out before tying them with a white ribbon.

Camilla raised an eyebrow and smiled slyly. “Why sister, that’s an awfully forward arrangement. Who’s caught your eye?” She asked.

Quenton squirmed and looked at the apparently romantic bouquet. “No one really, I’m merely practicing.” He explained hastily.

Julianna hummed, her bouquet was similar to Quenton’s own, mostly red and pink. “I believe I shall send mine to Lord Eastwood. My mother has been in talks with his family, you see.” She said, her voice buoyant but eyes downcast.

Quenton listened in, curious to hear about his friend’s prospects and to see if there was an opportunity for the Morays.

“Lord Eastwood would make for an experienced husband, I must say. He’s been widowed twice before, isn’t that so?” Camilla asked, cocking her head like a curious bird.

Julianna nodded. “That is true, Lady Camilla.” She said, still affecting cheer.

“I hear he’s nearly seventy years old, he will surely have much to teach you, supposing the match goes through.” The sneer in Camilla’s voice belying her words.

“I do not make much of his age, it shouldn’t matter whether he is seventeen or seventy, my duties as a wife remain the same.” Julianna insisted.

Camilla hummed. “Of course, Lady Julianna. I hope Lord Eastwood and yourself happy nuptials.”

Julianna sighed. “It’s far from that point yet, my mother has only just made the first offer.” She looked at Quenton, her face troubled.

“Mind, my mother and father wish this to be a swift proposal, so my circumstances could be…be quickly changed. Considering my families’ current troubles I would not begrudge any distance you felt the need to put between us.” She said, her words beginning to tremble and her eyes gleaming.

She’s probably talking about the scandalous sister again. He was leery to do anything to further jeopardize the Moray family name and he didn’t know the full details of Julianna’s sister yet still she was obviously vulnerable and obviously alone. She reminded him of himself back in the real world. He’d been unsure and desperate to belong, trying to find a place to belong only to face rejection again and again. What kind of person would he be if he left another person to face that fate alone.

Quenton took her hand as she drew near him. “Whatever your circumstances I will remain your friend.” He said sincerely. Julianna’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth only to swiftly shut it again.

Camilla tightly gripped his shoulder. “You are aware that her sister fled to marry a chauffeur. It’s no fault of Lady Julianna, but to stand with house Tufont is to risk dishonor on one’s own house.”

She looked at him shamefaced, her eyes watering. “Lady Camilla is correct. Moray is facing trouble enough without anchoring yourself to my family name. There’s already talk that Henwick and Ruteglen are ready to send the blades. I am…I am afraid that it might be better if we merely prepare for the worst and ensure that as few people as possible fall with us.”

“Since House Moray is in similar danger, wouldn’t it be better to stand together?” Quenton asked.

“You are…proposing a formal alliance then?” Julianna asked, her brows lifting in surprise.

Do I even have the authority to do that? Quenton thought, feeling a bit of trepidation at things getting official. “I am.” He said, figuring it was better to go all in.

“I-” Julianna began, abruptly closing her mouth as the door opened. A middle-aged man in a tawny suitcoat stepped through. He was a bit paunchy and he had the same mousy brown hair albeit balding as Julianna.

The man, Julianna’s father he guessed, looked over them with sunken glazed eyes. “Ah, the Ladies Moray, come to laugh at us, to cackle at the Tufont’s disgrace?” He asked belligerently.

Quenton shook his head quickly. “No, Lord Tufont. We just came to visit Lady Julianna.”

The man laughed hoarsely. “I’ll bet. Wanted to see if she was as shameful as her sister. Well, she won’t be, not whilst I live. You’re going to be a proper lady, isn’t that so?”

“Yes, father,” Julianna said quietly, avoiding their eyes.

“Lady Eastwood has designed to appear to us, you’re to go to her for a proper look over. She’s in the parlor with your mother, get going.”

Julianna hastily got to her feet. “Yes, father.” She turned to Quenton. “I…I shall be back soon, please feel free to ask the servants for anything you desire.” She said, before casting a wary glance at her father and scurrying out the door.

Tufont’s eyes met Quenton’s and his lip curled. “You’re the one who perturbed poor Lady Warwin, aren’t you?”

