Page 23

I do not wish them [women] to have power over men; but over themselves.

—Mary Wollstonecraft

Watching my brother and the love of his life get married was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen. There wasn’t a single dry eye in the church nor at the wedding breakfast. Even my father’s eyes had been glossy. My mother had daintily pressed a handkerchief to her eyes while Ela’s old chaperone Lady Birdie had openly wept.

I was one of the bridal attendants in addition to Ela’s best friend, Lady Rosalin, Lady Simone, and two of Ela’s friends—alovely couple Miss Justine Diaz and Miss Qadira Ali, who Ela affectionately called, J and Q, from her time at the Hinley Seminary for Girls in northern England. The fitting for our dresses had been relatively painless, and the champagne-colored gowns with scarlet chaconia brocade had been as stunning as Ela had described.

I’d never seen my brother look so happy, and Ela was a vision in her gorgeous gold-embroidered red sari, which had been designed and sewn in India. I sat in the church with my parents, knowing that Rafi was only a few rows behind. Soon that would be us….

He’d approached my father formally for my hand in marriage, and Papa had put him through his paces. He’d even brought in Keston to speak to his character. Thankfully, my brother had come around. The interrogation, for lack of a better word, had lasted hours, but Rafi had persevered. My mother had been pleased to hear that it was a love match. That was all she had ever wanted for me. While our wedding wouldn’t be for another year, the thought of it…of being Rafi’s wife was beyond comprehension. It boggled the mind. I’d read in some penny romance novels that reformed rakes made the best husbands. I supposed that might be true if they met the right partner.

“Are you ready, my lady?” Gemma asked as I slipped on a pair of white gloves for the ball that evening, hosted by our family to celebrate my brother’s nuptials as well as the formal announcement of my engagement.

“Is it too much?” I asked, studying my reflection in the mirror. The dress was a golden silk with an overlay of chiffon and seed pearl embroidery stitched at the bodice and hem. It left most of my shoulders bare, with a daring expanse of décolletage. My hair had been swept back from my forehead and weaved into tiny, intricate braids, forming a crown with the lower half left to fall in shiny, multicolored spirals. The gold of the dress picked up the golden and bronze lights in my brown hair.

“Not at all,” she said, and then, “Mr. Nasser will be smitten.”

“He’d better be.” We both laughed. Pleasure coursed through me at the thought of seeing Rafi’s reaction, and my cheeks flushed. I hadn’t worn this dress just for him. It was for me, too. This was a special evening. Not just because our engagement would finally be announced, but also because everything had been finalized with the Osborn School, and it was a milestone that deserved celebrating.

Miss Perkins had gladly accepted my mother’s offer to run the new school. Though Mama had also asked the two elder sisters—we had been at odds on that—whether they would like to stay, they had mercifully declined. Last I heard, from the sudden dearth of students, they’d decided to open a new finishing school in York. Miss Perkins, however, had stayed and would be here tonight at my special invitation.

“This is a new chapter, Zia,” I told myself, somberly meeting my own serious-but-sparkling amber eyes in the looking glass. “Perhaps even an exciting new volume.”

The last had been a challenging experience…but I’d also deepened friendships, found love, saved an orphanage, bought a school, and learned a bit more about who I was. Even though the Lady Knights had gone quiet for obvious reasons in the past few weeks, I would never cease feeding that fire in my heart.

After one last perusal, I thanked Gemma and walked to the balustrade overlooking the enormous ballroom. Feeling delightfully full of heart, I caught sight of my friends near the refreshments room, chatting animatedly with Miss Perkins as well as Sister Mary. I was so happy they had both come! Usually balls in the ton hosted by other aristocrats were exclusive events, but my mother’s parties were known to have people from all walks of society. Sister Mary shifted, and my heart warmed at the sight of a little girl wearing a pretty pink ruffled dress hanging on to her dark robes. Oh, Beth looked darling! Normally children would not be allowed at balls, but my mother must have made yet another exception for me.

My gaze parsed the dancers, searching for the only gentleman I wished to see, but there was no sign of Rafi anywhere. Disappointment curdled in my gut. Was he not here? It wasn’t like him to not send a note if he was ill or otherwise, especially for an event of such importance. Perhaps he was only late. Still, it rankled. Our engagement was going to be announced this evening, after all. I stifled the burst of frustration and calmed my rioting emotions—the Rafi I loved would surely have an excellent reason for it.

Holding my head high, I descended the staircase, feeling hundreds of eyes flock to my person. As a duke’s daughter and a declared diamond of the season, I was used to the attention, and though it used to make me uncomfortable, I saw it now as opportunity. These women all had voices, and they needed to be heard, and these men who held the keys to the kingdom would have to learn to share. I felt my smile bloom as I made my way to my parents.

I curtsied. “Mama, Papa.”

“You look lovely, darling,” my mother said, and I returned the compliment. She practically glowed in a deep red gown that made her skin appear lustrous. Diamonds sparkled at her neck and threaded through her coiffure, the braids cascading down her back. She normally wore them up, but I liked this, too. Clearly, my father did as well, because he could not tear his eyes from her.

“Papa, you look handsome.” My father was an intimidating figure most days, even more so when he was dressed in formal togs. Tall and debonair, he wore raven-black evening wear offset only by a white cravat, his hair slicked back with pomade. His blue eyes glittered with pride as that gaze fell on me.

“You look beautiful, my girl.” His stare warmed. “I’m very proud of you, you know.”

“Even after all my dreadful mistakes?”

He nodded. “Just so. Everyone stumbles from time to time. It’s how we respond to those setbacks that shows the world who we are. You’re an Osborn. We never choose the easiest path because that’s not in our nature. But the reward is both the journey and the destination.”

