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Whit was making a commendable effort to keep his attention trained on my face, but when I moved, the slide of my robe revealed the frilled hem of my nightgown. He turned away abruptly and sat down on the available chair, unoccupied by my parents’ trunks.
“I didn’t see her personally,” he said, his voice grave and serious. “I went down to the lobby for coffee and the hotel clerk remarked that he saw someone who looked like you get into a carriage around eleven in the morning.”
“She wouldn’t have,” I said. “She isn’t stupid. There must be some mistake.”
“Fine,” Whit said. “Where is she?”
“I told you, taking tea out on the terrace.”
“I didn’t see her out there,” Whit said gently.
A roar sounded off in my ears. “Let me get dressed.”
“Please,” Whit muttered.
I went to my room and shut the door behind, and quickly decided on a day dress in a light green and cream stripe, and realized that I had a problem. The dress would only fit with a corset and bustle, and while I could put on the latter, I couldn’t do the former without assistance. I groaned. This day was already off to a terrible start. I opened the door and stuck my head out.
“Whit, you’re my friend, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” came Whit’s impatient reply. “What in God’s name is taking you so long?”
No one felt the urgency of the moment more than I did. My mind raced with possibilities of where Elvira might be—because Iknewshe would never get in a stranger’s carriage. “So you wouldn’t mind cinching my corset for me?”
Whit dropped his head into his hands. “Damn it, Olivera.”
I remained silent.
“I’ll go find someone to help you,” he said rather desperately, standing.
I shook my head. “That will take longer. Will you please just tie up my laces? It won’t take a moment and then we’ll never speak of it again.”
Whit glared at me, and I waited patiently for him to see there was onlyone course of action available. He muttered a distinctly foul word under his breath and walked toward me, his blue eyes icy and fixed solely on my face. “Turn around,” he said through gritted teeth.
I obeyed quietly, sensing that if I antagonized him further, he’d probably start bellowing. I was worried for Elvira, but for half a moment, I let myself smirk.
Whit’s tone was deadly. “Stop smiling.”
“I wasn’t.”
He tugged at the stays fiercely and my breath whooshed out of me. “You’re a rotten liar.” He worked quickly, his fingers accidentally brushing against my upper back.
“You’ve done this before,” I remarked casually. “It’s not an easy thing to figure out. Judging by how effectively—”
“Quiet,” Whit snapped.
My grin returned.
“I’m done,” he said, his breath tickling the back of my neck. “Go put on your gown—”
I turned around with an apologetic smile. “The dress has two dozen tiny buttons on the back. I’ll need your help.”
Whit’s expression turned murderous. I quickly went and put on the bustle and then stepped into the dress, putting my arms through the sleeves. I came back out, wisely checking my amusement. Whit’s expression hadn’t changed. He walked around me and began buttoning me up.
“This dress is absolutely ridiculous.”
“I agree with you. I’d much rather be wearing what you’re dressed in.”
Whit let out a snort. “Society would never let you be so progressive.”
