Belladonna (Belladonna #1)(65)
“A coincidence, indeed.” Signa couldn’t tell if it was her heart fluttering or nerves getting the best of her stomach. Everett was, on paper, everything Signa had ever wanted—handsome, charming, kind, and an evident socialite. She didn’t care much about his status but supposed that it could only be beneficial if the attention of those who sneaked sly, interested glances at them was any indicator. But good God, if just having tea was such an exhausting feat every time she had to do it, Signa hadn’t a clue how she’d manage becoming the socialite she’d always dreamed of being. She wished, vaguely, that she were able to ask her mother how she’d done it.
Signa took another too-hot sip and sampled a cucumber sandwich before spreading butter across a crumpet, letting Percy do the talking while she took care of the food—the sooner it was gone, the sooner they could head back to Thorn Grove and Blythe, and the sooner she could get out of her own head.
Percy put on a display of gentlemanly behavior, flattering Eliza and wooing her in a way that delighted the young woman. He seemed every bit the lady’s man that his father had allegedly been, asking Charlotte and Eliza of their hobbies and whether they’d seen any performances at the opera recently. He refilled Eliza’s teacup with the utmost attentiveness, dripping with more charm than Signa had thought him capable of. Charlotte, meanwhile, spoke to Everett of his many travels.
Signa listened with great fascination as they discussed parties and sporting events she hadn’t been privy to, and joined the conversation when Everett pressed for information about her interests and what she and Percy were doing in town. Percy, of course, came up with a lie before she’d been able to answer. All the while, Signa was too aware of the rigidness of her spine and how her neck ached from trying to keep it so straight. She was certain she’d broken several dining etiquette rules—like what foods to eat in what order, when to put the sugar into her tea, how many fingers to use when she held the cup to her lips—but fortunately, no one mentioned any quibbles, though she did catch Eliza gaping at her a few times. While the rules were embedded somewhere in Signa’s brain, the practice of them felt unnatural. Eventually, she ceased eating and drinking altogether, as to not offend everyone in the room who watched her at Lord Wakefield’s side.
The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur. Signa asked few questions, unable to fully relax for fear that she’d do or say something wrong. Perhaps it was silly to worry so, given that Eliza was too thoroughly enamored with Percy and her own fan waving to care about the number of scones Signa consumed, and that Everett and Charlotte were nothing if not cordial. Still, stress was summoning hives across her skin, and her stomach was queasy.
Finally, as the tea ran cold and the food disappeared, Percy set his folded napkin upon the table and stood. Everett followed suit, helping Signa and then Charlotte out of their chairs. When they were all standing, he offered Signa his hand.
A moment of panic surged through her before she took it and allowed him to escort her outside.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” he said, his smile gleaming with the straightest, whitest teeth Signa had ever seen. “I’m looking forward to getting to know you better, Miss Farrow, over the course of the upcoming season.”
For years Signa had imagined a moment like this. In it, however, she’d never envisioned that she’d have sweat along her back or that her dying cousin would be waiting for her to come and deliver her a cure. It was too much for Signa to even think about, which was why she detached herself from Everett and grabbed on to Percy, hoping her smile looked convincing. “I’m looking forward to it as well,” she told Everett, discreetly digging her fingers into Percy’s arm until he clasped his hand over hers and smiled.
So genuine was Everett’s smile that Signa’s stomach twisted with guilt. Yet she knew there was no time for that, for there were matters far more pressing. With a final goodbye, she turned and hauled Percy to the carriage that waited to take them home to Blythe.
TWENTY-SEVEN
PERCY DREW THE CURTAINS SHUT THE MOMENT THEY WERE IN THE carriage, exhaling as he sank low into the seat. “I can’t believe we were almost seen in that apothecary.” His lips pinched tight, he appeared so much sterner than he’d been minutes prior. The severity of the quick change in his demeanor gave Signa whiplash. “Especially in front of the duke’s son.”
Signa wished the carriage would go faster. “Does it truly matter if they saw us?” she asked. “I’d expect anyone with half a heart might understand our desperation and be open to considering alternative remedies for Blythe.”
“I’d hope that, too,” he said. “But it may also make them suspicious.”
Her defenses were rising. “What do you mean, suspicious?”
“I mean that the longer I think about it, the stranger I find the convenience of you just happening to know what’s ailing my sister, let alone finding an alleged antidote.” His green eyes narrowed. “I want to trust you, cousin, but I must admit that I find your sudden interest in Blythe quite odd. She’s been worse ever since you arrived, and I’m finding it difficult to deny that you might be the reason.”
It was dread that Signa felt then. Cold, icy dread leaking into her stomach. The look in Percy’s eyes wasn’t one she’d seen before; it was distant, venomous. But she understood it, for Blythe was his sister, and Signa had no doubt that she’d be willing to do whatever it took to protect her own sister, too, had she had one.