The Cure for Dreaming(28)
I waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, I fastened my top coat button and asked, “Yes?”
His foot nestled against mine. “It’s my firm belief that you will be the savior of my poor broken heart. You’re exactly what I need.”
Shadows hid his face too much for me to get a good look at him, but the weight of his expectations—his overconfidence in my sweetness—bore down on my shoulders. I clamped my teeth together.
If he had my vision of the world, if he had seen me the way I truly was, he would have thrown me off the buggy right then and there and kept on driving into the mist.
ercy slowed the buggy as we approached a sandstone fortress with a terra-cotta roof and a half-dozen turrets. Electric lanterns and chandeliers lit the entire building, and an arched wooden door, wide and thick enough to fend off both hurricane winds and invading armies, guarded the front entrance. Six other buggies stood alongside the curb in front of the castle, and the resting horses exhaled clouds of foggy breath through their wide nostrils.
“Whoooa.” Percy tugged on Mandolin’s reins and brought the white horse to a stop behind an enclosed carriage with no driver. He must have been warming up with a mug of coffee in the Eiderlings’ kitchen. “There’s a good boy,” said Percy. “Well done, Mandolin.”
The horse nickered, and Percy tossed the reins to the ground and climbed out of the buggy.
I gazed at the mansion beside us, my stomach growling in anticipation of the awaiting feast inside. I remembered the words Kate had shouted up at me when I climbed onto the stage to meet Henry: Go on, Livie. Don’t be shy. My blood thrummed with expectation.
“Wait until you taste the food here, Olivia.” Percy tied Mandolin’s reins to a black hitching post shaped like a horse’s head. “Mr. Eiderling lets the boys sample his beer, so I always have a crackerjack time at Sadie’s parties.”
“Oh.” I flinched, triggering a small whine from the buggy’s springs. “I didn’t know you’d be drinking . . .”
“Does that bother you?”
“I don’t . . . Maybe.”
He peeked over his shoulder with a crooked grin. “What are you, a temperance crusader?”
I threw up my hands. “Why is everyone so concerned about me and the temperance movement? I just don’t want to be driven recklessly through the city by someone who’s guzzled too much beer.”
“Mandolin won’t be squiffed, and that’s what counts—unless the butler brings out a bucket of ale for the beasts when we’re not looking.” He laughed at his own words, his chuckles cracking through the silence of the street.
I fussed with my white kid gloves and noted how every inch of fabric that I wore looked wrinkled and wrong. “Do I look nice enough to be here, Percy?”
“What type of question is that?” Percy strode over to my side of the buggy and offered his hand with a wiggle of gloved fingers. “Come on down, my pet.” While supporting my arm and waist, he lowered me off the buggy onto the solid dirt ground and bent his face close to mine. “You have nothing to fear, Olivia. Do you understand?”
“Yes.” I nodded, for I didn’t see any sights that warned of danger.
Percy planted my hand on his arm and escorted me up the stone pathway to the broad castle door.
In response to Percy’s raps with the round iron knocker, the Eiderlings’ butler—a portly, gray-haired fellow with the sagging jowls of a bulldog—hoisted open the door.
“Good evening,” said the butler, every letter enunciated to perfection.
Percy removed his top hat. “Good evening, Mr. Burber. Mr. Percy Acklen and guest for the supper party, if you please.”
“Please step inside, Mr. Acklen. Miss Eiderling has already gathered the guests in the dining room.”
“Thank you.” Percy handed the butler his hat and scarf and slid his arms out of his overcoat, revealing a gray silk bow tie and a fine black tailcoat that complemented his striped trousers. “I hope we’re not too late.”
“Miss Eiderling likes to be prompt. I believe she’s already asked for the first course to be served.”
“Well, she is the birthday girl, after all.”
Without responding to Percy, the butler took my coat and hung it on a tall cedar rack that reminded me of a scraggly old tree. An impressive collection of jackets and wraps already dangled from the crooked branches.
Percy offered me his arm again and led me across the grand entrance behind the butler. The soles of our shoes clopped on the polished marble floor that reflected our feet and the swishing hem of my purple skirt. Above us rose lofty, gold-accented walls and a sky-high ceiling that gleamed as white as fresh porcelain dentures.
“I smell oysters and salmon,” said Percy, and his stomach rumbled. “And beer. Lovely, lovely beer.”
We ventured down a mirrored hall the length of my entire house, toward the sound of laughter and the soft clinks of silverware brushing against dishes. Percy carried himself with grace, his head held high, his shoulders relaxed, his dark evening suit pressed and flawless.
“How do you know Sadie?” I asked before we reached the end of the hall. “Doesn’t she go to Saint Mary’s Academy?”
“My father helped her father avoid a lawsuit earlier this year. And”—he smiled, and that smile was reflected in the mirror beside us, magnifying his amusement—“I think she’s secretly in love with me. That’s why she invites me to her parties. I’m a toy she can’t have, because her parents consider me beneath her.”