“And now Benedict does know, and he says he cares nothing about it,” she added. “I suppose you might be worried that he is fickle, jumping from me to you, but that is not who he is. Think of it this way, he had to meet me to find you.”
“Thatisrather romantic I suppose,” Penelope replied, resting her chin lightly on her folded arms.
“Don’t overthink what will be, Elly,” Alice soothed her. “We are to visit the fair tomorrow, and I want you to enjoy yourself, not worry. Not even with that disaster that took place last night.”
“That might be rather difficult,” Penelope replied, wrinkling her nose as her gaze flicked to the newspaper Alice had made a poor attempt to conceal on her lap, “I am certain, by now, it is on the tongue of everybody who is somebody in town.”
CHAPTER 27
The fairgrounds were remarkably organized and well-kept, with paved walkways winding gracefully between the grand tents and bustling stalls. Men and women tended carts laden with sticky, sweet confections, their sugary aromas swirling in the summer air.
There was no end to the spectacle before her eyes; wherever Alice turned, some wonder awaited. To her right, strolling musicians filled the air with lively strains from double drums, tambourines, violins, and pipes. To her left, a troupe of tumblers twisted and turned, while posture-masters balanced with near-impossible grace.
“Gadzooks! Is that a dancing bear?” Penelope clutched Alice’s arm in wide-eyed astonishment.
“Bizarrely, it is,” Benedict replied, his voice smooth, entirely unruffled by the dozens of onlookers who shamelessly gawked at him. His gaze, however, remained fixed on the bear. “I do wonder how they trained it to perform such a thing.”
They paused to watch the bear now as it turned a few good somersaults and danced to the bagpipes. His companions were some little dogs dressed in red jackets, and a monkey that occasionally hopped atop the bear’s back.
“Something about this feels rather… unkind,” Penelope murmured, her soft brows knitting. The deep blue of her walking dress set off the fair strands of her hair, artfully swept atop her head in a chignon.
“It is all unfair,” Benedict replied, voice calm but edged with a touch of cynicism. “But many would justify it under the belief that God Himself granted them dominion over all creation.”
They drifted further into the fair, past a cluster of men expertly hurling knives—some even blindfolded. Alice sucked in a breath as the blades struck their marks with chilling precision.
“If you pardon my asking,” she ventured, adjusting the brim of her leghorn bonnet, “how is His Grace managing with all these… whispers?”
Benedict chuckled softly. “Edward could not be less concerned if the rumors were hand-delivered to him on a silver platter. My brother is a master of indifference—unless, of course, it involves his men, his dog Atticus, or me.”
I may be on that list.
“That’s good to hear,” she smiled thinly. “I know how cruel the denizens of your class can be.”
“I am perfectly aware,” Benedict tipped his head. “The ton is a world of glamorous elegance and lavish extravagance, but an ugly fickleness and an unforgiving nature lies at its underbelly.”
They neared a broad wooden structure where puppets danced, and the puppeteer told a story of a warrior and the princess he protected. The epic battle between the warrior and the enemy king was one that had her shocked by the level of sophistication the storyteller had.
At the end, she clapped with the rest of the spectators and dropped a coin in the bucket before moving on.
“Where is he these days?” she asked, knowing to keep her questions short and casual; she could not say anything to spark suspicion.
“Haggling with the stubborn lords at Westminster,” Benedict shrugged. “That is a job I do not envy and one that I am actively dreading to take over when he does pass the torch to me.”
The reminder that Edward was set on leaving England—and her—behind made her already upset stomach tumultuous like waves in the throes of a storm.
Though her pulse thudded, Alice drew her shoulders back.Don’t be a faint-hearted ninny.Think of Penelope and everything that is at stake.
“I am sure you will do fine,” she said. “From what I do know of His Grace, he’ll prepare you for everything coming your way.”
“Oh, oh, my lord,” Penelope hopped on her feet, excitement rippling over her face. She reached for him and tugged him toward a wide wooden pool with painted wooden fish bobbing in the waters. “If we hook five by the time that weight drops to the ground, we get a prize.”
“Lovely,” Benedict smiled widely. “Shall we fish then, my lady?”
While the two moved to take their places, Alice felt her attention drawn to a large tent that advertised the House of Mirrors.
A combination of lamps and sunlight-letting mesh openings in the fabric canopy illuminated the interior of the tent. Nevertheless, the room felt hot and restricting. Many of the precisely positioned mirrors were twisted to make the observer appear larger or fatter than they were, creating a bewildering—and upsetting—illusion.
She meandered to one where her reflection stretched her needle-thin but her head was a bulbous egg, and another that rendered her shorter than the end table in her bedroom.
