Rebel Angels

"Is that the quadrille?"

"No," I say ."Sounds like another waltz."

"Oh, thank heaven. Tom has asked me to dance the quadrille. I wouldn't want to miss it."

Felicity is momentarily stunned. "Tom?"

Ann's beaming."Yes. He said he wanted to hear all about my uncle and how I came to be a lady. Oh, Gemma, do you think he likes me?"

What have we done? What will happen when the ruse is discovered? I've an uneasy feeling about it."Do you truly like him?"

"Very much. He is so . . . respectable."

I choke on the pulp in my lemonade.

"How are you faring with Mr. Middleton?" Felicity asks.

"He is a most accomplished dancer," I say. I'm torturing them, of course.

Felicity swats me playfully with her dance card. "That is all you have to say? He is a very accomplished dancer?" "Do tell," Ann presses. Mrs. Bowles has caught up to us. Now she hovers near, hoping for a bit of conversation, a bite of scandal.

"Oh, dear, I've a rip in my gown," I say.

Ann angles her body to look at my skirt. "Where? I don't see one."

Felicity catches on. "Oh, yes. We must get you to the cloakroom at once. One of the maids can mend it. Don't mind us, Mrs. Bowles!"

Before our chaperone can say a word, Felicity spirits us away, down a flight of stairs till we're in a small conservatory.

"Well?"

"He is very lovely. It's as if I've known him all my life," I say.

"He doesn't care much for me," Felicity says.

Does she know what he's said to me about her? I blush thinking of how I could have come more to her defense."Why do you say that?"

"He meant to court me. I refused him last year, and he's never forgiven me."

I feel as if I've been kicked hard. "I thought you had no interest in Simon?"

"Yes, exactly. I've no feelings for him. You didn't ask if he cared for me."

My good feelings have fallen to the bottom of my stomach, like confetti littering a dance floor. Has Simon been paying attention to me all this time as a way to goad Felicity? Or does he really care for me?

"I think we should return to the ball," I say, heading for the first floor, walking faster than is necessary, just enough to leave a gulf between Felicity and me. I don't feel like joining the happy crowd just yet. I need a moment to gather myself. At the far side of the room lies a pair of French doors that lead to a small balcony. I slip outside, gazing out at the wide expanse of Hyde Park. In the bare trees, I see Felicity, tempting in her low-cut gown, and me, the tall, gangly creature playing dress-up; the girl who is haunted by visions. Felicity and Simon. They could live an uncomplicated life together. They would be pretty and fashionable and well traveled. Would she understand his witty jokes? Would he even make them with her? Perhaps she would make his life a horror. Perhaps.

The cold air is a help to me. With each bracing breath, my head clears a bit more. Soon, I find I am recovered enough to be chilled. Below, the coach- and footmen have gathered about a coffee stall. They cuddle cups of the hot drink in their hands while pacing back and forth in the snow, trying to keep warm. These balls must be a misery to them. For a moment I think I see Kartik. But then I remember that he is gone.

The evening plays on in dances and whispers, smiles and promises. The champagne has flowed freely, and people laugh merrily,

forgetting their cares. Soon, the chaperones lose interest in guarding their charges, preferring to dance themselves or play whist and other card games in a room downstairs. When at last Simon returns to the ballroom from his card game, I am all nerves.

"There you are," he says, smiling. "Have you saved me another dance?"

I can't help myself."I thought perhaps you might be dancing with Miss Worthington."

He frowns. "A dance with the carnivorous Felicity? Why? Has she eaten all the other available gentlemen?"

I'm so relieved by this that I laugh in spite of my friendship with Felicity."I shouldn't laugh. You're being horrible."

"Yes," Simon says, raising an eyebrow."I'm very good at being horrible. Would you like to find out?"

"What do you mean?"

"Shall we take a walk?"

"Oh," I say, my fear mixed with a sliver of excitement. "I'll just inform Mrs. Bowles then."

Simon smiles. "It is only a walk. And look how she's enjoying a dance. Why should we disrupt her happiness?" I don't wish to upset Simon, to make him think I'm such a bore. But it is improper for me to leave with him alone. I don't know what to do. "I really should inform Mrs. Bowles. . . ."