Now that she could see that, it wasn’t fun anymore.
And tonight, she’d have to make sure once and for all that he abandoned this caper. She’d blow it all up and then afterward, when they were together in the privacy of the carriage, she would apologize and explain. And then it could be over.
Then things could go back to how they were supposed to be. She could still be a little angry about all of this. He could still pout and speak nonsense about the fire he wanted in a woman. But none of it would have real teeth anymore.
She only knew it was time to depart because of Lem’s heavy sigh at the door.
He had opted to dress in the English style, with a garnet-and-gold waistcoat and matching cravat clip, to at least nod toward the color preferences of their imaginary homeland. She had tried to convince him to wear one of the costumes, of which he had many, but he had flatly declined.
“I am attending as your bodyguard, not a dinner guest,” he reasoned. “No one will be looking at me.”
“When has that ever been true?” she’d snapped back, resisting the urge to pout. “Fine.”
“Liberty,” he said, frowning at the effect she had as she stood and swept her hands down the front of her gown. “Is this wise?”
She blinked at him, assuming the docile, vacant Xandine Jasper had hated so much. “Whatever do you mean, Lemuel?”
He flattened his lips at her. “Very well. The coach is here. We are late.”
“Don’t be absurd,” she said, floating across the room and taking his arm. “I have never been late in my life. You know that.”
He chuckled softly to himself, giving a nod. “Ah, yes,” he agreed. “How could I forget?”
“I should be very cross that you chose that red,” she continued. “You know how well it suits you. What did I say to you the day I hired you into the troupe?”
He was still laughing, his broad shoulders shaking as he helped her into the carriage. “Not to outshine you. Ever.”
“Ever!” she repeated. “You broke that rule first. Ah, how long is the ride?”
“Not long,” he said, plopping onto the velvet cushion across from her. “Are you not cold?”
“Freezing,” she said. “Doesn’t matter.”
He frowned, moving to shake off his overcoat.
“Don’t,” she said, holding up her hand. “Let me get accustomed to it. And, Lem?”
“Yes?” he said, big hands still on his lapels.
She gave him a wincing, aching little smile. “I am sorry about Wednesday. We will go next week. I promise it is foremost in my thoughts.”
He raised an eyebrow. “It is only a week,” he said. “I told you and Mr. Harcourt before. I do not mind a bit more waiting.”
“I do, though,” she said. “Lem?”
“Yes, Libba?” he said again, his eyes crinkling at the repetition.
She sighed and looked out the window as they turned onto the well-lit main street toward the Templeton-Raths’ temporary mansion. “You are the dearest friend I’ve ever had,” she said softly before Libba slipped away entirely and took up residence, just below the surface, drowsy and warm beneath Xandine’s mask.
Chapter Fourteen
Jasper arrived justas the sun slipped fully below the horizon, a bouquet of flowers he’d bought on a whim crushed against his chest, and his heart in his throat.
Did one simply knock on the door when invited to a house like this?
He didn’t know.
And he couldn’t rightly pace around out here until Libba arrived, either. Not because she was cross with him, which she was. But because he knew she was going to be late.
