the confidence of my lie, skating fast and happy on Chloe’s bitter chagrin.
Who’s curdling the milk now?
“He gave it to me during the tea yesterday. I tried to refuse it, of course, but Lord Armand insisted, saying it was a welcome gift and that he would be insulted should I not accept it. And I thought, well, as a guest of the duke, as a student of the school, I could not graciously continue to decline.” I looked straight into Mrs. Westcliffe’s eyes. “Was it the wrong thing to do, ma’am?”
Her head tilted, just slightly. I was mightily aware of being judged, of my words, my sincerity, being weighed. I was a nonentity compared to Chloe Pemington; all the sincerity and credibility in the world be damned, she was a member of the peerage and I a nameless orphan, and nothing would ever change that. But throw in the backing of the school’s noble patron and his son …
“No,” Mrs. Westcliffe concluded at last. “From your description, it appears you behaved correctly, Miss Jones.”
“But—” Chloe clenched her hand into her napkin.
“Yes, Lady Chloe?”
“She didn’t even show it to you before wearing it! She broke the rules.”
“That specific rule applies to jewelry worn with the school uniform. As it is Sunday, and Miss Jones is not in uniform, the spirit of the rule remains intact.” Mrs. Westcliffe gave a nod. “Good morning, girls. Oh, and, Miss Jones. Kindly do put up your hair before chapel.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Another nod, and she was gone.
All through the meal, the girls at my table kept pretending not to stare at the cuff. I didn’t attempt to hide it, nor did I attempt to flaunt it. I acted just as I imagined any of them would, allowing it to slide oh so casually along my wrist as I ate my food, as I sipped from my cup. When a short-lived sunbeam slipped across the table and I reached into it for the sugar, a spray of light dappled my skin and the china bowl like sparks from a bonfire.
All the girls appeared curious, but none of them appeared either especially pleased or dismayed, except for Lady Sophia.
From her place down the table, Sophia looked from the cuff up into my eyes, making certain I noticed. Then she smiled, smugly satisfied, like the cat that’d gotten the cream.
• • •
Whatever else Chloe cared to insinuate, I did have hairpins. In fact, as luck would have it, I had two in my pocket that I’d stuck in there last weekend, because I’d been bored and restless in chapel and they’d been digging into my nape.
Two were sufficient to hold up my hair—perhaps not as neatly as the other students’, but then again, none of them were of my particularly inferior blood. So who cared?
I had Jesse’s gold and Jesse’s attention, and they didn’t, so who cared?
The found pins saved me a trip to my room and granted me an extra fifteen minutes of delicious breakfast, which is why it was after chapel and well after noon when I finally made my way back to the tower. The clouds were shedding their promised rain, decreasing the temperature by a good ten degrees and tinting any light that seeped into the castle the shade of murky steel. Raindrops peppered every window, as if the wind could not decide in which direction to blow.
I would need my oilskin for the trip through the woods. Magical or not, I’d caught colds before.
Shadows lapped the tower stairs, charcoal over gray. My door was ajar, but I thought nothing of it. Gladys would have been in and out by now, making my bed, straightening my things, likely spitting in my water.
The bed had been made, but the quilts were all rumpled. That’s what happened when someone sprawled atop them, as Lord Armand was when I opened my door. Armand, in a wrinkled shirt and trousers and black woolen socks, his coat and tie and shoes dumped in a soggy heap on the floor. It looked for all the world like he’d been napping.
I stood for a moment without moving, my fingers tight and cold on the knob.
“Hullo,” he said sleepily, rubbing a hand along his jaw.
He’s here in my room, right in the middle of the afternoon. Great God, there’s a boy in my bed in my room—
I came to life. “Get out!”
He yawned, a lazy yawn, a yawn that clearly indicated he had no intention of leaving. In the moody gray light his body