“I know,” he replied—so fondly, she blushed.
She cleared her throat, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “Your parents came to speak to me.”
“Oh?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “An apology?”
“Their closest approximation, I think,” she said. “I don’t know where they got to.”
She turned, her shoulder leaning against his chest as they surveyed the crowd in tandem and settled, at the same time, on the impression of Wallace Selwyn, just now crouched on theground on his hands and knees, chortling like a child, as Errol’s jumping pig made a running leap toward his back and cleared him in a single bound.
Mrs. Selwyn was standing nearby, covering her face in what appeared to be shame.
“Well,” said Elias, sounding a little stunned. “All right.”
“Oh,” said Hattie, glancing at the scents table and Ruby situating herself with a silver blindfold in her hands. “I am supposed to go stop any guests from waving anything particularly vile under Ruby’s nose. There’s always one or two who try.”
“Should I ask?” Elias said, wrinkling his own nose.
“No,” said Hattie, grimacing. “It is astounding what people will put in their pockets in the hopes of shocking others. Oh, I suppose Lemuel is going to do it.”
“Lemuel?” Elias repeated as Lem’s large frame stalked across the pavilion in his sultan costume, coming to stand before the table with crossed arms and a respectful nod to Ruby. “I thought ‘Lem’ was short for ‘Lem.’”
“Not anymore,” said Hattie. “Do you think Errol can grow a lemon tree in our bedroom?”
“What?!”
She broke into a broad smile, lacing her hands through his and squeezing. “Find us a good seat for the theatrical excerpt,” she instructed. “I have to play the five tongues game.”
“Wait,” he said, gripping her hand before she could spin away and tugging her back to him. “I want to play.”
She fell against his chest with a surprised squeak, her fingers brushing hazelnut crumbs onto his waistcoat, and gazed up at him, uncertain if she was being teased. “You do?”
“I do,” he said, grinning down at her. “Will you humor me?”
She blinked, unwilling to steady herself just yet from her collapsed state against him. “Well, I suppose,” she said. “But nothing overly rude.”
“Oh, it’sveryrude,” he assured her, his eyes sparkling.
“Then do it quietly!” she returned, tightening her lips. “I shall whisper if I must.”
“I don’t want you to whisper,” he replied, already beginning to laugh. “I want you to announce.”
She sighed, using his body to propel herself back onto her feet. “Very well, then. Do your worst.”
He watched her, flushed and fond and still chuckling. “Tell me you love me,” he requested. “Five ways.”
For a moment, she just gazed at him, her chest aching. Sweetness and salt danced over her tongue and a scent hung in the air like caramel and vanilla.
“Je t’aime,” she said softly. “Ya tebya lyublyu.”
“Hm,” he said, crossing his arms as though assessing her pronunciation.
“Tha gaol agam ort,” she told him. “I love you.”
“You do?” he replied, taunting and smug.
“Sic,” she said. “Mea culpa.”
“Good,” he answered. “I love you too.”
