Chapter Ten
“Gather ’round, lads,” Oliver said, tone both smug and gleeful. “I’ve something to share with you.”
Kalila twisted in her stool as the other men crowded around Oliver’s bench in eager anticipation.
Comerford had just brought the day’s lesson to a close, and Kalila was expected back at the townhouse to ready herself for Aunt Dalia’s impromptu ball.
She’d let herself hear whatever it was Oliver had to share before heading out, but only because she was curious.
Keep telling yourself that.
She knew she was wading through murky waters with him.
Pity had won over logic yesterday when she’d invited him in for tea, and Caroline had given her a much-deserved lecture after Oliver had left and Kalila had returned to the parlor.
But she’d only half listened, too distracted by the kiss he’d given her.
Well, not her. Her hand. Still.
The patch of skin in question began to tingle in remembrance, making her rub it against her waistcoat.
She was a sensible, rational woman who didn’t have time for any of this.
She wouldn’t have minded being friendly with Oliver, but she was smart enough to recognize what it meant when one’s heart jumped in their throat at the mere sight of a person.
And her heart had jumped in her throat this morning, just as it had when she’d seen the amused expression on his face as he’d watched Caroline and Amelia bicker.
It was an expression that had soon morphed into something odd and unknown to her—joy mixed with curiosity and melancholy, maybe.
The sight of it had been enough to distract her from the urgent necessity of keeping her guard up.
She was still supposed to keep her guard up.
“I’ve managed to get us—yes, all of us—invitations to a ball tonight,” Oliver announced. At the subsequent silence, he added, “It’s guaranteed to be a good one.”
His premature assessment of the event seemed to jolt the group back to life as the men began to murmur to one another.
Kalila gathered her things as Dunn began to make plans with Talbot and Young, their conversation brought to a halt when Jennings informed the group that they would finally be graced with his future wife’s presence.
“I can bring the carriage around,” a soft voice said. Kalila saw that Oliver had wiggled away from the other men. “If you’d like.”
“Oh.” Guilt rose in her chest. “I-I’ve a previous engagement.”
The corners of his lovely mouth tilted downward. “Right. Of course.”
“I’m sure you’ll let me know if anything of note happens,” she offered.
He grinned, his gloom disappearing in an instant. “Naturally.”
Kalila slid off her stool and picked up her coat. “Then I shall see you tomorrow morning.”
“You’d best keep your distance if you find me face down on the bench complaining about the sun being too bright,” he called after her.
Kalila left the room, biting back a smile. How ridiculous it was that Oliver Booth had been, in her mind, her greatest enemy at the Society. Even when she’d been out of her disguise, something about interacting with him had felt so organic.
And right.
Also, he’d kissed her. What was she to make of that?
Kalila mulled on the fleeting, soft press of his mouth to the back of her hand as she made her way to the townhouse. Amelia greeted her at the door, hair half done and dressed in nothing but a chemise and stays.
“There you are!” she chirped. “Caroline has offered to do our hair.”
“Is that Kalila?” Dameer stuck his head out of the parlor, saw Amelia in her state of undress, and swiftly turned his back. “Amelia!”
“What?” Amelia glanced down at herself. “What’s the matter?”
“You’re missing your gown,” Kalila told her, entertained enough to no longer be inundated with thoughts of Oliver Booth.
“I’m not naked.”
Dameer buried his head in his hands. “Amelia, please. Go upstairs.”
“Goodness,” Amelia said, doing as she’d been asked, “you can be so stuffy, Dameer.”
Kalila tapped Dameer on the shoulder as soon as Amelia had disappeared up the steps. “She’s gone.”
Her cousin didn’t bother to hide his embarrassment. “Thank you.”
“It’s all right,” Kalila assured him. “You’ve seen me in my nightgown before.”
“It’s different.”
“Maybe,” Kalila said, “but she didn’t seem to mind.”
“No,” Dameer agreed, casting his brown eyes to the floor. “I don’t know how to—you know.”
“We’re going to a ball,” she told him, hoping she was providing him some comfort. “You’ll get your chance.”
He hummed in acknowledgment. “I shouldn’t keep you. We’ll meet down here at seven.”
Kalila hesitated before going upstairs to find Caroline.
Dameer could sometimes be a touch too straitlaced, but it was usually when he was nervous.
She had no doubt that Amelia would change her tune if she only saw how relaxed Dameer could be in Painswick.
But it was hopeless—he was always nervous around Amelia.
“There you are!” Caroline crowed, pulling Kalila into her bedchamber and positioning her in front of a vanity. “I found the perfect hairpiece for you. Nobody will know that you’ve cut all your hair off.”
