“Shouldn’t we settle into our bedchambers first?”
“What’s so interesting about a bedchamber? You’ve seen one bedchamber, you’ve seen them all. We’re talking about asecret hiding placehere.”
“Well… all right. If you put it that way. Um, may I ask you something, Violet?”
“Hmm?” Vi said absently. She was craning her neck, trying to get a better view of the amphitheatre. Had Madame Monique arrived yet? she wondered.
“What’s going on between you and Lord Carlisle?”
Vi started, her gaze colliding with Polly’s. The latter’s eyes were wide, glimmering with a disconcerting mix of curiosity and knowledge. The last thing Vi wanted was for her sister to intuit the state of affairs between her and the viscount.
“Nothing’s going on,” she said uneasily. “Why do you ask?”
“I saw the two of you outside. You looked like you were arguing.”
“Carlisle and I, um, had a small misunderstanding.”
“Over what?”
Think, Violet.“He… he doesn’t like the fact that Wick and I are friends.”
Which was true. As a rule, Vi didn’t like to lie… mostly because she wasn’t any good at it. She would forget the fib she told, get caught in the details, and wind up giving herself away.
Polly’s light brown curls tipped to one side. “Why doesn’t Carlisle approve of your friendship with his brother?”
“Because he’s Viscount Killjoy, that’s why. A stuffed shirt.”
“But you don’t really know him, do you?” Polly said dubiously.
“I know what he said aboutme.” Crossing her arms, Vi said with a surge of defiance, “What is more, Wick told me that Carlisle lost the family fortune and is forcing Wick to marry an heiress in order to bail the estate out of trouble.”
“Howdreadful.”
Vi’s nod was emphatic. “Carlisle despises me because he thinks my friendship with Wick will jeopardize his plans. Because I won’t stand there and let him bully Wick around.”
Polly’s brows knitted. “I don’t think the viscount despises you.”
“He hates me as much as I hate… hold on. What makes you think he doesn’t despise me?” Vi’s pulse skittered. “Did you, um, sense something?”
Polly plucked at a pleat in her skirts. “He seemed angry and frustrated to me, but hate wasn’t part of the mix.” She slid Vi a glance from beneath her lashes. “For him or for you.”
Vi ignored the flutter in her belly. “That’s odd. Because I’m quite certain Idohate him.”
“You know better than I, of course,” her sister mumbled.
“Well, I’m not going to let him ruin my friendship with Wick. Or this party.”
No one—especiallynot a stick-in-the-mud like Carlisle—was going to control her. To tell her what and what not to do. To make her feel badly about herself.
Gabby returned, her expression harried. “I’m so sorry, but there’s a brouhaha I must attend to. One of the maids will have to take you to your chambers.”
“Not to worry.” Vi hitched a thumb toward the hallway. “What’s going on out there?”
Lowering her voice, Gabby said, “One of the guests, Mrs. Sumner, discovered that another guest, Lady Ainsworthy, has a better view from her chamber. Mrs. Sumner is insistent that she have a room equal to the latter’s.” Gabby bit her lip. “It’s not easy sorting out who should go where as we’ve a very mixed guest list. And don’t get me started on the seating charts for supper: the rules of precedence are impossible to figure out.”
“Why don’t you ask Marianne for help? She’s first-rate at that sort of thing,” Vi said.
“A splendid suggestion. I’ll ask her. See you both later?” Gabby rushed off again.
