that transformed her skin from mere covering to something sensitive and longing.
Another sound down the corridor, and Jeremy put her from him, tweaked the small ruffle on her bodice, adjusted the lace around her left wrist, smiled.
“You’ll do,” he said. “Gorgeous as you are.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Even more gorgeous with a Wildean eyebrow in the air,” he muttered. “Time for sausages. I don’t fancy your aunt catching us dallying in the corridor.”
His eyes had that burning look she’d never seen him direct to anyone else. Usually he viewed the world with a sardonic air.
Betsy walked into the dining room feeling dizzily happy. Jeremy put herring on her plate. She hated fish in the morning, but she ate a bite of one. He poured tea and she nodded when he asked about milk, although she never had milk, especially with Pekoe tea.
They talked and didn’t kiss, although his eyes kept catching on her lips and she kept shifting in her chair, small frustrated movements, because her body felt as wound up as a top.
After a while, Aunt Knowe marched in the door and checked her step when she saw the two of them sitting there alone, then launched into the innkeeper’s appalling ignorance of baked salmon.
Betsy felt keenly aware of her heartbeat galloping along. She looked down at her plate, thinking about all the moments and hours when one’s heart beats without notice, and then after a few kisses, it felt like an unbroken horse that couldn’t be ignored.
Aunt Knowe wound down her discourse on the proper care and cooking of salmon—wasted on two people who didn’t say a word in response. “The innkeeper tells me that the auction will happen today, snow or no snow.”
“What time will it take place?” Jeremy asked.
“It begins in a couple of hours,” Aunt Knowe replied. “Betsy, was your costume delivered to you?”
“Yes, it was,” Betsy said, not daring to look at Jeremy.
“I sent for a costume of my brother’s,” her aunt said. “I expect it will fit very well. Thankfully, neither of us has fattened with age.”
“Three ladies in breeches will attend this auction?” Jeremy asked.
“That’s the size of it,” Aunt Knowe said, finishing off a piece of buttered toast. “I have no fear for myself. I look uncannily like my brother and I could impersonate the duke in a pinch. I might even introduce myself as him. I haven’t been sufficiently groveled to in my life. This is the chance to make up for lost time.”
“I feel the same!” Betsy exclaimed. “I plan to make up for lost time wearing a corset.”
Jeremy choked back a laugh.
Aunt Knowe patted his hand. “No jesting, my dear. Until you’ve experienced whalebones, you must bite your tongue. That’s true of you as well, Betsy, when we enter the auction house. Your voice is too high, even for a boy. You can bid with a wave of your catalogue.”
“Certainly,” Betsy said, excitement bubbling in her stomach.
“Emily’s voice is even higher than yours,” Aunt Knowe continued. “What’s more, you’ve spent an entire Season practicing maidenly tranquility, but she was married out of the schoolroom, so silence will be a trial for her.”
“Maidenly tranquility,” Jeremy said, his eyes glinting with laughter. “I gather I should have spent more time in the ballroom this last Season. You didn’t bother with that trait in the billiard room.”
“You were silent enough for both of us,” Betsy retorted. “Sitting in the corner, brooding over your whisky, pretending to be inebriated.”
“Better than pretending to be maidenly?” He raised a devilish eyebrow. “Hmmm.”
“Hush, both of you,” Aunt Knowe ordered. “Back to my point, Betsy. You must keep your mouth shut or risk discovery.”
“Will there be dire consequences if we are caught?” she asked.
Her aunt was busily buttering her third piece of toast. “Emily and I will be with you. If we’re all in fancy dress, the event turns from a scandal to a lark.”
“In that case, you should wear a gown!” Betsy told Jeremy. “Perhaps one of yours would fit him, Aunt Knowe.”
Two appalled looks greeted this idea.
“Absolutely not,” Aunt Knowe cried. “His chest is twice the breadth of mine, Betsy. He’d ruin my bodice!”
Jeremy appeared to be struck dumb with horror.
“I think Jeremy would make a delectable lady,” Betsy said, giggling. “Yes, his chest is somewhat hairy—”
“I do not want to know how you are aware of that fact!” Aunt Knowe barked.
“He changed shirts in the stables,” Betsy said, ignoring Jeremy’s intrigued response to her comment.
“I believe it is likely that our escapade will result