“Three days,” Olive chirps.
I’ve missed Wednesday’s string quartet concert, and now I’m missing the Harrowfields’ ball. I assume there have been no more trials in my absence, given that no one is sporting visible wounds, but I’ve wasted so much potential time with Bram.
Lottie disappears to find broth for my dinner, and each girl bids me her best before filing out the door for the carriages.
It’s another day before I’m out of bed and allowed to continue activities with the others. Everyone but Faith babies me, even Greer, who seems to have softened.
I remember what Olive said the first day in Caledonia Cottage:I was hoping we’d all be friends.I never shared her hope, but perhaps a near-death experience was all it took. Faith hasn’t brought up my late-night escapade again.
The next day, I’m finally strong enough to be out of bed, and I’m eager to be outside. Lottie is dressing me for my first full outing since my sickness, a turn around the park, when she slips a note into my hand. She continues to button my dress as if nothing has happened, but I tuck the square of parchment away in my palm. I can’t read it now, with Faith watching.
The larger green of the palace grounds is open to the public, and today’s walk feels as if we are on display. People whisper behind fans as we pass, judgments on our beauty, our charms, which of us will make the best princess.
I’ve got a lace parasol in one hand and the other looped through the crook of Olive’s arm. Olive is a perfect companion for these sorts of things, as she never stops talking, so I don’t need to say a word.
“The thing about croissants is you have to fold the dough into layers—” She’s been droning on about dough lamination and filling technique for ages.
I tune Olive out and take in the gardens, vibrantly green from a damp English winter. There’s a patch of purple crocuses along the gentle hill and a tangle of rosebushes beyond that.
There’s a gentle breeze today, but the shawl tied in a knot around my ribs keeps me from shivering. My bonnet hangs loose down myback; it’s not exactly proper, but the sun on my skin after so many days indoors feels like heaven.
Faith and Marion stroll arm in arm ahead of us, Emmy and Greer at our heels.
Our group stills as two horses round the path. The riders slow to a walk and take off their top hats as they approach.
“Lady Ivy, you’re up!” Bram hops down from his horse, a wide smile on his face. Emmett stays mounted, looking down at me with an expression I can’t decipher.
There’s a flurry of skirts as the other girls crowd around us, all talking over each other at Bram. Greer is asking if he likes her new hat. Olive is asking if he got the basket of scones she sent over. Faith trips over the toe of her shoe artfully and ends up in Bram’s arms.
He rights her quickly with a grin. Emmy sidesteps in front of her, saying, “I’ve always been praised for my balance.”
High up on his horse, Emmett jerks his chin at me.Do something, he mouths. The other girls are too distracted by Bram to see.
What?I mouth back.
Emmett raises a gloved hand to his forehead and mimics swooning.
That sounds humiliating.No.
Emmett clears his throat loudly. “My, Lady Ivy, you look rather wan.”
“I’m feeling quite well, thank you for your concern, Your Highness.”
“No. No. Brother, doesn’t she look poorly? You’d best get her inside.” If Emmett weren’t so out of reach, I’d kick him in the shins.
Bram looks down at me with concern. “Yes, you’ve been so ill.”
I swallow my annoyance at Emmett and remind myself that I’vegot a role to play. I have to make Bram love me. Emmett is right, even if he is annoying about it.
“I’ll ask the other girls to take me back to the cottage,” I say weakly. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining your nice afternoon.” I dab a handkerchief at my brow and flutter my eyes, really selling it.
“You’re not ruining anything. I insist on seeing you home safely.” He’s as chivalrous as I expected he’d be.
I catch Emmett’s eye just as I go to turn down the path. “Your horse is a beauty,” I say to Bram, remembering Emmett’s advice.
Emmett canters off, leaving in a cloud of dust.
His eyes crinkle as he grins. “Her name is Mab, and I promise she’s more polite than my brother.”
