5: Lavish and Irreverent

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Mare was eager to break from the small company. She wished for some manner with which to demure from taking brandy and coffee in the parlor after the meal, but her mother would lock her in her room for the rest of the summer if she were to act so indecorously.

She sank onto one of the imported French settees, this one violet with golden embroidery-peacocks and roses and twisting plum branches-and Lilith sat beside her, guided by Theodore's hand.

"Ms. Atwood," he said with a polite nod, "I trust you remember Ms. Lilith Gilbert?"

"Ms. Atwood and I are quite familiar," said Lilith softly, violet eyes gleaming. There was something blank in Lilith, and cold, like a doll come to life but not imbued with humanity. Her snowy beauty lent her a bewitching air, however, and it was more than enough to attract the eyes of the company, willing or not. "We spent our last year at school teaching literature for the primary schoolchildren."

Theodore straightened. "Ms. Atwood has a fondness for books, then? I'd never have guessed."

Mare looked to Theodore in surprise. She found him smiling. "I don't care for them any more than anyone else, I'm sure."

"Oh, don't be modest, Mare," said Lilith, watching her with those unnerving eyes. "You were lavish about Austen; irreverent about the Brontës."

Mare almost flinched. She heard her mother in her mind: No boy wants a girl who's given her heart to books.

"Lavish," echoed Theodore before Mare could defend herself, tilting his head, "irreverent. I've never heard such words applied to Ms. Atwood. According to rumor, she thinks herself a cut above the company; displays of such passion would dispel the notion."

Mare bit her lip to keep from lashing back, but quickly realized that Theodore was teasing her, as he had earlier in the rain. She regarded him with as restrained a smile as she could manage, understanding his challenge. Lilith, she noted, watched them with renewed calculation.

"Clearly, my energy is far better spent protecting such rumors rather than dispelling them with truth," Mare answered. "All the better to conceal it."

Now Theodore smiled in full, though it was tinged with suspicion, or perhaps fascination. "Society would have us believe passion does not recommend a lady."

"Does it a man?"

"Contingent upon where it lies." Theodore had taken a step closer somewhere between their words, and he stood above Mare more than Lilith now, hands folded behind his back, as though regarding a particularly strange blossom encountered on a barren path. "In finance or trade it is acceptable; commendable, even. In the arts and abstracts it is as condemnable as a woman's."

"As society would have us believe," Mare answered, not missing a beat. She narrowed her eyes. "Which begs the question: what do you believe, Theodore Bridge?"

"I'm afraid I've lost track of the conversation," said Lilith, voice cold and soft.

Mare sobered at the same moment Theodore seemed to. She realized she'd gravitated to the edge of the settee and sat with her neck craned, angled toward Theodore like a flower to sun. He too had drawn close, head cocked, shoulders bowed forward. Both retreated swiftly, clearing their throats in unison.

Lilith regarded them mildly, eyes cool and hooded as a cat's. "Discussing rumor has already trespassed upon the grounds of ill form, though I'd expect nothing less of you, Teddy. Mare, however, seems usually quite aware of personal governance in social situations. Are you feeling quite yourself, my dear?"

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