smooth andarrange curls with her fingers. ‘The servants are buzzing like bees—there is so much gossip in the air, it is like pollen from the flowers.’
Mae looked up sharply. Josette’s tone was entirely too casual.
‘Many interesting things I have heard—including the name of one of the gentlemen.’ She met Mae’s gaze in the mirror now. ‘He is here, isn’t he?’ she asked quietly. ‘The one who so troubled you in the past?’
A heated flush started low in her chest. Mae ignored it and nodded.
The maid pulled away. ‘Aha! I knew it. This is why you begin to doubt yourself—and your purpose.’ Whirling away in disgust, Josette began to murmur in low, rapid French. Mae flinched when she swung back and poked a finger at her.
‘Mademoiselle,’
her maid began heatedly. She paused and took a breath and the exasperation in her face faded to concern. ‘You said you were strong, that you would not let his indifference inflame you.’
‘There is no need to worry. I acted exactly as I must. We’ve promised to keep our distance. Our meeting was bound to be traumatic, but except for the slight damage to my ankle, I am fine.’
‘So it is true, then—it was he who caused your fall.’ Josette began to grumble again. ‘I must catch a glimpse of this man who causes so many difficulties. Surely he must be handsome.’ She eyed Mae slyly. ‘I know his brains must not be the attraction, since he did not have the sense to fall in love with you when he had the chance.’
Mae laughed. ‘Well, you must be careful whenyou seek him out, dear. His mind might not be up to your standards …’ she let out a teasing sigh ‘… but the rest of him …’ She paused and closed her own eyes. ‘His eyes—dark blue on the outside, but I’d forgotten how they change toward the centre, fade to the lightest shade, so clear you think you could see right down to his soul, if only he would let you.’ After a moment she marshalled herself and tossed a wicked grin over her shoulder. ‘And his shoulders! I know how you feel about a nice set of shoulders.’
‘Eh! Blue eyes, broad shoulders.
Et voilà!
So easily she falls.’ Josette shook her head in dismay.
Mae straightened. ‘No one is in danger of falling,’ she said flatly. She’d made that mistake once already—at her first encounter with Stephen Manning, years ago. The fateful afternoon had been branded on her heart. Her friend Charlotte had only laughed when the two of them had been caught spying on Charlotte’s brother and his friends—the older boys had been sparring with fencing foils in the wooded groves of Welbourne Manor. Mae, at first, had cringed. She’d waited, head down, for the teasing to begin. But then she’d raised her chin in defiance. She’d been mocked before, for odd starts and hoydenish behaviour. She’d resolved to endure it again, with her head held high.
Incredibly, there had been no mocking. No snide names or even the common disdain older boys felt for younger girls. Stephen had laughed and diffused the situation entirely. And then he had reached down a hand, and offered to teach her to fence.
Thunk.
Fallen was exactly what she’d done.
‘Oh, but your papa,’ Josette reminded her, morose. ‘He is not going to be happy.’
‘He has not the slightest cause for worry,’ Mae insisted. She’d already wasted years on Stephen Manning—and what had it got her?
After a lifetime of battling the many voices who insisted she must change, adjust, squeeze herself into an ill-fitting mould, after years of fighting to bolster the pedestal of her own confidence, he’d knocked her off almost without effort. Stephen Manning had been the only one who had ever made her doubt herself.
All the old anguish and heartbreak threatened to resurface at the thought. Mae refused to allow it. It had taken a long time to accept that all the glorious potential she’d seen between her and Stephen had been nothing more than friendship tinged rosier by
Mae looked up sharply. Josette’s tone was entirely too casual.
‘Many interesting things I have heard—including the name of one of the gentlemen.’ She met Mae’s gaze in the mirror now. ‘He is here, isn’t he?’ she asked quietly. ‘The one who so troubled you in the past?’
A heated flush started low in her chest. Mae ignored it and nodded.
The maid pulled away. ‘Aha! I knew it. This is why you begin to doubt yourself—and your purpose.’ Whirling away in disgust, Josette began to murmur in low, rapid French. Mae flinched when she swung back and poked a finger at her.
‘Mademoiselle,’
her maid began heatedly. She paused and took a breath and the exasperation in her face faded to concern. ‘You said you were strong, that you would not let his indifference inflame you.’
‘There is no need to worry. I acted exactly as I must. We’ve promised to keep our distance. Our meeting was bound to be traumatic, but except for the slight damage to my ankle, I am fine.’
‘So it is true, then—it was he who caused your fall.’ Josette began to grumble again. ‘I must catch a glimpse of this man who causes so many difficulties. Surely he must be handsome.’ She eyed Mae slyly. ‘I know his brains must not be the attraction, since he did not have the sense to fall in love with you when he had the chance.’
Mae laughed. ‘Well, you must be careful whenyou seek him out, dear. His mind might not be up to your standards …’ she let out a teasing sigh ‘… but the rest of him …’ She paused and closed her own eyes. ‘His eyes—dark blue on the outside, but I’d forgotten how they change toward the centre, fade to the lightest shade, so clear you think you could see right down to his soul, if only he would let you.’ After a moment she marshalled herself and tossed a wicked grin over her shoulder. ‘And his shoulders! I know how you feel about a nice set of shoulders.’
‘Eh! Blue eyes, broad shoulders.
Et voilà!
So easily she falls.’ Josette shook her head in dismay.
Mae straightened. ‘No one is in danger of falling,’ she said flatly. She’d made that mistake once already—at her first encounter with Stephen Manning, years ago. The fateful afternoon had been branded on her heart. Her friend Charlotte had only laughed when the two of them had been caught spying on Charlotte’s brother and his friends—the older boys had been sparring with fencing foils in the wooded groves of Welbourne Manor. Mae, at first, had cringed. She’d waited, head down, for the teasing to begin. But then she’d raised her chin in defiance. She’d been mocked before, for odd starts and hoydenish behaviour. She’d resolved to endure it again, with her head held high.
Incredibly, there had been no mocking. No snide names or even the common disdain older boys felt for younger girls. Stephen had laughed and diffused the situation entirely. And then he had reached down a hand, and offered to teach her to fence.
Thunk.
Fallen was exactly what she’d done.
‘Oh, but your papa,’ Josette reminded her, morose. ‘He is not going to be happy.’
‘He has not the slightest cause for worry,’ Mae insisted. She’d already wasted years on Stephen Manning—and what had it got her?
After a lifetime of battling the many voices who insisted she must change, adjust, squeeze herself into an ill-fitting mould, after years of fighting to bolster the pedestal of her own confidence, he’d knocked her off almost without effort. Stephen Manning had been the only one who had ever made her doubt herself.
All the old anguish and heartbreak threatened to resurface at the thought. Mae refused to allow it. It had taken a long time to accept that all the glorious potential she’d seen between her and Stephen had been nothing more than friendship tinged rosier by
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