Dorothea and Priscilla remained in the corridor, to offer instruction as needed. “Are you ready, Augusta?” Dorothea called.
“Of course I’m ready,” said Augusta. “The question is whether Zoe is.”
They had closed one side of the double doors leading into the large drawing room so that Zoe could practice maneuvering through a more confined space.
She brought her elbows down to compress the hoops, as Priscilla had shown her. Then she concentrated on the route she meant to take to Augusta, took a deep breath, and sailed over the threshold at the same instant Dorothea cried, “Zoe, wait! The train!”
Too late.
Zoe’s foot tangled in the forgotten train, and down she went. She let go of the hoops and put her hands out to break her fall. The hoops sprang out as she went down face foremost onto the carpet, and the gown billowed up around her.
She heard the snort behind her, but she was preoccupied with determining the simplest and quickest method of getting upright unaided. The corset required her to bend from the hips. After a quick mental survey of the options, she pressed her hands into the carpet and pushed herself up onto all fours. Then, hands still braced on the carpet, she lifted her bottom into the air while she straightened her legs. She carefully walked her hands back as close to her feet as she could, then angled her spine upright.
Another, louder snort came from behind her, then a bark of laughter. Deep, masculine laughter.
She turned toward the doorway, where Marchmont stood, one hand braced against the door frame while he laughed.
And laughed.
And laughed.
Tears streamed down his face.
He shook his head and composed himself. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his face. Having erased all signs of mirth from his face, he walked into the room and sat in a chair. Her two younger sisters broke into giggles. He made a strangled sound, then exploded into laughter. Then they were all laughing, even Augusta.
“Do you know,” Zoe said to the room at large, “that is much more difficult than it looks?”
“Falling on your face?” said Marchmont. “But you make it look s-so easy.” And off he went into whoops.
During this one unguarded moment, Zoe could watch him, and she did, utterly bemused. Something had happened, and she wasn’t sure what. The world had changed somehow. Or perhaps something in her mind had changed or a key had turned in a keyhole, unlocking something hidden away and forgotten.
Then, as his laughter began to subside, she saw what it was.
This is he, she thought.This is the boy I used to know. This is Lucien.
The moment passed and the green eyes shuttered, but she could still discern the amusement glinting there.
“The Birthday Drawing Room will prove more entertaining, I suspect, than some might wish,” he said.
“I shall not embarrass you,” Zoe said.
“Oh, nothing embarrasses him,” said Gertrude. “Never fear for that. It’s the rest of us who’ll be mortified. It’s Mama who’ll be there, humiliated.”
“She will not be humiliated,” Zoe said. “I won’t fall. I’ll learn everything. If I can learn to dance in veils without killing myself, I can learn to get through a door wearing hoops.”
She became acutely conscious of his slitted green gaze. She knew he was either picturing what was under the hooped petticoat or imagining her dancing in veils. She glanced down at his hands and remembered yesterday. Her skin had memorized every place where those hands had touched her. Every one of those places tingled. In the airy space under the hooped petticoat, her Palace of Delight tingled, too.
“I’d always thought the Dance of the Seven Veils was a myth,” he said.
“It isn’t,” Zoe said. “It’s very beautiful and arousing to men—well, not to Karim, but then,nothingaroused him.”
Not like you, she thought. The trouble was, she’d thought of him in that way far too much. She really needed to meet other men.
“That is an unsuitable topic of conversation,” said Augusta, who’d quickly regained her normal pomposity.
“You had better go away, Marchmont,” said Gertrude. “You do not take this seriously, and you are a bad influence.”
“Zoe can practice her gymnastics later,” said Marchmont. “I must mount her.”
