manners in front of them.
For a moment, the nursery actually sounded like an appealing option. But only for a moment.
I was concentrating so hard on avoiding the shift of arms and elbows all around me as I followed in Stepmama’s wake, I completely forgot to look where my feet were going. So the first sign of disaster didn’t come until it was too late.
I stepped back to avoid a swinging arm and landed on something soft. My right foot caught and slipped; my arms swung out, searching for balance; I pulled them back before I could hit anyone; and then I lost the battle altogether and fell flat onto my back in the middle of the crowd, knocking into at least three people on the way. My head hit the marble floor with a thud that was almost—but only almost—enough to drown out the ripping sound from around my feet, and the sounds of breaking glass nearby.
Nothing could have drowned out the shriek that came straight afterward. “My gown! What have you done to my new gown?”
I cringed and closed my eyes. Pain thudded through my skull. But there was no escape.
All the laughter and buzzing talk of the crowd vanished as if it had been sucked right out of the room. Then whispers erupted around us, and footsteps hurried toward me. I felt a cool, familiar hand against my cheek.
“Kat?” said Elissa. “Kat, can you hear me?” Her voice shifted as she spoke to someone else above me. “She did hit her head. Do you think she—?”
“Oh, she’s not unconscious,” Angeline said in a low, scathing whisper, from my other side. “She’s only embarrassed. As well she should be. Come on, Kat, you might as well get up before Stepmama can pull you up by your hair.”
I opened my eyes. My sisters both knelt beside me, and Stepmama was hurrying back toward me, rage in her eyes. Nearby, two footmen were cleaning up the remains of two broken wineglasses. I let Angeline help me up.
“I am sorry,” I said to the crowd at large, and heard my voice waver pathetically. “I tripped—”
“I ordered this gown all the way from Paris ,” said the voice I’d heard before. It came from a tall, fish-faced blond woman who wore an enormous silk turban like a Turkish sultan. She pointed down at the train of her crimson gown. The flounces around the hem had been torn half off; they hung limply from her skirts, dragging against the marble floor. “This was the first time I’d even worn it!”
The whispers intensified. I felt the whole crowd staring at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, and curtsied as well as I could. It made my head spin horribly. “I didn’t mean to, truly.”
“We are all so sorry,” Stepmama said. She gave me one of the most furious looks I’d ever seen from her. “Katherine is very young and inexperienced, and she will be—”
“You ordered that gown from Paris, you said?” Angeline repeated the woman’s words with a slight frown, speaking as lightly as if she were only mildly curious. But I knew that look in her eyes. “Is that not illegal, ma’am? In a time of war against the French? In fact, I thought it had been specifically prohibited by His Majesty’s government.”
“Well …” The woman fluttered her fan higher as color mounted in her thin cheeks. “That is hardly—”
“You would have had to order the gown rather than go to Paris yourself, naturally,” Angeline said thoughtfully, as Elissa’s face went paler and paler beside her. “For only the smugglers ever actually cross—”
“That is quite enough!” Stepmama said. “Madam.” She curtsied stiffly to the fish-faced woman. “You have our deepest apologies. From all of us. If you will do us the honor of having your gown conveyed to our apartments this evening, my own maid shall see to its repair.” Of course, what that really meant was that Stepmama would stitch it up herself. None of us had a maid to do our sewing for us.
The fish-faced woman drew herself up haughtily, folding her thin face into fishier lines than
For a moment, the nursery actually sounded like an appealing option. But only for a moment.
I was concentrating so hard on avoiding the shift of arms and elbows all around me as I followed in Stepmama’s wake, I completely forgot to look where my feet were going. So the first sign of disaster didn’t come until it was too late.
I stepped back to avoid a swinging arm and landed on something soft. My right foot caught and slipped; my arms swung out, searching for balance; I pulled them back before I could hit anyone; and then I lost the battle altogether and fell flat onto my back in the middle of the crowd, knocking into at least three people on the way. My head hit the marble floor with a thud that was almost—but only almost—enough to drown out the ripping sound from around my feet, and the sounds of breaking glass nearby.
Nothing could have drowned out the shriek that came straight afterward. “My gown! What have you done to my new gown?”
I cringed and closed my eyes. Pain thudded through my skull. But there was no escape.
All the laughter and buzzing talk of the crowd vanished as if it had been sucked right out of the room. Then whispers erupted around us, and footsteps hurried toward me. I felt a cool, familiar hand against my cheek.
“Kat?” said Elissa. “Kat, can you hear me?” Her voice shifted as she spoke to someone else above me. “She did hit her head. Do you think she—?”
“Oh, she’s not unconscious,” Angeline said in a low, scathing whisper, from my other side. “She’s only embarrassed. As well she should be. Come on, Kat, you might as well get up before Stepmama can pull you up by your hair.”
I opened my eyes. My sisters both knelt beside me, and Stepmama was hurrying back toward me, rage in her eyes. Nearby, two footmen were cleaning up the remains of two broken wineglasses. I let Angeline help me up.
“I am sorry,” I said to the crowd at large, and heard my voice waver pathetically. “I tripped—”
“I ordered this gown all the way from Paris ,” said the voice I’d heard before. It came from a tall, fish-faced blond woman who wore an enormous silk turban like a Turkish sultan. She pointed down at the train of her crimson gown. The flounces around the hem had been torn half off; they hung limply from her skirts, dragging against the marble floor. “This was the first time I’d even worn it!”
The whispers intensified. I felt the whole crowd staring at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said again, and curtsied as well as I could. It made my head spin horribly. “I didn’t mean to, truly.”
“We are all so sorry,” Stepmama said. She gave me one of the most furious looks I’d ever seen from her. “Katherine is very young and inexperienced, and she will be—”
“You ordered that gown from Paris, you said?” Angeline repeated the woman’s words with a slight frown, speaking as lightly as if she were only mildly curious. But I knew that look in her eyes. “Is that not illegal, ma’am? In a time of war against the French? In fact, I thought it had been specifically prohibited by His Majesty’s government.”
“Well …” The woman fluttered her fan higher as color mounted in her thin cheeks. “That is hardly—”
“You would have had to order the gown rather than go to Paris yourself, naturally,” Angeline said thoughtfully, as Elissa’s face went paler and paler beside her. “For only the smugglers ever actually cross—”
“That is quite enough!” Stepmama said. “Madam.” She curtsied stiffly to the fish-faced woman. “You have our deepest apologies. From all of us. If you will do us the honor of having your gown conveyed to our apartments this evening, my own maid shall see to its repair.” Of course, what that really meant was that Stepmama would stitch it up herself. None of us had a maid to do our sewing for us.
The fish-faced woman drew herself up haughtily, folding her thin face into fishier lines than
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