“I’m terribly sorry about this,” Artemisia said, arranging her shawl around herself. “Thank you for being so gracious in seeing me off.”

“It’s no trouble to me!” Countess Selwyn kissed Artemisia on each cheek before stepping back. “It was a privilege that you were able to attend at all, my dear Artemisia – oh! Apologies, I did not mean to be so casual. I hope you do not mind.”

“No, not at all. You are too kind, Countess.” Artemisia turned to step into the carriage. “Please, head back inside before the readings resume.”

“Get home safely!” The countess made her way back up the stairs, pausing at the top as a figure emerged from the front door.

“Artemisia!”

“Hm?”

A young woman came flying down the steps, her dark green hair falling out of a once carefully arranged hairstyle. “Arte! Were you really going to leave without at least greeting me?!”

Oh no. This must be one of Artemisia’s friends. And when I have nobody to fall back on – this is the worst possible situation!

Artemisia chuckled nervously. “Sorry, I’m really not feeling that well. I’ll speak to you another time…”

“Wait!” The woman screeched to a halt at the bottom of the steps, sending gravel flying in all directions. She seemed close to tears. “Don’t be so cold, Artemisia! Was I too brusque in my letter? What have I done wrong?”

“I…” What made you come to the conclusion that it’s a problem on your end?! Artemisia reached out a hand to pat the poor woman on the shoulder, but drew it back. “You’ve done nothing wrong. I’m… still recovering, that’s all.”

The woman didn’t look convinced, but at least she no longer seemed only a cruel word away from crying. “Truly?”

Artemisia forced a pale smile. “Truly.”

I want to leave! I’m going to die of awkwardness!

“Ah.” The woman drew back, raising a hand to her cheek. She was blushing slightly, and Artemisia assumed she had also realised how embarrassing this whole situation was.

“You know you’re welcome to visit,” Artemisia said impulsively. “Come by anytime. I’m well enough to have visitors now.”

The woman’s eyes sparkled. “Artemisia! How sweet of you!”

Oh god, is she going to hug me? Why is she so… emotional?!

“Well, see you soon then,” Artemisia said quickly, almost throwing herself into the carriage. “Goodbye!”

“Oh, ah, goodbye!”

The carriage driver took Artemisia’s cue and urged the horses on. As the carriage made its way out of the Selwyn estate, Artemisia allowed herself to relax, slumping on the seats and abandoning all sense of decorum. She allowed herself to finally panic.

How did I survive that? I want to sleep for a thousand years!

Her head in her hands, she allowed herself to spend the next few minutes over-analysing every single interaction, running over all the different ways she could have acted or spoke. Then she smacked her cheeks with her hands, poked her head out of the small carriage window, and shouted out to the groom.

“Take me home via Fernstal! I have an appointment!”

The groom slowed the horses and leaned back. “Fernstal, my lady? At this time of night?”

“Yes! It’s important!” Artemisia hoped the groom could see her glare even in the dark.

“As you say, my lady!”

Artemisia climbed out of the carriage before the groom had a chance to leap down and offer his assistance. “Stay here. I won’t be long.”

“Of course, my lady.” The groom cast a wistful glance towards the inn before going to check on the horses.

I’m sure this would be a beautiful place in the day, but there’s nothing to see at night without street-lamps. Light poured from the open windows and door of the inn, and a sign picturing a sprawling oak led Artemisia to believe she was in the right place. She readjusted her cloak, squared her shoulders, and marched towards the inn.

Inside, the main room was low-ceilinged and was paved with flagstones, the haze of tobacco smoke floating above the inhabitants’ heads. Most of these inhabitants seemed to be farmers of some sort or another by their dress, and each one of them turned to look at Artemisia as she stepped in.

She looked around for Georgio, expecting him to stick out like a sore thumb, but he was nowhere to be seen. What she did see was a lot of people wondering what in the world a high-class woman like her was doing in a common inn on a seemingly insignificant autumn evening.

The innkeeper bustled over. “Excuse me, miss, may I help you?”

“I’m meeting someone,” Artemisia replied. “Is this everyone here tonight?”

The innkeeper looked her up and down, absent-mindedly rubbing his hands on his apron. “Now that you mention it, there is a young gentleman in the private parlour through there. Would you like me to give him your name?”

“No, that will be him. I’ll see him immediately.” Artemisia headed towards the door the innkeeper had indicated. The man looked like he was about to stop her, before turning back to the rest of the room with a low mumble of “bloody nobles.”

The private parlour was a much smaller room, with long thin windows and a large fireplace – the only source of light – at one side of the room, framed by a pair of ratty-looking armchairs. In one of them lounged a young man, his legs propped up on a footstool. He was picking at his teeth with a toothpick, but the moment Artemisia entered the room he threw the toothpick into the fire and stumbled to his feet.

“My dearest one!” he cried, and Artemisia had to stop herself from flinching. Luckily, Georgio seemed to take her grimace as a pleased smile. “How wonderful it is to see you in the flesh! Come, sit!”

In as dignified a manner as she could manage, Artemisia perched on the edge of the free armchair. Georgio sat back down and resumed his relaxed position. He was fairly handsome, with soft dirty-blond hair and a clear eye for fashion in his blue suit and subtly-embroidered cravat, but there was something unattractive about him, in the way his eyes took her in and the leer of his smile. He looked like a cat who had got the cream and was planning on announcing it from the rooftops.

“What a quaint little place,” Artemisia said, oozing discomfort that was half-acting and half-truth.

Step one of putting him off: act coldly towards him. That won’t be difficult.