“If youwantto ask them, I’m here. I’ll ask them with you if you want. And if you don’t—even if you never do—I’ll be here. You never have to ask me, at least, all right?”
She lunges forward, pulling him into a hard hug. Christopher laughs into her hair and then pulls back, reaching out to wipe her traitorous eyes.
“First step is making sure you don’t end up in a horrible marriage. And we’ll get to the second step, making sure you can spend forever, or at least a little while, with the wonderful MissPine.”
Rosalie laughs, snuffling. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he replies, grinning. “Any thoughts so far? You’ve been pacing a trench out here, you must havesomething.”
“Going boating,” she admits.
“Boating?”
“I’m thinking of arranging a punting trip and being so ridiculously needy and demanding that he won’t want another outing.”
Christopher chuckles. “You’re very well suited.”
To Rosalie’s confusion, he pulls a packet of letters from his pocket. He removes one and waves it with a little smirk. Rosalie snatches it from him, confused, only for a waft of Catherine’s lilac perfume to hit her like a wall. Looking down at the letter, it’s a small square folded carefully, with Rosalie’s name in Catherine’s loopy script.
“Mrs.Pine would never allow MissPine to write to you willy-nilly, but her father did allow her to send a thank-you for the outing, and I’ve written back to ask permission to continue exchanging letters.”
Rosalie glances up to find Christopher bouncing on his toes, so proud of himself. “You could have simply led with that,” she says, shaking her head as he giggles.
She carefully unfolds the letter, looking down at Catherine’s beautiful script, her heart beating embarrassingly fast.
Dearest, darling Rosalie,
A flush immediately climbs up her cheeks.
It’s strange to say I miss you when we’ve seen each other just two days ago, but I do. I long for your smile, and your touch, and your embrace. I hope we are able to arrange for at least an outing most urgently.
To that end, I have devised a plan. Our mothers will never forsake their quest to see one of us married to Mr.Dean. But Mr.Dean has made no such promise.
Would you care to join me in a contest of terrible manners? Perhaps if we are horrible enough, he will simply walk away from both of us, leaving us but one choice: to drown our sorrows together and force our mothers to give up the feud by way of our enduring “friendship.”
My mother is planning to hold a tea for the whole ton at the Upper Rooms in a month’s time. I think we can enact a suitable campaign before then, don’t you?
Please send your reply back with your brother’s, as he and I will begin a correspondence. Does he like chess? I thought perhaps we might play a game in our letters.
I eagerly await your response, and look forward to hopefully matching you in a game of atrocious manners. And after that... we’ll decide what comes next, together.
Ardently yours, and thinking of your face in the firelight,
Catherine
Her heart is racing now. She wants to laugh. She wants to run all the way to Catherine’s house and tell her she’s brilliant, and they’ve had similar thoughts, and she is absolutely going to win the game of terrible manners, to make sure that she gets to use only her very best on Catherine until... until Catherine tells her to stop, really.
“I do think you might put your considerable brain power together to concurrently repel Mr.Deananddecide on a future you might like together,” Christopher says.
Rosalie looks up, surprised.
“What, you thought I wouldn’t be peeking at your letters?”
“You better not,” Rosalie says quickly, her voice higher than she means it to be. “They’re... private.”
He laughs. “Just this one. But I demand to be in on the scheming. In fact, I think I’ll invite MissPine along for this boating outing, so you can begin to repel Mr.Dean together.”
Rosalie sucks on her cheek, carefully folding Catherine’s letter and tucking it into her stays. He’s a sneak, but at least he didn’t mention the lip print beneath Catherine’s beautiful signature.
