A Star Shall Fall

But she refused to give up so easily. She’d asked for a kiss, and she would get one. “It need only be on the cheek,” Irrith said. “I am a gentleman, I assure you. As for your doubts about my honor…”

Well, she’d eaten bread. That wouldn’t make this enjoyable, but at least it wouldn’t hurt her. “If either of you ladies has a cross about you?”

Mrs. Vesey’s eyes widened. She looked to Miss Northwood, and Miss Northwood looked to her; both of them shook their heads. This modern age, Irrith thought, caught between annoyance and amusement. Time was, you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting someone with a cross. Resigned, she said, “I was

going to swear on a cross that I intend no harm this day to anyone who doesn’t deserve it. But you’ve spoiled my plan—and, I might add, quite spoiled this meeting, which was supposed to be a brief and mysterious encounter. Look, a magical stranger in Hyde Park! But no, you had to argue.”

She glanced up to find the most extraordinary expression on Miss Northwood’s face. It turned out to be laughter, bubbling up out of the young woman’s throat and lighting her eyes. Even Mrs. Vesey began to chuckle. Edward Thorne sat very still, but Irrith could tell he was dying to turn and say something.

“Here.” Miss Northwood leaned forward and planted a brief kiss on Irrith’s cheek. “For your luck, and I am sorry that I don’t know how to behave properly when accosted by a faerie.”

Irrith mock-frowned at her. “Serve you right if I gave you no reward. But you’ve amused me, and for that I’ll give you two things. One, when you return home, you’ll find your favourite rosebush in bloom. Second, I will bless your dreams, miss, that you may find happiness in them.” And she swept Miss Northwood a grand bow.

“Thank you,” the young woman said gravely.

Not anything like Lune. Nor, for that matter, like me. But Irrith could see why Galen had chosen her—and, though it made her teeth hurt to admit it, she couldn’t fault the choice.

In which case, this encounter deserved to end properly, even if the middle had gone awry. Irrith vanished herself before their eyes, then patted Edward Thorne’s leg in passing as she stole away, behind the tree in which she’d hidden before. She listened as he came out of his “trance” and called out to the ladies; Mrs. Vesey reassured him, and then they drove onward, leaving Irrith to guess at the conversation that ensued.

Not at all what Galen had intended. But it would do the work.

And I have to get to Rose House, or that bush will be a sore disappointment when Miss Northwood goes looking.

LEICESTER FIELDS, WESTMINSTER

2 December 1758

“Oh, thank goodness you’re home this morning.” Cynthia hurried across Galen’s bedroom, with free disregard for her brother’s half-dressed state and Edward’s meaningful cough. “You’re needed downstairs. Delphia has called upon me, but you’re the one she wants to speak to, only she can’t call upon you and have it be proper. Mama, thank Heaven, is out with Daphne, and I can make Irene be silent; so long as you are quick, Papa will never know. But you must come downstairs now

.” Edward coughed again. “After you’ve put some clothes on, of course.”

Galen sat blear-eyed and staring at the carpet through her entire speech. Damnation. Too soon! The plan was for Mrs. Vesey to arrange a visit at her house, where they could speak in greater safety—and even that had worried him enough that he’d scarcely slept last night. But Miss Northwood, it seemed, was too impatient to wait.

Unless she didn’t intend conversation. Perhaps she’d come to Leicester Fields to cry off their betrothal.

That thought jolted him to unpleasant wakefulness. Edward was already there, with a shirt and breeches and everything else he needed; Galen was at present wearing only a set of drawers. Cynthia, blushing a little, retired to let him dress. Galen hurried everything on, with such speed that he almost went out without his wig; fortunately, his valet was more alert than he.

At the door to the parlor, he stopped and tried to slow his heartbeat. But the pounding refused to answer to the commands of his will, and so it still shook his ribs when he walked in and found Delphia Northwood waiting on the settee with his sister.

“I’ll see to Irene,” Cynthia said with a mischievous giggle, and slipped past Galen. What she thought they intended, he could only imagine; surely it fell far short of the truth. Whichever truth that might be.

What did a woman look like when she had made up her mind to cry off? He had no idea. Miss Northwood was letting nothing slip; the firm clasp of her gloved hands upon each other could have indicated anything at all. He stood in awkward silence, not knowing what he could possibly say.