“Where’s Amelia?” Kalila asked, suddenly overwhelmed. She wasn’t quite sure she even wanted to go to Willow House. In fact, a very big part of her knew that she’d rather be readying herself for a different ball altogether.
With a different person.
“She’s gone to get dressed,” Caroline said, fiddling with Kalila’s curls. “How was the lecture today?”
Kalila winced as Caroline poked pins against her head. “Fine.”
Caroline looked at Kalila in the mirror and raised an arched eyebrow. “And Mr. Booth?”
“What about him?”
Caroline studied her for a moment before shrugging. “I understand, you know. Even if I did give you an earful last night.”
“There’s nothing to understand,” Kalila protested as Caroline began to pin a pile of curls to what was left of Kalila’s hair.
“I think there’s plenty to understand,” Caroline said, threading pearls throughout the hairpiece. “But we needn’t discuss it if you aren’t ready. Gown next. You can borrow one of mine.”
Ready?
She’d sworn that she’d never allow herself to be ready again.
Kalila was directed to Caroline’s wardrobe, where she saw an exquisite navy-blue gown. It was free of the lace trimmings of the lavender frock that hung beside it, instead boasting sleeves with tiny pearls sewn around the cuffs.
It was perfect.
After much pulling, poking, and prodding, Kalila and Caroline emerged from the room right on time.
Amelia, in a pale-pink gown, trailed after them, breathy with excitement now that she was able to move around without her crutch.
Dameer awaited them in the entryway, as well-dressed as Kalila had ever seen him.
“Dameer!” Amelia crooned. “You look lovely.”
Caroline stifled a snort of laughter.
They piled into the carriage, which took them the short distance to Willow House. As they approached the stunning manor, Kalila saw streams of people milling about the entrance.
“I thought we were expected at half past seven,” Caroline said.
Amelia pressed her nose against the window. “I thought the guest list was supposed to be small!”
Kalila turned to Dameer. “I thought this was a spur-of-the-moment event.”
“I am going to kill myself,” was all Dameer said as the carriage pulled up in front of Willow House. It was teeming with people, enough to make Kalila want to stay where she was.
“Let’s go!” Amelia sang, hopping out and practically running into the crowd.
Kalila stepped out after her, wondering how soon she could find a quiet spot. She was something of a wallflower at big events, which was nothing to be ashamed of. She was simply not the type to—to—
Well, to be asked to dance.
After what seemed like an age, they finally entered Willow House. Kalila spotted her aunt’s henna-red hair and made a beeline to greet her. She was surrounded by admirers with her husband standing guard at her side. As Kalila approached, she heard a familiar laugh through the crush.
“Habibti Kalila!” Aunt Dalia sang, ignoring her audience and gathering Kalila into a hug. It took Kalila a moment to respond, because that laugh—
“Aunt Dalia,” Dameer said, choking on his words, “I didn’t expect—”
Kalila peered over her aunt’s shoulder. She must have been mistaken.
“I’ve no idea how it got this big,” Dalia said. “I only planned this yesterday. Really!”
“You’ve been talking about it for weeks,” her husband reminded her.
“But I only sat down to plan it yesterday,” Dalia insisted. “Really—”
There was that laugh again. Kalila’s eyes darted around the entryway. She had to be mistaken. She couldn’t be that unlucky.
“Is that—” Caroline’s voice came from behind her in a hushed, urgent whisper. “Is that Mr. Booth?”
Kalila whirled around, her gaze landing on the man in question. It was hard to miss him, given the way his sandy hair all but glowed in the light.
Given the way his smile made Kalila feel like she’d downed one too many glasses of champagne, even though she’d only just arrived.
Apparently, she truly was unlucky.
*
She was here.
This was Rafiq’s previous engagement. No matter how hard she tried to hide, she always seemed to accidentally find her way to him.
He couldn’t believe his luck.
Kalila was speaking to her cousin—the real Dameer Rafiq—with what appeared to be a serious air until Dameer’s head snapped up in surprise.
It was in that moment that Oliver resolved to ensure that their cover was not blown.
Not if he had anything to do with it. He would not let this evening end in ruin for Kalila.
Not when it could end in much, much better ways.
Dameer melted into the crowd, and Oliver pretended not to notice as Kalila approached him. Brave girl, he thought, to march right up to him instead of choosing to hide.
With her standing before him, Oliver was able to take in the full glory of her appearance. She was dressed in navy-blue silk with pearls that matched the ones in her dark brown curls. The cut of her dress gave him a glimpse of her shoulders, dotted with asymmetrical beauty marks.