“Indeed I did, the incorrigible scamp,” Virginia replied with a smile. “Do you ever wish you had been born a bird so that you could soar over Cressmouth and gaze down upon its beauty from high above the rooftops?”
“I must confess the idea had not occurred to me.” Noelle fell into step beside her dear friend. Virginia often spoke as if she were in the midst of a half-remembered dream. She was as likely to look for answers in the palm of one’s hands than in the pages of a book.
“Can you believe he’s gone?” Virginia asked.
Noelle shook her head. Mr. Marlowe had been the heart and soul of Cressmouth. “The town won’t be the same without our leader.”
Virginia’s voice grew distant. “We are all leaders. Each sparrow takes its turn against the winds in order to guide and protect the others.”
That… was an extremely Virginia thing to say. Her frequent aphorisms were one of the many reasons Mr. Marlowe had employed her as his personal advisor. Virginia’s methods might be odd, but she was indisputably clever.
Noelle plucked a black cat hair from her friends puffed sleeve. “Did you see theotherduke?”
Virginia’s quick eyes locked on hers. “Your duke?”
“Not my duke,” Noelle said quickly. “He belongs to London.”
“He belongs to England, and England is part of us all,” Virginia amended, her tone pensive.
Usually, Virginia’s unusual perspective brought nothing but good cheer. Today, however, her words made Noelle’s heart hurt. She was uncertain what was more upsetting, the idea that Silkridge still belonged to her a little, or that he belonged to everyone else just as much.
“Do you know where they put him?” she asked quietly. “Is he here in this wing?”
Virginia shook her head. “He was placed on the wrong floor. The maid who arranged a guest chamber for him did not realize he already had a dedicated room somewhere on this wing.”
The last door on the left, to be precise.
Noelle wished she did not remember how she had thrown herself into his path time and time again all those years ago. Her cheeks heated in mortification. She would never again allow herself to behave so rashly.
“Was he upset?” she asked.
“Is a possum upset when it rains?” Virginia answered, trailing her fingers lightly on the balustrade as they descended the stairs.
Noelle blinked. “I have no idea.”
“Neither do I,” Virginia mused. “I should pay more attention.”
“Watch your step,” Noelle cautioned her. “Pay attention to the stairs.”
“It doesn’t matter if the maid’s mistake upset Silkridge,” Virginia decided.
That was an unusual sentiment. Noelle raised her brows. “Because he turned his back on the town and never returned?”
“Because it’s already morning, and too late to undo. We may be deeply embarrassed for the castle staff to have treated Mr. Marlowe’s grandson like an ordinary guest, but he will be gone in a few hours and no doubt has already put the incident out of his mind.”
The only thing Noelle was deeply embarrassed about was the probability that Virginia was right.
Silkridge had put Noelle and the entire town out of his mind easily enough once before. It would take him no time at all to do so again. Her stomach twisted. She tried to shake off her disillusionment.
There was no reason for her heart to feel clutched in ice at the idea of being forgotten again within the week. She knew his inevitable dismissal was coming. That was why she needed to avoid him at all costs. It would not feel as though he were abandoning her a second time if she was the one who kept him at bay.
He wanted to be gone. She wanted him gone. For once, they were in agreement.
“Silkridge looked quite dashing yesterday,” Virginia said. “Didn’t you think he cut a fine figure?”
“I didn’t notice,” Noelle said quickly. She could recall every stitch, every smirk, every anti-Christmas comment from memory. And she had done so all night long.
“It was the top hat,” Virginia decided. “The way it was so perfect, sooty black with a dusting of snow upon the rim, set at just the right rakish angle. Or perhaps it was his cravat. Have you ever seen a knot so intricate? Both elements drew the eye to his face, which I must say is no hardship to gaze upon. Eyes as blue as a great crown crane, cheekbones as—”
