Heartless(59)

But Mary Ann was not sharing her smile. She was making a grid of matches on the floor, her brow drawn.

With that look, all of Cath’s happiness started to crumble. She knew that look. She could bet that it was the same look she’d given to Jest when he’d stood here in this very bedroom and asked if he would see her at the Turtle Days Festival.

No matter how spectacular the night had been, it could not happen again.

Catherine propped herself up on her elbows. “I know what you’re thinking, and I know you’re right. The King has asked for a courtship and I’ve agreed to it. I would be ruined if anyone knew about tonight and I … It won’t happen again. I’m not a fool. Or … I’m going to stop being a fool. Tonight. Now.”

“That isn’t what I was thinking at all,” Mary Ann said. “Although you’re right. This would cause such a scandal—an embarrassment not only to you, but to the Marquess and the entire household.”

Cath looked away.

“But what I was really thinking was that you talk about him like … like you talk about a piece of decadent chocolate cake.”

A honk of a laugh escaped Cath before she could help it. “He is not a piece of cake!”

“No, but I can tell you’re already anticipating the time you’ll see him again, and you’re flushed and smiling the same way you do when you’re perfectly satisfied. And … your mother would forbid them both.”

Cath swallowed, her spirits dampened.

“It’s a shame you can’t feel this way about the King.”

“I can’t.”

“I know.”

Cath sighed. “It won’t matter. I can’t do anything until this courtship is resolved.” She shook her head. “And nothing has changed. It was just a single night, one fun night. I wanted to know what it was like to be … someone else, for once.” Reaching over, she took hold of Mary Ann’s hand, and pulled her down to lie on the carpet beside her. Even after all these years she was surprised to feel the calluses on her friend’s palm. “What’s most important is that everyone who was there tonight will be avid patrons of our bakery. They loved the macarons, every one of them. So that’s what I need to be focusing on now, and that’s plenty enough to be thinking about without kings and jokers and tea parties getting into the mix.”

Her statement was followed by a stretched-thin quiet, before Mary Ann turned her head and gave Cath’s hand a gentle squeeze. “It may be true that you can’t be a baker and a lady, or a baker and a queen … but there is no rule that you can’t be a baker and a wife. If you truly are fond of the Joker, perhaps it isn’t so hopeless after all.” Her brows furrowed. “That is … if he would still want you, if you were no longer the heir to Rock Turtle Cove.”

“For shame, Mary Ann! Do you mean to say that his interest could lie more in my dowry and title, when I’m so utterly charming?” Cath said it as a joke, though there was also a sting of na?veté in the back of her thoughts. How had it not occurred to her that her family’s wealth could, indeed, be his motivation?

No, she couldn’t believe it. He seemed to like her. Truly, honestly like her. He had even implied that she could be reason enough for him to stay in Hearts … but he also knew she was being courted by His Majesty. He knew there were people who believed she was going to be the next Queen of Hearts.

And still he had dared to ask to see her again.

Did he want her, or did he want something from her?

She shook her head, shoving the thoughts away. Jest had shared a great secret with her. What reason did she have to doubt him?

“I mean to say,” amended Mary Ann, “that I do not know him. And despite how willingly you’ve gone gallivanting about with him after dark, I am not convinced that you know him, either.”

Cath hummed, thinking of the dream. His dimpled smile, receding farther and farther away. The hollowness in her chest. Her hands reaching after him, trying to take back what he had stolen, but he was always out of reach.

“You’re right,” she said. “I suppose I don’t know him very well at all.”

A Joker. A Rook. A mystery.

Perhaps she didn’t know him, but she was more certain than ever that she desperately wanted to.





CHAPTER 23

THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED were among the most torturous Cath had ever known.

It became habit to check her window for white roses and peer into the tree boughs for black ravens, but there was no sign of Jest or his companion. Jest did not try to steal her away for another midnight rendezvous. Nor did he come to her door and ask to speak to her father and make a case for why he should be allowed to court her.

Which was, of course, a good thing—practically speaking. And yet she couldn’t stopper the fantasies of him doing just that, and her father somehow, miraculously, impossibly agreeing to it.

The King’s courtship, on the other hand, had begun in earnest, and the courtship meant constant nagging from her mother. Why hadn’t His Majesty invited Catherine to another gathering? Why wasn’t Catherine doing more to put herself in his path? When was he going to propose? What flowers should they choose for the bridal bouquet? On and on and on.

“Another delivery for Lady Catherine,” said Mr. Penguin. Their butler was dwarfed by a humongous flower arrangement, with only his webbed feet and black coattails visible beneath.