Rebel Angels

The twinkle is back in his eyes."Smoke and mirrors," he says with a wink."Smoke and mirrors."

That is my fear. How long will the magic work? No, I shan't worry about that now. It has worked, and he is my own dear father again, and in a moment, I shall have dinner with a handsome young man who finds me interesting, for some reason.

We are greeted by a phalanx of footmen and maids in uniforms so pressed their creases could draw blood. It seems there is a servant for everything. Grandmama is beside herself with excitement. If she were to stand any straighter, her spine might snap. We're ushered into a very large parlor. Simon stands by the fire, deep in conversation with two gentlemen. He gives me a wolfish grin. I immediately look off into the distance, as if I have just noticed the papered walls and am fascinated beyond measure, though my heart beats out a new rhythm: He likes me; he likes me; he likes me. I've little time to swoon. Lady Denby swoops through the room making introductions, her stiff skirts rustling with every step. She greets a gentleman warmly but is rather cool to his wife.

If Lady Denby likes you, you are set for life. If she finds you wanting in any way, you are shunned.

My tongue cleaves to the roof of my mouth. I cannot swallow. She gives me a solid looking-over as she approaches. Simon's beside her in an instant.

"Mother, may I present Mr. John Doyle; his mother, Mrs. William Doyle; Mr. Thomas Doyle; and Miss Gemma Doyle. Thomas is a chum from my Eton days. He's currently a clinical assistant under Dr. Smith at Bethlem Hospital," Simon adds.

His mother is smitten with Tom immediately. "Why, Dr. Smith is an old friend. Tell me, is it true you have a patient who was once a member of Parliament?" she asks, hoping for a bit of gossip.

"Madam, if we confined the lunatics of Parliament, there'd be no Parliament left," Father jokes, forgetting that Simon's father is a member himself. I may die.

Surprisingly, Lady Denby laughs at this. "Oh, Mr. Doyle! You are quite the wit." The breath leaves my body in a small whoosh that

I hope cannot be detected.

The butler announces dinner. Lady Denby rounds up her guests like a seasoned general marshaling his troops for battle. I am doing my best to remember all Mrs. Nightwing has taught me about manners. I'm deathly afraid HI commit some hideous faux pas and cast my family into enduring shame.

"Shall we?" Simon offers his arm and I loop mine through his. I've never taken the arm of a man who was not my blood relative. We keep a respectful distance between us, but that does nothing to stop the current coursing through me.

After the soup, we're given roast pork. The sight of a pig on a platter with an apple in its mouth does nothing to whet my appetite. While the others prattle on about country estates, fox hunting, and the problem of finding good help, Simon whispers, "I hear he was a very disagreeable pig. Always complaining. Never a nice word for anyone. He once bit a duckling in spite. I shouldn't feel guilty about eating him if I were you."

I smile. Lady Denby's voice breaks the moment. "Miss Doyle, there is something familiar about you."

"I--I was a guest of Mrs. Worthington's at the Alexandra yesterday, to hear Miss Bradshaw sing."

"Miss Bradshaw sang?"Tom is delighted to hear of Ann's social rise."How delightful."

My eyes are on Lady Denby, who says,"Yes, strange business that. Mr. Middleton," she says, addressing her husband, "have you ever met the Duke of Chesterfield?"

"Can't say as I have, unless he's a hunting man."

Lady Denby purses her lips as if mulling something over, then says, "I hear you are attending Spence?"

"Yes, Lady Denby," I answer nervously.

"How do you find it?" she inquires, taking a serving of roast potatoes. I feel like an insect under the intense focus of the microscope.

"It is a most agreeable school," I say, averting my eyes.

"Of course, she had a proper English governess while in India," Grandmama interjects, ever afraid of social impropriety. "I did fear sending her away from home, but I was assured that Spence was a fine finishing school."

"What do you think, Miss Doyle? Are you inclined to believe that young ladies should be taught Latin and Greek these days?" Lady Denby asks.

It is not an innocent question. She is testing me, I am sure. I take a deep breath. "I believe it is just as important for daughters to be learned as it is for sons. Else how can we be able wives and mothers?" It is the safest answer I can muster.

Lady Denby gives a warm smile."I quite agree, Miss Doyle. What a sensible girl you are."