Page 7 of Infamous

‘Oh,’ said Rose. She was wearing pink, her gloves immaculate, her curls behaving for the time being. ‘You look .?.?. lovely.’

‘Liar,’ said Eddie. ‘Youlook like a strawberry shortcake.’

‘There are far worse things to be,’ Rose said, stepping forwards to try to pick up where Mrs Miller had left off and attempt to fix Eddie’s hair. ‘Now, don’t get yourself into a temper, but I did promise that we would stop in on the way—’

‘Oh, God. Who is it? Not the Foresters?’

Rose’s hand stilled on Eddie’s parting. ‘The Feldmans.’

‘I shall stay in the carriage and watch out for brigands.’

‘You will do no such thing – she’s been asking after you.’

Eddie was about to protest, but Mr and Mrs Li were stepping out of the doorway, so she instead tried to express her agony through the medium of mime. She continued this performance all the way into the carriage, through the darkening streets of London and into the Feldmans’ front hall.

Eddie had likely been in this house before, but at this point, all the houses of the merchants of London had blurred into one nightmare of bright new wallpaper and recently purchased antique furniture; it wasn’t unlike her own house, aside from the fact that it was filled to the brim with people she felt she had no obligation to speak to under any circumstances.

The newly married Mrs Hannah Feldman came rushing over to meet them, pale but for the vivid pink of her cheeks, wearing a confection of marigold silk.

‘Good evening, Mr Li, Mrs Li, Miss Li .?.?. gosh, and Miss Miller! What a surprise. I thought you had perhaps died.’

‘Sadly not,’ said Eddie, as Rose’s parents went to greet their own friends. She noticed that both Rose and Mrs Feldman were standing with impeccable posture, and attempted to comport herself less like a collapsed umbrella.

‘You always were so witty. Well .?.?. what do you think of me, Rose? A married woman!’

Rose exclaimed obediently and launched into congratulations; Eddie smiled briefly like an ape under threat and then eyed Rose warily out of the corner of her eye, thinking that marriages seemed a catching disease.

‘Well, I must introduce you,’ said Mrs Feldman, and then they were off on a tour of excruciating introductions, starting with her husband. Eddie’s curtseys quickly became half-hearted, and barely quarter-hearted by the end. Smiling at strangers made her face hurt. Wearing gloves made her itch. Having to watch her tongue was even worse. She felt she had been tricked into attending this party; she had only agreed to be part of this evening at all because the thought of the elderly Mr Rednock as Rose’s potential suitor had whipped her into a panic and made her want to hold on to Rose a little tighter, but good God – at what cost?

At one point she drifted away to find a drink and came across Hannah Feldman’s younger brother, Jacob, standing with his hands clasped behind his back by the refreshments as if he was part of some sort of wine garrison.

‘Evening, Jacob,’ she said; he immediately went very red.

‘We have not been introduced,’ he said out of the corner of his mouth, as if afraid to be overheard.

‘Do not be ridiculous,’ said Eddie, requisitioning some alcohol. ‘I know who you are. You fell over that dog last Easter, it was an outstanding piece of physical comedy.’

Jacob was turning puce. ‘Miss Miller, you are not allowed to speak to me until we have been formally introduced.’

‘Aha! So you do know who I am.’

Jacob darted a desperate glance at the nearest group of guests, and then firmly trained his eyes on the ceiling.

‘I cannot hear you.’

Eddie stared at him. He seemed to be perfectly serious. She waved a hand in front of his face, and although he blinked, his gaze did not waver.

‘Oh dear,’ Eddie said, picking up a napkin and wafting it over a candle on the table. ‘I seem to be about to start a small fire.’

She had the satisfaction of seeing him twitch. The edge of the napkin was starting to look a tad sooty; she was just wondering if he would actually need to smell smoke before he acknowledged her when a hand closed over her wrist, neatly moving it aside and squeezing until she was forced to relinquish the napkin.

‘Arson?’ Rose said quietly in her ear. ‘Really?’

‘I thought of it more like sending smoke signals,’ Eddie said, as Rose steered her across the room and out into the empty corridor. Down the hall, she could hear the jovial clatter of servants at work.

‘Was this some sort of cry for help?’

‘No,’ said Eddie, slumping against the wall in relief. In the other room, there was a burst of applause as a pianist and a violinist struck up a tune – it could only meandancing. ‘It was an experiment. He insisted he would not speak to me until we had beenformally introduced. I honestly don’t know how you do this every other night.’