“Sorry,” I whispered, though I did not turn.
“What is the matter with you?” Dahria hissed, her irritation mounting. “Turn around, girl! Why can’t you—?” She hesitated, as if she had just seen or realized something. And then cooed, “I see. You do aim high, don’t you? But I told you that the Right Honorable Mr. Von Strahden already has a lady in his life.”
It took a moment for me to realize what she was saying, and another moment not to correct her. I liked Von Strahden well enough because he was kind to me and treated me like a person, but that was all. What Dahria’s remark also revealed was that she didn’t know Vestris was my sister.
In the instant I decided that it was better that way.
At my back, the group laughed politely and I felt again the glow of Vestris’s presence and the annoyance of being outside it. I turned abruptly and raised my bonneted face just enough that my sister’s eyes fell upon me.
They widened, and her glossy lips parted in the smallest gasp.
Something flashed through her face, something more than surprise, and then she was excusing herself and moving quickly away from the group so that Von Strahden looked after her, his brow furrowed.
I lowered my head and followed, muttering apologies.
Vestris left the busiest part of the lobby and vanished behind one of the massive ornamental columns by an empty tea salon. As soon as I rounded the column, she was whispering feverishly into my ear. “What are you doing here, Anglet?”
“I’m working as a lady’s maid,” I said, barely suppressing a giggle, like this was a game we were playing while we waited for Papa to come home from work.
“A maid?” Vestris demanded. “To whom?”
“Dahria Willinghouse,” I said, still grinning.
Her eyes narrowed.
“It’s just a bit of fun,” I said. “Not like a real job.”
“We can’t be seen together,” she said. “Not here.”
“Oh,” I said. She was right, but I was still a little crestfallen.
“I’m sorry, Ang, I really am, but reputation is everything with these people. If they knew … If they even thought…”
I saw the anxiety in her face and realized just how fragile her position was in this strange, elevated society, the Lani girl who made good. It was like being up on the chimneys. One false move …
“I know,” I said, meaning it. “I’m sorry. I just saw you and had to talk to you.”
“I understand,” she said, relaxing fractionally.
“I sent you a message, but you won’t have got it yet,” I said.
“What?” she asked, still flustered.
“Just a note,” I said, “so you could contact me. I sent it to the address on the card you gave me.”
“Yes,” she said. “Right. Ang, I’m sorry, but I really have to—”
“I know,” I said. “Go.”
She relented a little at that. “Are you all right?” she asked. “Do you need money? Is there anything I can do?”
And that was all I needed, that look of concern, that willingness to help. I was in the glow again, and for a moment, nothing else mattered. “I’m fine,” I said, smiling. “I don’t need anything. Go back to your friends.”
She leaned quickly under my bonnet and kissed me on the cheek, leaving once more the aroma of sandalwood and violets, and then she was gone.
I just stood there, cherishing the memory of her presence, her desire to help; then I took a breath and returned to Dahria, head bowed.
“There you are!” she said as I slid back to her side. “Where have you been, you maddening creature?”
I was about to mutter something about the toilet when I became aware of someone making a speech behind me. There was a patter of applause, and then the light changed, producing a soft intake of awe-inspired breath from the assembly.
I turned and glimpsed a large blond woman, middle aged and dressed in yards of pleated green taffeta that made her look like the prow ornament of a ship, beaming at the crowd, her arms open. At her throat she wore a pendant so bright that, even at this distance, it was hard to look directly at it.
“I think we just found the Dowager Lady Hamilton,” said Dahria.
There was more applause, heartfelt this time, and then the dowager adjusted something around the necklace, reducing its brilliance by two-thirds or more, and permitting closer inspection by her admirers. There was no sign of Vestris or Van Strahden.
“We need to get a closer look at that necklace,” I whispered.
“My area of expertise, I believe,” said Dahria, drawing herself up and slicing through the crowd like a clipper.