“All right, all right,” she said, hiccupping a little. “So, first and foremost, you’ve mucked everything up royally. You understand that, right? You can comprehend how and why getting your face pummeledmightcompromise your grand scheme?”
He tightened his lips. “Lib.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll take that as a yes. Anyhow, Rhys’s account of your gallantry got me thinking about how Princess Xandine mightactuallybe received in Brighton. It would be all well and fine on the Grand Pavilion and with the summer toffs and so on, but the docks are another matter entirely, aren’t they?”
He gave a weak, wheezing laugh from under the blanket.
“Indeed,” she agreed. “So what if we are not long affianced, or indeed not yet formally attached at all? What if we’ve only just come into one another’s acquaintance after you defended my honor on the wharf? It solves several logistical issues, puts the onus of proposing marriage on Xandine herself, who would be besotted with her red-haired hero, and allows you to appear duty-bound rather than dangerously fickle, when your attentions do stray to Miss Templeton-Rath.”
He paused, staring up at the knit weave of the blanket flickering against the firelight for a second and then flipped the fabric down to look at her. “And that’s why I’m bruised all to hell?”
“And that’s why you’re bruised all to hell,” she agreed. “Though it does look a bit better now, after the ice.”
“Does it?” he said, poking gingerly at his bruised cheekbone. “Feels much the same.”
“The salve will help,” she assured him. “Ruby’s more than perfume, no matter what she’d have you believe. But in this case, I think you ought to make your introductions while the injuries look the most ghastly. So, in the morning.”
“What?” he said, his fingers hovering over the bruising. “You want me to strut up and announce myself and then say, ‘Oh, don’t mind my face. I’m a hero.’”
“No, idiot,” she said, laughing. “You will feign a chance meeting, and I will rush to your side, also by chance, and provide the exposition. Should I wear that pink veil? Shame that costume isn’t done yet.”
He stared at her, blanket clutched in one hand and his face hovering under the other. Why was she so goddamn brilliant? What kind of person thought of such a thing in a matter of hours? Andhow?
“Well?” she prompted, raising her eyebrows.
“Yes,” he managed, clearing his throat and shaking himself out of his daze. “Yes, fine. First thing, then?”
“First thing,” she agreed, just as the grandfather clock in the hall announced the half hour. “Which means you should be asleep, Jasper. Gracious, what are you thinking, burning the midnight oil?
“What?” he demanded as she stood. “I?”
“You ought to be more responsible,” she chided, chuckling to herself as she sashayed out of the room. “You’re about to be a man wed.”
“M-Me?” he stammered, helplessly watching her go.
“Good night, my gallant hero,” she said, lilting her words in Xandine’s accent. “Sleep well.”
He frowned at the archway after she’d gone.
He wasnotgoing to sleep well.
Part III
All the World’s a Stage
Chapter Nine
Libba hadn’t sleptmuch. She had never been one for long stretches of slumber, especially when there were things that needed to be done, and even less so when she was determined to wake up by a specific time.
In this case, that specific time was first light.
Her room did not face Errol’s coops, but she heard the rooster crow all the same and smiled to herself, as it gave her permission to sit up in her bed and get to work.
“Bastard,” she muttered to herself because insulting the rooster was tradition.
And because some of her favorite people were bastards. Thus her second order of business this morning.
No, not Jasper. He had both his parents. A lovely, sickeningly affectionate couple of shore folk who lived near Barrel End.