He nodded slowly, wary of the man.

“You will keep your distance from Julianna. I won’t have you sullying her reputation with your ill manners, do you understand?”

Camilla twirled a flower in her fingers, her face carefully blank and Quenton felt anger simmer in his chest. “Yes, Lord Tufont.” He said tightly. Having no intention of abiding by the words of some drunk control freak.

“Good.” The man said, spinning on his heel and leaving the door to slam behind him.

As the door shut. Camilla’s face twisted into a sneer. “The gall of a drunk to cast dishonor on Moray.” She clicked her tongue. “I must say I am most curious to see Lady Julianna’s examination, should be good for a lark. Care to spy with me, sister?”

Curiosity had piqued in his own mind, Seaver had told him some of the marriage rituals already but seeing it first hand would be better. Picking up Hop he followed Camilla up a set of stairs where they passed through a hall and paused just outside a dark wooden door.

Camilla held a finger to her lips before pressing her ear to the door, he did the same feeling only a bit of shame at spying on his friend.

“Well, she’s quite thick, isn’t she? An unfamiliar voice said. “Yes, most ungainly and dare I say, mannish.” The voice continued.

He winced. He could easily guess who was being talked about and he felt a pang of sympathy for Julianna. Seaver had told him the examination featured the female relatives of the suitor inspecting the bride and ensuring she had all the proper qualities, he hadn’t guessed it also included berating the possible bride.

There was a moment of silence before the voice continued. “I must see for certain that you’ve been properly educated. Are you properly learned in history, etiquette, arithmetic, faith, and the arts?”

“Yes, Lady Eastwood.” Julianna’s voice said faintly.

“We shall see. You have a rather dull look about you, but I am willing to give you a chance to prove otherwise.” Eastwood said haughtily.

“I assure you, Lady Eastwood, my Julianna is an avid learner. She is an adept student of etiquette and a talented musician, I might add.” A third voice, likely Lady Tufont chimed in.

He heard a loud, almost performative sniff. “Is that so? I will have that demonstrated after supper, I believe. Now, answer me truthfully for I will find later if you are lying, are you chaste?”

Quenton blushed sympathetically, his heart going out to poor Julianna. The woman had given her practically every form of insult and from what he knew of both marriage procedures and Julianna’s standing she’d be expected to take it.

“I am chaste, Lady Eastwood, I swear on the four,” Julianna said meekly.

“I have a mind to test that, but I suppose that procedure can wait. Now I am utterly famished, I’m afraid I missed luncheon in order to examine Lady Julianna.”

“Please, we would be honored to dine with you, Lady Eastwood,” Tufont said, followed by the ringing of a bell.

Camilla pulled him away from the door. “They’ll be a servant coming, let’s return to the drawing-room.” They padded as quickly and quietly as they could manage down the stairs and returned to their seats.

Quenton looked down at the floor, anger and secondhand embarrassment swirling inside.

“That’ll be us, presuming we are not killed first,” Camilla said blithely.

Quenton blinked at her. “I hope not.” She rolled her eyes and scritched Candle behind the ears.

“Families of our standing must properly grovel and scrape for our betters. Any one of us would be lucky to catch the eye of some withered graybeard with a fat purse.” She sighed. “You best get used to the prospect.”

Quenton hummed noncommittally and they sat in silence, Quenton stroking Hop as he dozed on his lap. After about half an hour Julianna came back to the hall, exhaustion clearly pressing down on her

Quenton schooled his face into one of curiosity. “Uh…Did it go alright?” He asked tentatively. Julianna nodded mutely before taking a seat, her face drawn.

Camilla opened her mouth only for Quenton to shoot her his sternest look and shake his head. Instead, he placed a careful hand on Julianna’s shoulder.

“You do not need to speak of it if you don’t want to, I just want to say that we’ll be here if you do. That’s what friends are for.” He said, catching Julianna’s gaze. Her eyes glistened with tears which she hastily wiped away.

“Thank you.” She murmured, clasping her hand in his. With her free hand, she offered him the bouquet she had made.

“I think I’d rather give this to you than Lord Eastwood.” She said softly.

Quenton accepted it with a smile.