Page 8 of Notorious

Drusilla opened the door at the end of the hall, and they both froze and stared: it was a magical place, a huge room constructed from hundreds of panes of faceted glass.

“My goodness,” she whispered, stepping inside. Outside, it was a rare night in London when even a few stars were visible, the moon surrounded by silvery wisps of clouds.

“It’s fabulous,” Eva said, her head tipped back as she gazed through the plate glass above their heads. “And it smells divine.”

It did. It smelled of fresh earth, citrus from the potted trees, and a dozen kinds of flower.

“This is so much nicer than that stuffy ballroom.” Eva extended her arms and spun in a circle, laughing, her white muslin billowing around her, its tattered hem dragging.

Drusilla opened her reticule, which held more items than most people’s medicine chests—it was her way to always be prepared for any emergency—and rooted for the small paper with pins.

“I’m dizzy,” Eva said in a breathy voice, landing with a thud beside Drusilla on the stone bench.

“Let’s see the damage, Eva.”

Eva swiveled on her bottom and put her feet across Drusilla’s lap, flopping back onto the bench. Drusilla couldn’t help smiling; Eva behaved like a girl half her age—unaffected and childlike. She’d always been this way. When they’d been at school together, most of the other girls had either teased Eva or avoided her entirely, put off by her wild and unpredictable behavior. It was true that a person could never guess what Eva might do in any given situation; she seemed to lack the filter other people were born with.

Of course, those same girls had taunted Drusilla, too, albeit for different reasons. She was a merchant’s daughter, a girl with the smell of the shop about her.

Dru and Eva had been inseparable almost from the moment they’d met each other at Miss Barnstaple’s Academy for Young Ladies.

Eva had made school not just bearable for Dru, but enjoyable. But then, between their third and fourth years, Eva had become ill and not returned to school. That last year without Eva had been miserable. As had her first two Seasons without her friend.

Eva should have had her first Season last year, but she’d taken a long time to fully recuperate. Drusilla knew her friend had made the most of her illness, hoping her parents would forget about a Season altogether. But this year she’d been forced to make her debut at the grand old age of nineteen, almost twenty.

Drusilla placed the last of her pins in the ripped hem and examined her repair work.

“This will not last long if you are not careful,” Drusilla warned her friend.

“Careful? Do you mean with all my dancing?”

Eva was so lovely it was hard to believe she lacked for dance partners, but Drusilla knew it to be the truth. Her friend’s unpredictable and unconventional behavior appeared to frighten off potential suitors as much as the rumors of madness. She didn’t help her situation by sitting in corners with Drusilla.

Eva took a deep breath and swung her feet down, stood, and lifted the hem of her skirt to examine it. “As good as new,” she pronounced. “Are you ready to return to the ballroom?”

Drusilla wasn’t. This room was far too magical to leave, but . . . “I suppose I’d better go check on Aunt Vi and—”

Eva laid her hands on Drusilla’s shoulders and smiled down at her. “You stay here and take a few moments to rest. I’ll check on her.”

Drusilla gave her friend a dubious look. “Are you certain?”

“Quite.”

“But it will be supper and your brother will wonder what has become of you.”

“I’ll tell him all is well after checking on your aunt, and then I’ll return and we can enjoy this beautiful, magical garden together until after supper, when we can ask Gabriel to take us home. Is that not an excellent idea?” Eva looked hopeful. She was constantly seeking ways to either get out of ton functions entirely or leave early. Drusilla knew she shouldn’t encourage Eva’s behavior, but . . .

“Promise you won’t go anywhere, Dru?”

“I promise, just—”

“Good—then I’ll be back soon.” Eva spun and headed toward the door at an unladylike trot.

“Don’t forget to check on Aunt Vi first,” Drusilla reminded her.

Eva did a clumsy pirouette, stumbled, and then laughed before pulling open the door. “I shan’t,” she called out, and then disappeared.

Well, that was Eva: unable to behave like a lady no matter how often she’d been disciplined in school. Drusilla envied her friend her carefree nature and her ease when it came to doing exactly what she wanted—no matter the consequences.