Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 59827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59827 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 299(@200wpm)___ 239(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
We finish the word.
Beloved.
It sits there on the paper, mocking me with its perfect loops and curves, created by his hand over mine while forty people watched and photographed and smiled like this was charming instead of devastating.
The demonstration ends. Miss Ida is thanking us, asking everyone to try the techniques themselves, and Veil should let go now. He should step back. He should stop touching me.
Instead his lips brush, barely, barely, against the shell of my ear. “Your calligraphy is improving,” he whispers. “But your poker face needs work.”
I jerk away from him, pen clattering to the table, and when I look up every single person in that room is staring at us with knowing smiles. The reporters. The influencers. The fountain pen enthusiasts. Lady Hampton in the front row, signing something to Miss Ida while trying very hard not to laugh.
I’m going to kill him. I’m actually going to murder the Duke of Veilcourt.
BY THE TIME I ESCAPE back to the Hampton residence, my face is still burning and my hands won’t stop shaking.
The walk from the workshop venue is short, just a few minutes through Foxtown’s cobblestone paths, but I use every second of it to try to compose myself. The gas lamps are starting to flicker on as the afternoon fades, and a couple in full Regency costume strolls past me arm in arm, looking so content it makes my chest ache.
I need to call someone. I need to talk to someone who isn’t Lady Hampton (too close to the situation) or Veil (the situation itself) or Joseph (absolutely not).
I need Dorcas.
My best friend since middle school, the one person who has always been able to talk me off every ledge, literal and metaphorical. She’s a nurse in Philadelphia, practical, blunt, and the only person in my life who has never once made me feel invisible.
I find a quiet bench near the swan lake, pull out my phone, and video-call her before I can talk myself out of it. She picks up on the second ring, and I can see she’s in scrubs, her braids piled up in a messy bun, clearly on break.
“Evi! Girl, how’s the fancy new job? Did you meet the duke yet? Is he—” She stops mid-sentence when she sees my face. “What happened?”
I open my mouth to explain, and instead the whole story just pours out. Joseph at the airport. Glenda. The ring in my pocket. Lady Hampton holding my hand on the plane. Foxtown and its impossible beauty. The fountain pen exhibition. And then Veil.
“Hold on, hold on, hold on.” Dorcas holds up a hand. “Back up. The duke taught you calligraphy? In front of cameras? With his arms around you?”
“It was a workshop demonstration—”
“Girl.” She gives me The Look, the one that has been calling me on my nonsense since we were twelve. “That man was not demonstrating calligraphy. That man was staking a claim.”
“He was not—”
“Did he or did he not whisper in your ear while forty people watched?”
I’m silent.
“Uh huh.” Dorcas leans back, crossing her arms. “That’s what I thought. And you’re telling me this happened less than forty-eight hours after you caught Joseph sucking face with Glenda at the airport?”
“When you put it like that—”
“How else am I supposed to put it?” But her expression softens. “Evi, listen to me. You are allowed to be attracted to someone new. You’re allowed to feel things. But you need to deal with Joseph first. You can’t just pocket the ring and pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because knowing you, you’re going to avoid that conversation until it becomes physically impossible to avoid, and by then—”
“Dorcas.”
“I’m just saying.” She holds up both hands. “Handle your business. Tell Joseph it’s over. Officially. And then, and only then, you can figure out what’s happening with Mr. Calligraphy Hands.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. It comes out watery and broken, but it’s real, and Dorcas grins because she knows she’s gotten through to me.
“I miss you,” I tell her.
“I miss you, too. Now go handle your mess.” She pauses. “And Evi?”
“Yeah?”
“If the duke tries the calligraphy thing again? At least enjoy it a little, will you?”
I’m still smiling when I hang up, but the smile fades as I stare at my phone and see Joseph’s name in my notifications. Three more texts. Two missed calls. All lies wrapped in love yous and miss yous, and I know Dorcas is right. I need to deal with this. I need to tell him I know.
But not tonight.
Tonight I’m going to focus on the job I came here to do, and I’m going to pretend that my heart isn’t being pulled in directions I never expected.
I slip my phone back into my pocket and head toward the house. Through the sitting room window, I can see Lady Hampton curled up on the sofa with a cup of tea, and the sight of her there, so warm and settled, tugs at something in my chest.