Page 30 of My Fae Lady

Twelve

Giselle

⊱❀⊰

Declaring a duke legally dead was an exciting occasion. The courtroom was filled to the brim by the time we arrived, with only the first row—reserved for the duke’s family—having any space available. I nodded at Douglas, who sat with a few of my other cousins on the bench on the left side of the aisle, and followed Sylvan to the right. We had the entire bench to ourselves.

The murmurings of the crowd lessened when the judge entered the room. Matherson was a wrinkled, portly man who was probably bald under his powdered wig. He took his seat, lifted his gavel, and then looked over everyone in his courtroom. He paused a moment longer when his gaze reached me, his grim expression darkening further. Only after the whispers had already died completely did he slam the gavel against the brass plate and call everyone to order.

Then the judge introduced the case. Within the first sentence, I knew Matherson was the type of man who loved to hear himself speak. He used as many words as possible to convey the least meaning. I folded my hands in my lap and bided my time.

Douglas thought I was here to contest his attempt to declare Father dead. Judge Matherson was ready to declare my testimony of no value. But neither of them were prepared for the actual argument I would make.

Finally, the judge reached the point. “And if he is decreed dead, his heir, Lord Douglas Barton, will immediately inherit his title and estates, including Plantagaia and Alswood in Alidra and the Faerie estates of Hidden Spires, Silverfell, and Rook Manor.”

“Pardon, Your Honor,” I said as demurely as possible. “Rook Manor is not part of the inheritance.”

I could feel the weight of Sylvan’s gaze, though I kept my eyes trained on the polished wood in front of the judge. The Unseelie was probably wondering what in the goddesses’ lands could make me meek. He still didn’t understand that playing along allowed a person behind their enemy’s guard. Half this battle was already won because Douglas underestimated me.

My cousin slapped a hand against his thigh. “It’s been seven years, Giselle. Of course your father is . . .” He trailed off, blinking at me when he realized I hadn’t protested declaring Father dead. “Wait, what did you say?”

“I said Rook Manor is not a part of the inheritance. It was my dowry, you’ll recall.”

“Uncle Percival might have intended for you to receive the manor, but with him gone, the entire estate is mine to do with as I wish.” Douglas’s lips turned up in a parody of a smile. “Don’t worry, though, Cousin. I’ll make sure you still have a dowry should anyone finally decide they want to marry you.”

Sylvan leaned past me, his chest brushing my arm as he glared at Douglas. “Rook Manor is mine.”

Thank the goddesses that we were still in public, or I might have had to kiss that insufferable fae and tell him he was amazing. He was saying exactly what I couldn’t. The arrogance and possessive fury that would be condemned in a lady were perfect coming from him.

Douglas gaped. “Who in the darkness are you?”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” I wrapped my arm around Sylvan’s and smiled at my cousin. “Did I forget to introduce you? Cousin Douglas, this is Lord Sylvan. My husband.”

“The Lord of Rook Manor,” Sylvan added, his sharp teeth flashing.

“Can they do that?” asked Douglas’s younger brother, Reginald, his eyes darting between us, his brother, and the judge.

“Of course not.” Douglas glared at Sylvan. “Giselle does not have the authority to give part of the estate away.”

I deemed it time for another diffident observation, though I’d much rather have shouted that Rook Manor was more mine than Douglas’s or my father’s and had been for decades. I was the one who spent all my time puzzling out why the manor’s magic was failing and looking for solutions. I was the one who cared about House and was cared for in return. It wasn’t Douglas—or even father—whose tastes and habits influenced the sentience controlling Rook Manor.

I met the judge’s gaze for a split second, then looked down. “Father signed the documents detailing my dowry decades ago. As he has not been declared dead yet, the terms went into effect the instant I married.”

Reginald jumped to his feet. “But you weren’t married! You’ve never shown any interest in marrying!”

Matherson slammed his gavel against the brass plate on his bench, and my excitable cousin dropped back down. After a warning look at Reginald, the judge stared at Sylvan, taking in his impeccable attire and haughty attitude. His brow furrowed. “The matter of the estate of Rook Manor requires further consideration. The affected parties will reconvene in one hour in my chambers after I’ve had time to inspect the certificate of marriage, which will be delivered to my bailiff immediately. The court is adjourned.”

With a final whack of his gavel, Judge Matherson rose and made his way out his private door, leaving Douglas with no one to face but Sylvan and me.

My cousin crossed the aisle and blocked our exit, not that we had even stood yet. Sylvan rose and stepped past me, and I took perverse pleasure in noticing he was tall enough to loom over Douglas. I stayed seated. If I stood, I’d be stuck behind the fae, unable to see any of the coming exchange, let alone step in if needed.

Douglas’s jaw dropped. “You’re Unseelie!”

Sylvan must have shown his fangs. Well, he had played the part of a proper gentleman at the most critical moment. I wouldn’t mind having fangs or talons to show Douglas at this moment, either.

“And you’re a lily-livered dandy boy,” Sylvan snarled. “If all you are here for is to point out the obvious, then get out of the way. I want my supper, or I might decide to revert to old habits and snack on mortals.”

Douglas spluttered, then finally looked down at me. “Giselle, you cannot have actually married this . . . this . . .”