Helena stared at the unfamiliar contraption revolving in the center of the table. It was shaped like a large cylinder lantern with five flat sides. Each side was a rectangular mirror that reflected the room at different angles. When the man jabbed it with his finger, the device spun crookedly on a metal base, blurring the reflections and splashing the room with spinning light.
Helena glanced around, trying to ascertain what her role in this game could possibly be. Would she operate the device? Interpret it? Or perhaps they meant for her to touch it and they would examine her reflection and... and... call out things about her?
Contempt roiled in her stomach. She detested not knowing what to expect or what to say. The humiliation would be greater now if she fled. They were waiting for her to run. She had no choice but to simply allow the moment to pass.
“What do I do?” Helena heard herself ask. On cue, the room dissolved into laughter.
“Oh, you do nothing, dear,” said the man. “It’s not your turn.” He turned to Lusk. “Lusk will not ninny out, I hope, just because his betrothed has come to look in on her duke.”
“It’s a stupid game,” Lusk said, repositioning his hat.
“You say that about every game. Go on. Give it a spin.”
Helena was relieved. Nothing would be required of her. Lusk would have his turn, and she would go. She glanced around the room. Lady Rodericka had abandoned her. There were only—
She saw Declan.
He stood just outside the door, hands open like claws at his sides, jaw clenched, eyes like daggers. Their gazes met, and the look of desperation and anger on his face made her eyes swim with tears. He made a barely perceptible half nod ofYou can manage,andKeep calm, andI’m here. She blinked in understanding, feeling a surge of longing so deep she almost reached out to steady herself on a chair.
But she mustn’t stare; she mustn’t do anything but appear impervious to it all. Shewasimpervious to it all.
She breathed carefully and turned from Declan’s strong, familiar face to the pale, weak-jawed profile of Lusk.
In the chair beside the table, Lusk said in a loud, showy voice, “You’re an arse, Bearington,” and leaned forward to give the mirrored device a spin.
“You must say the words!” called the woman dressed as a tropical bird.
“Mirror, mirror on the table,” droned Lusk, “show me my mate if you are able.” He sat back in his chair, lacing his hands behind his head. “It was always a stupid game,” he muttered, but the room burst into applause, stepping in to watch the spinning mirrors streak the room witha whirl of refracted candlelight and the blurred reflections of ecstatic faces.
When the spinning mirrors began to slow, Helena realized that one mirrored surface would always reflect Lusk’s face, seated in the adjacent chair. The other mirrors hung on small hinges that changed their angle with the force of the spin. They reflected a range of random points around the room—the faces of other guests, or the pink-papered wall, or a chair leg, or someone’s elbow. The slower the device spun, the more clearly the reflections could be seen. While it spun, a new reflection came into view every half second, along with one fixed reflection of Lusk’s bored, half-lidded face.
She saw the face of his friend, his expression distorted into a monster’s leer; the carpet; half of a gutted candlestick; the enrapt face of one of the women; the bulging bodice of still another woman. Every reflection was met with hoots of laughter. On and on it went until, at last, the device creaked its final revolution and the mirrors were still. Collectively, the room leaned in, watching the mirrors as if they would reveal the secrets of the world. Helena held her breath.
When the spinning finally stopped, the reflections in each mirror revealed the following: Lusk’s face, an empty goblet, someone’s leg, the carpet, and finally Helena.
The room burst into a wild eruption of approximated boos, laughter, hisses, and the wordOy!
Helena, shocked at the paleness and trepidation seen in her own reflection, stepped to the side.
“Sodding bad luck, Victoria!” someone crowed. “The mirror never lies!”
“Now be a good girl,” the man called Bearington sang, “and kiss your mate! There you are, none of those virginal nerves here. Christ, can someone get her a drink? She looks like she might swoon.”
Two laughing women were suddenly behind her, herding her in the direction of the duke’s chair. Helena dug in, but they swept her along on a wave of tinsel and petticoats. Before she could pull away, the women propelled her into Lusk’s lap. The room erupted again into laughter. Helena recoiled, scrambling to get up, but he latched an arm around her waist and held her to him.
The pinch of his bony fingers flooded her with panic. She went stiff, lurched, and finally opened her mouth to scream. He squeezed harder, forcing the scream into a yelp. She coiled her strength, ready to lurch again, but Lusk leaned his head into her ear and whispered, “Get outof here.”
His tone was flat and irritated and he jolted her with his hands when he spoke.
What?
It was the last thing Helena had expected him to say. But had he really just ordered her to go?
All around them, his friends hollered and toasted. Someone spun the mirror again, and the room was a swirl of dizzying light.
Helena tried to turn her head, to look into his eyes. He evaded, leaning into her ear a second time. “Did you hear? Take your bloody groom and go.”
She was about to jerk away when she heard agasp and the room fell silent. A goblet dropped and shattered. Helena looked up.
