by Molly Tanzer
Dorina put her hand on Evadne’s knee, and squeezed it gently.
“You know, Evadne, even though it was an awful thing . . . everything that happened, it got us here, together. And for that, I feel only gratitude.”
Evadne’s throat was so tight that no words could get out. Dorina understood. She leaned her head against Evadne’s knee. She sighed happily, and they lapsed into a companionable silence.
The light faded as they sat together. Evening would come soon. Supper tonight was to be an informal affair, which suited Evadne just fine. Afterward, Miss Travers had promised to read to anyone who wished to listen. She had a lovely voice and was in the middle of reading to them from The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, which, while too terrifying for Dorina, Evadne was enjoying very much.
Evadne became aware of the sound of footsteps behind her. A moment later, Dorina looked up.
“Harry!” she cried—and the delight in her voice made Evadne’s eyes well. It seemed incredible that at one time she had considered the two of them ill suited. They loved one another so much; how could she feel anything but joy for them?
“Supper’s almost ready,” she said. “Hello, Evadne. Are you having a fine afternoon?”
“Delightful, Lady Henry.” She had never been able to drop the woman’s title.
“And Jonas is here too,” said Dorina. “Good evening, Jonas.”
“Good evening, Dorina.” Evadne craned her neck, eager to see the young man, but he thoughtfully stepped around the side of her wingback chair so she needn’t risk a cramp. “And good evening to you, Miss Gray. Forgive me, but I must say, you look remarkably well this evening.”
“I am well, thank you.”
She smiled at him, grateful as always for his respectful courtesy . . . though of course it was more than courtesy. She and Jonas had become very close over the past year, and she had decided he was a delightful person in every way. He was so intelligent, perceptive . . . even handsome. That he enjoyed her company, and had desired more of it ever since their first meeting in Lord Oliver’s chambers still never failed to astonish her.
Several months ago, as they lay in bed together late into a chilly winter morning, he had shyly asked how he had once managed to offend her so thoroughly; she had done him the courtesy of replying honestly. It had been awkward to admit her reaction had so much to do with her anger toward one whom she had once hoped would be a lover, but Jonas had been understanding, even apologetic. No apology was needed—he could not have known, and anyway, every day she was more grateful to Freddie Thornton for choosing to marry someone else. Jonas was a better man than she could ever have dreamed of; he had loved her. Still loved her. And she loved him.
“I had hoped you would let me escort you back to the house,” he said, glancing at where Lady Henry and Evadne were murmuring to one another in the shadow of a rosebush.
“Nothing would delight me more,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Let’s pack up the things and go, then,” said Dorina, who didn’t bother to hide the fact that she had been eavesdropping. At least it was obvious that what she had overheard pleased her. “We’re expected.”
Evadne watched them put away the tea things and fold the blanket, regretful that she had not the strength to help them—but also happy to watch the way they all moved and spoke with one another, laughing at this and that. Jonas’s eyes found hers more than once as they worked, and she saw something in his gaze that still made her blush and look away.
It wasn’t the life she had imagined for herself, that of a devoted wife. Nor was it the life she had craved to return to, back with her parents, with its order and security providing the illusion of control.
But that didn’t matter to her. Not anymore, at least. She had found peace—and to her mind, that was a better thing by far.
Acknowledgments
It’s never easy for me, writing my list of acknowledgments. I’m a highly social person—people inspire me; they make a difference in my day, every day, whether they’re regulars (or randos!) at the coffee shop where I work, coworkers, friends, family, or lovers. It’s hard selecting a handful to draw out as being especially important to a project, but here goes: My editor, John Joseph Adams, who also acquired this book for Houghton Mifflin Harcourt; my agent, Cameron McClure, whose insights always make my books better; my copyeditor, Rebecca Jaynes, who improved this book tremendously with her knowledge of grammar, art, and history; Wendy Wagner, who is basically this book’s Jane Austen novel–style aunt in that she helped get it in front of the individual who would eventually acquire it; Selena Chambers and Gina Guadagnino, whose emotional support, in addition to their knowledge of the nineteenth century, helped me so much, and in so many ways; Jared Shurin and Anne Perry, who kindly let me stay with them as I trotted all over London in the November rain, looking at streets and houses and museums as research; Max Campanella and Carrie Vaughn, whose pamphlet on fencing helped me get a toehold in the theory of the sport; and the friendly athletes and coaches at Northern Colorado Fencers who helped me with the practice: Gary Copeland, Scott Permer, Brian House, and all the students, as well. Friends and associates are also essential to my process (though I’m lucky to call many of those listed above friends, as well), so I’d like to thank Yaz Ostrowski, Cristal Dávila, Tim Wieneke, David Ardanuy and Rachael Zeitz Ardanuy, John Gove, Jesse Bullington, Adam Locy and Melissa Sauer Locy, my mother, Sally Tanzer, and my cat, “the Toad.” And of course I must thank the attendees of the 2015 Starry Coast Writers’ Workshop, where I received many truly amazing revision notes. Marissa Lingen, Chris Cevasco, Michael DeLuca I must thank in particular, as they read the entire manuscript, but everyone that week helped me with this project: Grá Linnea, Jennifer Linnea, David Mercurio Rivera, Desirina Boskovich, Terra LeMay, Robert Levy, and Barbara Krasnoff. Thank you all—and that “all” includes everyone I’ve forgotten. You, too, are remembered in these pages.
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About the Author
MOLLY TANZER is the British Fantasy and Wonderland Book Award–nominated author of Vermilion and The Pleasure Merchant.
For more information about her critically acclaimed novels and short fiction, visit her online at
www.mollytanzer.com
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@molly_the_tanz on Twitter
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