The marble hall was brilliant with vibrant life. Excited voices seemed to bounce off the walls and return threefold, and the light from hundreds of candles blazed off crystal chandeliers. A servant took Genova’s outerwear, and it was certainly warm enough with so many people and so many candles, even though the grate was empty, awaiting the log.
She accepted a mug of mulled cider and warmed her hands on it, blocking all thoughts of what had happened out there, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off Ash.
He stood near the log, drinking, laughing, presumably debating how to get the log off its felt cloth and into the fireplace. He was so good at masking his feelings. It was probably the result of lifelong training for court, where a person wasn’t allowed to even sneeze. Of a life, as he’d said, lived on the edge.
How could she know the real man when he wore so many layers of artifice?
She knew, however, that at moments today he’d revealed the truth.
Damaris Myddleton, hovering near Ash, was not good at masking her feelings. Perhaps she was what he needed, though. Someone who would be satisfiedwith lord and husband, and wouldn’t drag him to the edge of the emotions.
Emotions, oceans. She suddenly saw the edge like the place where the oceans kissed the earth. Not apparently dramatic, and yet a complete change…
“Genova! Genova, dear!”
She turned to see Thalia waving from across the hall. Lady Calliope was with her, pushed by a footman. Genova hurried toward a safe haven.
“How splendid!” Thalia exclaimed. “And mistletoe. Plenty of berries, too! Always a good sign.”
“Sign of a harsh winter,” grumbled Lady Calliope. “Steer some of that punch over here, Genova.”
Genova beckoned one of the footmen carrying trays of glasses and passed two drinks over. “Christmas blessings,” she said, raising her own glass.
“And many of them!” Thalia declared, draining half in a gulp.
Lady Calliope drank but didn’t say anything.
“Is something the matter, Lady Calliope?” Genova asked. “Are you in pain?”
“No more than usual.” She looked up. “Ashart’s not for you, Genova, so don’t do anything foolish.”
Genova couldn’t stop her face flaming.
Thalia exclaimed, “Callie!”
“Of course he isn’t,” Genova said, as calmly as she could.
“I’d say this betrothal was a folly of Thalia’s making except that the Oliphants heard the story on their way here. Fat, red-nosed fellow over there and his gaunt wife. Encountered the Brokesbys in London and heard the wondrous tale of Ashart’s betrothal to his great-aunts’ companion, along with hints of lewdness. Probably all the worse for being vague.”
Genova looked at the middle-aged couple, wishing them to Hades.
“No one will thinktoomuch of it, dear,” said Thalia, “now you are engaged to marry.”
“And when that ends, I’ll be a fool who permitted too many liberties.”
“It’ll blow over,” Lady Calliope said brusquely, “and it’ll be a feather in your cap to have interested him at all. As long as you don’t fall into folly over it.”
Genova knew exactly what she meant, but said, “I am not the sort to fall into folly.”
“No, thank Zeus. Unlike that Miss Myddleton. Silly piglet. But he might as well let her catch him. She’s from a good enough family and rich.”
“I do think it a shame,” Thalia said with a pout.
“There’s a light in the darkness.” Lady Calliope looked up at Genova. “We’re hoping we can persuade you to live in our house in Tunbridge Wells, dear. To continue as companion. You’ll have a room of your own, and a maid, and all comforts. I’m sure it won’t last past the spring, when the Wells is alive with eligible gentlemen, but we would enjoy your company.”
Genova looked away, swallowing tears, touched but embarrassed. This was an offer made out of pity, a salve to her wounded heart. She must have been as transparent as Damaris Myddleton, and she hated that.
What’s more, she couldn’t take the kind offer. She couldn’t live where she might meet Ash, perhaps even be expected to dance at his wedding.
