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Thomas looked at me strangely. “I suppose they both include a certain level of playacting, but I’d like to think my method is a bit more scientific than the man swinging swords about.”
“Still, I’d like—” Another knock came at the door and I swallowed my words as quickly as Anishaa had gulped down those flames. I started shoving Thomas toward my trunk, not knowing where else to stash him. Liza stirred, but didn’t wake. “Get in there… quickly!”
Without much argument, Thomas folded himself into the trunk—an impressive feat given his tall stature—and I tossed one of my gowns over the top, hoping to hide him under the tentlike skirts. I smoothed down the front of my dressing gown, cracking the door an inch.
Mephistopheles leaned against the doorjamb, gaze dropping to my robe. I felt my breath leave my body in a whoosh as if I’d been punched. This was the worst possible situation. I could not let Thomas overhear our conversation because of the bargain, and I could not admit to the ringmaster that a young man was already in my chambers. If Mephistopheles said anything about the cancan last night, I was certain Thomas wouldn’t let the subject drop until I fessed up.
“Hello, Miss Wadsworth. Were you expecting someone else? You seem like you’ve swallowed an egg.”
He made to invite himself in, but I held my arm out stiffly. “What are you doing here?”
“Good day to you, as well,” he said. “It’s amazing—you have no issue with our meeting in darkened nooks on the ship, or coming to my cabin at indecent hours, but heaven forbid I initiate a private meeting. The shame.”
“If you wish to speak with me,” I said, keeping my voice low, “then we shall pick a place to meet. In public. Preferably when I am decently dressed and have a chaperone.”
“Was Liza acting as your chaperone last night?” He peered around me, making a show of inspecting my quarters. “Are you hiding a secret lover I ought to be aware of?”
“I’m in the process of buffing my scalpels,” I said, indicating the medical bag on my nightstand. “If you’re not careful, I might use those blades on your sparkly suits.”
“Threats are unbecoming and don’t suit you.” He sniffed, feigning hurt. He turned to leave, then pivoted back. Even at dawn he wore a mask, reflecting the orangey reds of the rising sun.
“Oh, and you ought to tell Mr. Cresswell to remember his hat. I see it’s sitting out on that vanity of yours. Wouldn’t want anyone to have the wrong impression, now, would you? Thank goodness your cousin is pretending to sleep, else people might really start talking.”
Before I could deny or claim it as my own, the ringmaster stuck his hands in his pockets and walked swiftly down the promenade. The sound of his sullen whistling added to the chorus of wind and waves. I curled my hands into fists, wishing I could muster up loathing him. Having two young men around who felt the compulsion to share each annoying observation they made was enough to drive anyone mad.
Once the door clicked shut, Thomas pushed the dress aside, brows raised. “Now might be a good time to discuss Mephistopheles, especially since your uncle has asked me to watch after you. What’s so important that he needs to call on you at this hour? Doesn’t he kno
w that level of impropriety is strictly my area of expertise?”
I walked over to him, bent down, and cupped his face in my hands, relishing the feel of his warm skin without a layer of silk between us. “We will discuss everything soon, I promise. But right now I need to get dressed and you need to leave before someone finds you here.”
After sneaking another glance at my “slumbering” cousin, I pressed my lips to his, soft and gentle at first, then let go of polite restraint. Thomas didn’t seem to mind the distraction; he pulled me near as our kiss deepened. With great effort, I kissed him gently, then sat back on my heels. It was most decidedly my favorite form of sleight of hand.
“We wouldn’t want anyone to have the wrong impression,” I said, unable to hide my smile. “They’d assume we were in here kissing.”
“We wouldn’t want that, now.” Thomas shook his head, and somehow we were kissing again. “It would be highly indecent. Being almost alone. In the room of the girl I want to marry. The one who keeps refusing me.”
“Thomas… I… you know I’m not refusing you,” I said. “I want to do this the correct way. My father deserves to be included. Please don’t think it indicates hesitation on my part, I’d—”
“A wedding?” Liza popped up from the covers, eyes wide with delight. “I must help plan it! What season are you thinking? Spring would be divine. The flowers, pastels! Winter is also breathtaking in the right application. Your black hair would look gorgeous against ice blues and whites.”
“A wedding, elopement. I am in favor of any season or occasion.” He hopped out of the trunk, then helped me stand, giving me a chaste kiss. After he plucked his top hat up from the vanity, he smiled. “We will worry about the details later.” He glanced back at the table of clues I’d laid out. “In the interim, I’ll see what I can figure out about those. Maybe some connection will make itself known. Oh, and Liza?” He turned a grin on her. “I look rather breathtaking in pale colors. Spring is just around the corner, too. Perhaps you might start there.”
With a tip of his hat, he slipped out of my cabin. Listening as Liza prattled on about wedding ideas, I went back over to my trunk and rummaged through the silks and velvets.
“Your father is going to be so pleased,” she said, that dreamy look still on her face. “I cannot believe you’ve not mentioned his intentions sooner. I do hope that Harry will propose—we make a decent match as well, don’t we?”
The letter Mephistopheles had supplied seemed to catch fire in my nightstand. Once Liza read it, her heart was going to shatter. I offered a tight smile, unable to break the news to her just yet. “I have no doubt you’ll marry a man who makes you very happy.”
There were only so many secrets I could keep before I started to unravel.
The Fool tarot
EIGHTEEN
THE FOOL
FIRST-CLASS PROMENADE
