Heartless(17)

Her pulse skittered. Twice a day? Once before breakfast?

A new sort of blush blossomed across her cheeks.

Noticing the look, the Joker released her hand, almost sheepish. “That is … you are the one, aren’t you?”

She stared at him, and in his eyes she saw the lemon tree that had grown in her bedroom overnight, its branches twisted around her bed’s canopy, heavy with sun-ripened fruit. “The one?”

“The future Queen of Hearts?”

The giddy euphoria left her in a single, painful breath. “I beg your pardon?”

“Oh, you needn’t beg.” Doubt crept across his brow. “Shall I apologize? I didn’t mean to be forward. It’s just that the King intended to ask for a lady’s hand in marriage during tonight’s ball, and … with your gown, I suppose I’d assumed…”

She looked down. Her skirt was a bright red nightmare engulfing her. “Did he say which girl he intended to ask?”

“No, my lady. I only know it was to be a daughter of a lord, though that hardly narrows down the list.” He leaned back on his hands. “What were you running from before?”

“Running from?” She forced a withering smile. “I was only wanting some fresh air. The ballroom can get so warm on nights like this.”

His eyes pinned her to the grass, growing concerned. “The King hadn’t yet made his announcement when you left?”

“I’ve heard nothing of it.”

She shivered, not quite guilty at the lie. What was happening inside the ballroom? Had the King called her up? Were they looking for her?

She glanced back toward the castle, surprised to see how far she’d run. The gardens seemed to stretch for miles and the ballroom windows glowed in the distance. She wondered about the crash she had heard and hoped Cheshire wasn’t in trouble.

The Joker rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe it is you, then. Perhaps I should escort you back…”

“No! No. Um.” She laughed uncomfortably. “I’m sure he meant to ask someone else. His Majesty has never shown me any particular interest.”

“I find that difficult to imagine.”

“It’s the truth.” She cleared her throat. “This might be a peculiar question, Mr.… er, Joker…”

“Jest. My name is Jest. My lady.”

“Ah—I’m Catherine Pinkerton.”

“It’s been a rightmost pleasure, Lady Pinkerton. What was your question?”

Cath fluffed the voluminous red fabric around her legs to give her fingers something to do while they went on feeling tingly and wanton. “Have you and I met before?”

“Before tonight?” He cupped his chin in his hand. “It seems unlikely.”

“I thought so as well.”

“Do I seem familiar?” His dimples made an appearance again.

“In a way. Most peculiarly, I do believe I dreamed about you.”

His eyebrows lifted. “About me?”

“It is strange, isn’t it?”

“Quite.” The word was subtle, surprised. He looked briefly unnerved, like when he had first spotted her and her red dress amid the sea of black and white. The self-assured visage slipped, just momentarily. “Perhaps we know each other in the future and you’re only remembering backward.”

She pondered this.

“So?” he prodded.

She blinked. “So what?”

“Was it a good dream?”

“Oh.” Her lips puckered in thought, but then she realized he was teasing her. She scowled. “To be frank, I found it rather dull.”

“Ah, but you can’t be Frank. You’ve already told me that your name is Catherine.”

“I’ve changed it.”

His laugh was unoffended. “At least the memory of this dream has brought some color back to your cheeks. You were white as a dove when you fainted. I’m sorry if Raven frightened you.”

She remembered the shadow stretching across the castle lawn—the hooded, ax-wielding figure towering over her. She shuddered. “No, it wasn’t Raven. It was … I thought I saw … nothing.”

“I see nothing all the time.”

“As I said before, it was very warm inside, that’s all. And I’ve barely eaten all day.”

“No doubt the corset of tortures didn’t help.”

Her scowl deepened. “A lady’s undergarments are not a suitable topic of conversation.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “Only a theory, my lady. I’m sure your lack of sustenance is much more the culprit. Here.” He reached for a pouch at his belt and retrieved a chocolate. “I was saving this for later, and so I must have been saving it for you.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t. I’m still a little faint. It will probably make me sick.”

“Some say it is better to have eaten and lost than never to have eaten at all.”

She furrowed her brows, confused, but his sincerity never faltered.

“In case you do get sick and the sweet makes its way up again.”

“That’s horrible.”

“I know. I should apologize.” Rather than apologizing, he held the sweet toward her. “I must insist that you eat, regardless of the risks. Should you happen to faint again while under my care, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop Raven from using that bucket.”