Cinderella Six Feet Under(118)

“You may insist,” Griffe said, “but gentlemen rarely undergo change. Particularly after matrimony.”

Their footsteps receded.

Ophelia whispered to Penrose, “I recall you speaking of Miss Banks with great enthusiasm last month in Paris. Congratulations on your engagement. Your swift engagement.”

“Miss Flax. What I told you three weeks ago . . . I beg your pardon about all that.” Penrose adjusted his spectacles. “I was rash and, indeed, mistaken. Paris had gone to my head, I suppose.”

Ophelia swallowed. “I see.” He’d taken that I love you back. Well. What an absolute relief.

“I do hope I did not cause you a moment of unease,” he said.

“Unease? No. Certainly not. I will see you at dinner, I reckon.” Ophelia stepped out from behind the suits of armor and hurried out of the gallery, in the opposite direction that Griffe and Miss Banks had gone.

And this lump in her throat? Well, it must be that she was thirsty from traveling all day.