“One more,” she had insisted.
He had obliged her, and she had no idea how long he’d stayed there with his lips playing against hers, while she’d responded with deep-dreaming intensity. Eventually he’d left her, vanishing into the darkness like a cat.
Pandora was wrenched away from the pleasurable memory as she heard the clang of the tin slipper-box lid.
“There’s only one slipper,” she heard Ida say suspiciously. “Where’s the other?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why were you out of bed?”
“I was looking for a book, since I couldn’t sleep,” Pandora replied irritably, filled with worry. What if Gabriel hadn’t remembered to retrieve the other slipper from the hallway? And what about the fallen candle? If one of the servants had found the items . . .
“It must be here somewhere,” Ida fretted, crouching to look under the bed. “How do you lose things so easily? Gloves, handkerchiefs, pins—”
“Your talking is waking up my brain,” Pandora said. “I would have thought you’d be pleased for me to stay unconscious longer than usual.”
“I would,” Ida retorted, “but I have other things to do besides wait on you all morning, Lady Slugabed.” Standing with a huff, she left the room, and closed the door behind her.
Fluffing up her pillow, Pandora dove her head into it. “I’m going to hire a nice lady’s maid someday,” she grumbled. “One who doesn’t call me names and lecture me at dawn.” She turned to her back and then to her other side, trying to find a comfortable position. It was no use. She was awake, and that was that.
Would it be worth the effort to ring for Ida and try to dress in time for breakfast? No, she didn’t feel at all like hurrying. In fact, she didn’t know what she felt like. A strange mixture of emotions whisked around inside her . . . nervousness, excitement, melancholy, yearning, fear. Tomorrow was her last full day at Heron’s Point. She dreaded having to leave. She especially dreaded the things that would have to be said.
Someone tapped quietly on the door. Pandora’s heart lurched as she wondered if it might be Gabriel trying to return the missing slipper. “Yes?” she called out in a hushed voice.
Kathleen came into the room, her red hair glowing even in the dimness. “I’m sorry to disturb you, dear,” she said gently, coming to the bedside, “but I wanted to ask how you were feeling. Are you ill?”
“No, but my brain is tired.” Pandora inched closer to the edge of the mattress as she felt Kathleen’s cool, small hand smoothing back her hair and resting briefly on her forehead. From the moment Kathleen had come to the estate, she had been the closest thing to a mother Pandora had ever known, despite the fact that she was still a young woman herself.
“You have a great deal to think about,” Kathleen murmured, her face soft with sympathy.
“Whatever I decide is going to feel like a mistake.” Pandora’s throat cinched tight. “I wish Lord St. Vincent were a warty old windbag. Then everything would be easy. Instead, he’s odiously attractive and charming. It’s like he’s deliberately trying to make my life as difficult as possible. This is why I’ve never understood why people think the devil is a hideous beast with horns and claws and a forked tail. No one would be tempted by that.”
“You’re saying Lord St. Vincent is the devil in disguise?” Kathleen asked, sounding vaguely amused.
“He may as well be,” Pandora said morosely. “He’s made everything confusing. I’m like a goldfinch, thinking ‘Oh, that little cage looks so awfully nice with its gold bars and cozy velvet perch and that dish of millet-seed—it might be worth having my wings clipped for that.’ And then when the door latches shut, it will be too late.”
Kathleen patted her back comfortingly. “No one’s wings have to be clipped. I’ll support whatever you decide to do.”
Oddly, Pandora felt frightened rather than comforted by the reassurance. “If I don’t marry him, will our family be ruined? And Cassandra?”
“No. We’ll be grist for the gossip mill for a little while, but time will eventually soften everyone’s memory, and then any lingering stain on our reputation will only serve to make us very interesting dinner companions. And I promise we’ll find a perfectly nice husband for Cassandra.” Kathleen hesitated. “However, should you wish to marry in the future, this scandal might pose a problem for some men. Not all, but a few.”
“I won’t marry until women have the right to vote and make the laws fair. Which means never.” Pandora buried her face in the pillow. “Even the Queen opposes suffrage,” she added in a smothered voice.
She felt Kathleen’s gentle hand on her head. “It takes time and patience to change people’s way of thinking. Don’t forget that many men are speaking up for women’s equality, including Mr. Disraeli.”
Pandora flopped over to look up at her. “I wish he would speak up a bit more loudly, then.”
“One has to speak to people in a way they can hear.” Kathleen regarded her thoughtfully. “In any case, the law won’t change in the next two days, and you have a decision to make. Are you absolutely certain that Lord St. Vincent wouldn’t be supportive of your board game company?”
“Oh, he would support it, in the way a man supports his wife’s hobby. But it would always have to come second to everything else. It wouldn’t be convenient to have a wife who’s visiting her factory instead of planning out the dinner party. I’m afraid if I marry him, I’ll end up making one compromise after another, and all my dreams will die slowly while I’m busy looking the other way.”