“Lord Haftenravenscher,” she said, unsmiling.
Lord Teddie shrank. He shoved his hands in his pockets, took them out, shoved them in again. He nodded at the portrait.
“I—just brought it,” he said. “I—hoped you would be here. Do you like it? I remembered your mum from ages ago, and when I found out she…you know…she—anyway, I thought, wouldn’t it be chuffing if I collected all the pictures I could find of her and had Carrivegh—that’s our family painter, Carrivegh—paint her. And it could be a surprise for you all. Because, well. You hadn’t a mum now.”
Bramble’s lips were tight. Her fists still shook.
“Take it back,” she said. She gazed at the floor, but the words whipped. “We don’t want the picture. We don’t want your charity. Take it back!”
Teddie drew himself up to his full, towering taffy height.
“N—dash it—O!” he said. “It’s not charity and I won’t take it back! It’s a gift! A gift, dash it all! Because I liked your mum! And I like your sisters! And you, Bramble! I love you!”
The words echoed. Everyone’s hands clasped over their mouths, and they stared at Lord Teddie, who panted but kept a tight chin up. Bramble’s lips were still pursed. They were white.
“Young man,” said the King gently. “Your ship leaves soon?”
Azalea guessed that, with the fiasco of everything, the King had annulled any arrangements between Bramble and Lord Teddie. Lord Teddie’s entire taffylike form slumped. He turned to go, all bounciness dissolved.
“Do you mean it?”
Lord Teddie turned quickly. Bramble’s lips remained tight, but her gaze was up, blazing yellow.
“Gad, yes,” said Lord Teddie. “I love you so much, my fingers hurt!”
“Oh!” Bramble slapped her hands over her mouth, and doubled over. “Oh—oh-oh-oh!” She shook. It was hard to tell if she was crying, or coughing, or ill. “Oh!”
In a billow of skirts, Bramble leaped. It was a grand jeté worthy of the Delchastrian prima ballerina. She landed right on Lord Teddie, who had no choice but to catch her, and threw her arms around his neck. Then, to everyone’s shock, she pressed her lips full on his.
“Oh…my,” said Clover.
No one seemed more surprised than Lord Teddie, who stumbled back under Bramble’s assault. He staggered onto the magicked rug. In a blur of red, the rug clapped over them like a red snapdragon.
The entire package overbalanced and fell to the ground with a whumpf.
No one moved inside the rug. Everyone stared.
“Sorry,” said Eve. “What just happened?”
From the rug came a muffled Mmm mmm mmfph.
“We’d better take them out,” said Azalea. “Before they start to digest.”
With Clover’s help, she peeled the carpet back to reveal Bramble, snuggled in Lord Teddie’s arms, her nose buried in his bright green bow tie, and nearly crying.
“—the ballroom windows and when I saw you I thought I would cry, you were so brave—”
“I say,” said Lord Teddie. “I say!”
The King grasped Bramble around the middle and pulled her from Lord Teddie’s arms. The carpet end slipped from Azalea’s hands and snapped again over Lord Teddie.
“Bramble, really!” said the King.
Bramble’s face had the largest grin Azalea had ever seen on it.
The King looked at a loss. He ran his fingers through his hair, distracted. Azalea, knowing Mother would have been able to manage this, stepped forward.
“Lord Teddie?” she said. “Will you stay for tea?”
“Rather!” said the carpet.
Before Lord Teddie’s ship left, he was allowed one hour in the gardens with Bramble, chaperoned by Mr. Pudding. All the girls stared out the windows, watching Lord Teddie and Bramble chatter up a storm, then run off, leaving Mr. Pudding lost in the snowy gardens. The girls made a great search for them, and finally, after an hour’s hunting, they found them in the butterfly forest, Bramble sitting on an overturned bucket and giggling while Lord Teddie kissed her fingers. Both Mr. Gasperson and the King dragged him away, late for the ship. Bramble leaned on the newel post, looking dizzy, and beaming.
Bramble’s constant gushing chatter of Lord Teddie did not improve things with Clover. As much as Azalea disliked Fairweller, she couldn’t bear hearing Clover weep late into the night. Clover had lost her appetite, too, only picking at her food and giving most of it to Ivy. Azalea worried.
“I honestly don’t know how in the world you could even like him, Clover,” said Delphinium, one morning as January drew to a close. They had moved back into the palace, now that the windows were all set, and were delighted to be back in their own boring, unmagicked room. Sunlight poured through the windows as they dressed, casting gold over everything.
Clover remained sitting on the edge of her bed, clutching the ends of her shawl and saying nothing.