He was solid and shrewd and literal. He felt even more solid and shrewd and literal around Dot. He sensed she saw the world more vividly, more richly, than he ever could. And because he was proud and intelligent, he had begun to believe the way she experienced things was something he could never quite comprehend. This had begun to get under his skin.
“Well, it’s brave of you to want to conjure a genie. But then again, you weren’t afraid of ghosts, either, when you knocked me right down in the kitchen.”
“Thank you. I suppose I might be a little brave. Although that is not a moment I am proud of, Mr. Pike, so perhaps you will consider not mentioning it so often,” she said with great dignity.
He smiled at this. “Fair enough. Forgive me. It’s just that it’s one of the more memorable moments of my life so far.”
This made her smile. She had two dimples, and her cheeks made charming little apples when she smiled.
“Have you ever considered,” he ventured hesitantly, “that one of the main reasons I want to open the door at night is to keep you safe from harm? As well as everyone else?”
Her eyes flared.
“Oh,” she breathed, thoughtfully. She paused. “I see.” She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
He nodded once, shortly. Pressed his lips together.
They regarded each other from across the foyer.
“What would you wish for, Dot, if you did find a genie?” he asked softly. It suddenly seemed important to know.
She tipped her head and studied him somberly. If he’d had a wish right now, he would have used it to learn what was going on behind those eyes.
“I’d wish... that The Grand Palace on the Thames had two front doors. So you could open one, and I could open the other.”
He stared at her. “Oh, forGod’s—”
His head went back on a gusty sigh, and he spun on his heel away from her mischievous little smile to go to report to the infinitely more sensible Mrs. Hardy and Mrs. Durand.
Catherine slowly rotated beneath the chandelier at The Grand Palace on the Thames, the crystals sprinkling tiny rainbows over her like a blessing while Mrs. Hardy, Mrs. Durand, and Mrs. Pariseau stood around her, hands clasped beneath their chins in admiration.
“You are just beautiful, my dear,” Mrs. Pariseau assured her. “The dress wasmeantfor you.”
“You look like a princess!” Angelique exclaimed.
“A crown would be redundant,” Delilah agreed.
But not one of those women envied Catherine, because they had each been in her place before. They didn’t miss balls. They didn’t miss husband hunting. They remembered the nerves, the uncertainty, the joy, the judgment, the hopes raised and crushed. Theywished her the very best of luck from the bottom of their womanly hearts.
Lady Wisterberg and Lucy came to collect her, and they at last were off to the Shillingford ball.
Plumley. Seacombe. Leffingwell. Marbrooke. Vaughn. Holroyd. Gunston. Vaughn again.
Catherine had surrendered her dance card to Lady Wisterberg, who had examined it like a professor reviewing a pupil’s exam, her eyes glinting.
“Vaughn twice! That young man is charmed,” she declared. “Andhe at last responded to our invitation. He’ll be attending our party! With hisparents.”
Catherine’s heart gave a jump.
Privately, Catherine thought the young man—Lord Vaughn—sensed her ambivalence and found her a safe dancing partner. Like a cat who excels at finding the one person in the room who doesn’t want a cat in their lap.
Or perhaps he had a sixth sense for detecting which females knew what it was like to have a man’s clothed erection pressed against them in the dark of a carriage.
Tonight when footmen holding aloft lit torches led Catherine and Lucy and Lady Wisterberg into the Shillingford mansion on Grosvenor Square—a vast white marble edifice, featuring enormous columns and gilt and crystal glinting everywhere in the corners of her eyes—Catherine decided:I would indeed enjoy this, if this was part of my regular life. I think I might take to being a countess. I could throw fancy parties, and insist all the ladies wear dresses that were two years old or older. Ha!
If she nurtured this thought, really savored it, she could convince herself it was what she wanted. It was how habits were formed, after all.
And then perhaps it would, in fact, beallshe wanted.