“I know some people like that, too,” Grace said airily.
Theo was just about to say something back when Frannie let out a gasp.
“Earnest!” she said.
A gush of bright, red blood was running from Earnest’s nose.
He reached up to touch it with his hand, as if surprised.
“You’re bleeding!” Frannie cried.
“I recognize that, Frannie,” he said calmly.
Drip.It fell from his nose to the tablecloth, where it bloomed like a grotesque flower. Or a bullet hole.
Hurriedly, Grace pulled a handkerchief from her pocketbook and handed it to him.
His fingers brushed hers as he took it.
“Blast,” he said, holding the handkerchief to his nose. “This hasn’t happened to me since I was a kid. I’m so sorry.”
“Please, don’t apologize,” Grace said. “Just take care of yourself.”
“Oh, no, I insist—doesn’t every lady like a little blood with her breakfast?”
Grace laughed. “No. But I do love a man who can keep me guessing,” she said.
“I’m mortified.”
He was suddenly so shy and embarrassed, and she found it charming. She would take a man like this over a pompous ass like Theodore any day.
“Just keep holding pressure,” Lillie said, moving to help him. “Yes, like that. There you go.”
“Thank you,” Earnest said, looking up at her. “This is very kind of you.”
“Lillie, darling, I had no idea you were good with blood,” Oliver said.
Lillie’s eyebrow faintly twitched.
“One of us has to be good in an emergency,” she said breezily. “And it certainly isn’t going to be Mother. Or you.”
“It’s true, I faint dead away at the sight of blood,” Oliver said. “And I inherited that trait straight from her. That and her adorable little nose.”
“Earnest,” Frannie hissed. “Are you quite under control now?”
Her face was flushed, and a dark part of Grace was pleased that the attention Frannie had tried to direct toward Grace’s brother had suddenly shifted to her own.
“You might want to put your head between your legs, dearest brother,” Lillie said to Oliver. “You’re looking a little green.”
“Nothing a little breakfast ice cream can’t fix,” Oliver said, tossing enough money on the table to cover the entire bill. “My treat, Earnest. Perhaps a cold ice-cream headache will fix that nosebleed right up. Onward!”
Earnest stood, the nosebleed abated. He clutched Grace’s handkerchief at his side, still offering apologies.
She tried not to notice the way that crimson had darkened the delicate monogram her mother had stitched into the hem, creeping along the ivory lace like an ominous shadow.
Under the striped awning of the cart, Grace insisted on paying for her own ice cream.
She felt Theodore Parker’s imposing stare, with his perfectly tailored three-piece suit, gloves, and cane. Her cotton and lace dress might have belonged to Lillie, but her treat was rich with cream and a hint of peppermint, and it tasted even sweeter knowing that she had bought it herself.
