Minerva took refuge behind the screen. She was surprised her pounding heartbeat hadn’t knocked it over.
“I never despised you,” she said. “Just so you know.”
It was his turn to make a sound of utter disbelief.
“Very well, I may have despised you a little. But only because . . .” She sighed, unable to deny it any longer. “Only because I was so wretchedly infatuated with you. I didn’t want to be, but I couldn’t help it. All you had to do was glance my direction, and my heart would go all fluttery. Every time I tried to say something witty in your presence, it came out shrewish or dull. I’ve always considered myself an intelligent person, but I vow, Colin—no one has ever made me feel so stupid.”
“Well. That’s . . . oddly gratifying.”
She laughed a little at the memories, and at herself. “And all the while, everyone in Spindle Cove would talk about what a perfect match you made for Diana. I heard it at the tea shop, at the All Things, around the fire of an evening . . . Just underscoring again and again, no one would ever pair you with a girl like me. And that much I could have lived with, but the prospect of being your sister-in-law?” She swiped at a welling tear with her wrist. “I love my sister. I’ve always tried not to envy Diana her sweetness or elegance or beauty. But I would have envied her you, and the thought made me ill. So if we’re vying for the crown of Most Hopeless, I do think I had it won.”
After a long silence, he clapped his hands together. “I hope you’re ready to trade that crown for a five-hundred-guinea prize. I see our post-chaise out the window. It’s nearly ready.”
She emerged from behind the dressing screen. “How do I look?” She turned and fretted in the mirror. “Will the gown do?”
He came to stand behind her, settling his strong hands on her shoulders and waiting until she went still. “The gown will do. You, on the other hand . . .”
She . . . ? Wouldn’t?
Out of self-preservation, she tried to twist away from their reflection. His hands tightened on her shoulders, forbidding her to move. She watched him carefully, cautiously in the mirror as his gaze wandered her form.
She couldn’t take the suspense. “For God’s sake, Colin. What’s wrong?”
“You’re beautiful, Min,” he said, in a tone of wonderment. As if his own words took him by surprise. “Lord above. You’re stunning.”
She huffed a protest. “I’m not. You know I’m not.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“No one’s ever called me so before. I’m twenty-one years old. If I were beautiful, surely someone would have noticed by now.”
He seemed to think on this for a moment, dropping one hand to straighten the trim on her sleeve. “It is hard to imagine anyone overlooking beauty on this magnitude. Perhaps you weren’t beautiful until very recently.”
A nervous laugh rose in her throat. “I’m sure I haven’t undergone any dramatic transformation.” She searched her own reflection, just to make sure. The same wide brown eyes stared back at her, encircled by brass wire rims. They anchored the same rounded face and funny, heart-shaped mouth. Her skin had freckled and tanned over recent days, but other that that . . . “I’m the same as I ever was.”
“Well, I’m not,” he said simply, still drinking in her reflection. “I’m altered. Destroyed. Utterly laid waste.”
“Don’t. Don’t tease me.” I can’t bear to be hurt like that again.
“I’m not teasing you. I’m complimenting you.”
“That’s just it. I don’t want compliments. I’m not fanciful that way.”
“Not fanciful?” He laughed. “Min, you have the wildest imagination of anyone I know. You can look at a queer-shaped hole in the ground and see a vast, primeval landscape overrun with giant lizards. But it’s too much to believe you’re beautiful?”
She didn’t know what to say.
He mused, “Maybe ‘beautiful’ isn’t the proper word. It’s too common, and the way you look is . . . rare. You deserve a rare compliment. One sincerely meant, and crafted just for you. So there will be no doubt.”
“Really, you needn’t—”
“Hush. I’m going to compliment you. Honestly. No raven’s-wing nonsense. You needn’t say a word in return, but I will insist you stand there and take it.”
She watched him in the mirror as his brows drew into a frown of concentration.
“Once,” he said, “years ago, I heard this fellow speak at the Adventurers Club. He talked about his journeys into the Amazonian jungles.”
Minerva didn’t like where this excursion was headed. She had the dreadful feeling he was going to compare her to some strange carnivorous plant. One that lured its prey with garish red flowers and the scent of decaying meat.
“He was an entomologist, this fellow.”
Oh God. Worse! Insects. He was going to compare her to some giant hairy-legged jungle insect. One that spat venom, or ate small rodents.