“I believe so,” he said mildly.
She couldn’t quite bring herself to look up yet. Judging from the heat in her face, she was blushing, exactly as the illustration had depicted her, if the shaded circles on her cheeks were an indication.
She cleared her throat. “It isn’t precisely dignified, but hearts in my eyes are perhaps better than swirls about my nose. Although the swirls make me think of Brightwall the Donkey now.”
He made a soft sound. Almost a laugh.
In the illustration, Brightwall hovered over her like a behemoth. His hair was impressive, too.
And his pupils were drawn in the shape of hearts.
“Does this conclude our bargain, Magnus? Are you satisfied that dignity has been restored to your besmirched name?”
“I should think so,” he said gently.
She nodded without looking up. She took a moment to compose herself. Then cleared her throat.
“Very good then. Well! Everything is ready. I’ll set out for the stage tomorrow before the maids are up—you likely already know this since Mr. Lawler submits my expenses, but I’ve reserved a spot on the coach departing from The Elk & Trumpet Inn, bound for Liverpool, where I’ll meetmy fellow travelers and chaperones, Mr. and Mrs. Harper. I will stay there for two days before we board the packet. I’ve arranged to have my additional trunks brought in a separate conveyance. I anticipate that anything else I might need I will find in New York. When my sister returns from Italy, she’ll send over on a packet a few mementos that I’ve kept at my father’s house.”
He took this in with a sip of coffee.
“You’ve been very thorough and efficient,” he said, after a long moment.
“I generally am,” she said, pleasantly enough.
For some reason, this benign little breakfast was beginning to feel a bit like a risky game of roulette.
“So I will depart here tomorrow morning just before the maids come in with our coffee.”
He chewed his scone thoughtfully for some time, then had another sip of coffee.
He didn’t reply.
It was almost as though he hadn’t heard her.
“I’ll be out for most of the day,” he said. “I’ve a meeting with Mr. Lawler and my solicitor to attend to a few very pressing legal matters. I should return to The Grand Palace on the Thames by about four o’clock.”
“Very good,” she said almost hoarsely. “Until then.”
“Until then,” he confirmed.
She’d never had a day like this one: utterly fraught. Portent was in every breath she drew.
Something was about to happen; she could sense it. It might be devastating or extraordinary. Either possibility would transform her life completely. After today, she would never be the same person, and she could not say who that person would be. This kind of exquisite torture was unprecedented in her life.
But last night’s lack of sleep on the heels of risky, outrageously pleasurable lovemaking proved a godsend, nearly as good as laudanum for blunting that razor-edged anticipation. She drifted hazily through the hours, somehow both dazed and enervated. She lingered in the little garden in front of The Grand Palace on the Thames, marveling at its quiet beauty and resilience in a tiny, gritty patch of London. She visited with Gordon, their fat striped cat, who had been sleeping in the flowerbeds when she’d intruded upon his nap.
She returned to the room, drowsy, and thought she might indulge in a nap.
As the weather was warm, Magnus had left behind his greatcoat, and it hung from a hook near the door.
She buried her face in it and breathed. As if she could pull him into her lungs, into her blood, keep him with her forever that way.
Feeling only slightly guilty, she felt in his pockets again. With trembling fingers removed the little silver box. Superstitiously, she was afraid to open it, as if it contained some sort of verdict.
But the ribbon scrap was still inside.
She was readingRobinson Crusoein front of the fireplace when the key turned in the lock of the door of their suite.