“You’re quite philosophical tonight, dear,” my mother murmured with a fond smile.

“I suppose I am,” he said. He grinned at me and winked. “I have to keep impressing her somehow, or she’ll throw me over for some young dandy. Now, excuse us, Zenobia love, while I escort my splendid wife for a dance.”

Laughing, I watched in rapt wonder as they began the next waltz. Graceful, elegant, formidable. My mother laughed as my father twirled her, and I felt my heart lift. Their relationship wasn’t an easy one. It took work, effort, and compromise. Strong opinions and stubborn natures weren’t always conducive to smooth sailing, but my parents communicated, and even more, they respected one another.

With a last lingering glance, I made my way over to my friends, who all stunned in their gowns. Lalita wore a gorgeous royal blue sari, shot through with silver threads. A young man in modest clothing stood beside her, and I had to look twice before I recognized him as Brennan…as in my coachman, Brennan. I widened my eyes in shock, but she just smiled, reading my expression. “Life is much too short to be playing by someone else’s rules.”

“What about your aunt and uncle?” I asked.

“Let’s just say a certain duchess with vast influence had a word or two for them,” she said, making me gape anew. “They prefer not to be socially shunned forever.”

Evidently, my thoughtful mother had intervened on Lalita’s behalf as well. “That’s good, no?”

My friend let out a soft laugh. “Let’s just say the fear of being completely cut off from this world set my aunt and uncle on another course from using me or my sisters to improve their circumstances.” She glanced at her companion, whose gaze was as adoring as ever. “Brennan, of course, you know Lady Zenobia.”

“My lady,” Brennan said with a bow and a cheeky grin.

I canted my head. “Brennan, I must say, I’m glad you finally took your shot.”

“Me too, my lady.”

Surprises were everywhere, it seemed. I had no idea that Lalita would ever be so bold as to take her own happiness into her hands…and with a boy so far below her in station. Here was a spark of the old Lalita!

Nori and Blythe looked gorgeous in their gowns, which were on the simpler side but no less beautiful, and I was offered the sparest of greetings before Nori dragged a red-faced but clearly smitten Blythe toward the balcony leading to the arbor. I lifted my brows, and Greer chuckled.

“They’re almost as bad as you and Nasser. Where is that devilish scoundrel anyway? I’m surprised he wouldn’t be attached to your hip with you dressed like that. ”

I snorted but blushed. “Thank you. And late, it seems.” I took in the extraordinary ensemble of charcoal coat, gray and silver waistcoat, and black trousers that she was wearing. It suited her so well. “This outfit is amazing!”

“Thanks. I want you to meet someone.” Greer gestured to the tallest boy I’d ever seen, who was in conversation with Miss Perkins. Pale blond hair flowed past his shoulders, and wide ice-blue eyes met mine. He resembled some kind of Viking angel. I stared unabashedly. “May I present my fiancé, Lars Nielsen,” Greer said. “Lars, this is Lady Zenobia.”

My eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “I have to admit, Mr. Nielsen, a part of me thought she’d made you up and wrote letters to herself.” I dodged a playful cuff from Greer. “But I am glad to see that you are indeed a real boy. Please, call me Zia.”

“Zia,” he said with a mischievous grin. “You are everything she described, except for the warts, the witch hat, and the broom.”

Mouth agape, I shot Greer a look of fake outrage. “What kind of best friend are you? You told him I was a witch?”

“Of course, I didn’t,” she shot back, arching a pale brow. “I told him that you were a soulless witch.”

We dissolved into laughter before I could gasp out a “nice to meet you” to Lars.

Miss Perkins was taking in the exchange with her usual pleasant smile. Her gown was a bold statement of midnight black, setting off her red hair perfectly. But then again, I expected nothing less from a woman who took pride in standing out.

“I’m so glad you came,” I greeted her warmly.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she said. “This is incredible.”

I nodded and let out a breath. “Miss Perkins, I know the last month has been hard, and I want to apologize for any part I played in that.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she said.

“I do,” I said. “I made choices that put us in danger. You lost your job…and your sisters.”

She placed a hand on my shoulder. “I got a better job, and as far as my sisters, we’ve never seen eye to eye. I suspect a break has been long in the making, but I do wish them well wherever they are.” A smile curved her lips. “And I accept your apology, though it’s not necessary. I hope you’ll stop by from time to time. To say hullo to Beth, who asks about you daily. And to teach. I already have requests for your very unique kind of music. Organized piano?”

I frowned in surprise, both at her knowledge and the description, but the latter was apt.

Pleasure filled me at the idea that someone wanted to learn my musical style. “I’d be happy to. Enjoy the ball, Miss Perkins.”

Before I could move, a small tulle-clad body collided with mine. “Zia!” Beth cried, and then blushed, her eyes rounding. “Cor, you look like a princess.”

Her mouth was covered in blue icing and her eyes sparkled with joy. “So do you, Honey B.”

“That’s not my name!” she said with an adorable pout. “It’s Lady Beth…andralissa.”

I laughed. “That’s very pretty.”

“Mind your manners, Beth,” Sister Mary scolded gently before greeting me with a warm smile. “We’ve just been to the refreshments room, and I had to pry her away from the desserts. She’s vibrating like a tuning fork.”

“What’s a party without sweets?” I said, crouching down to envelop the sticky child in my arms. When it came to hugs, I didn’t care about a bit of sugar. “Eat whatever you want, love.”

“I shall,” she said brightly, and then made a show of looking around. “But first, where’s your beau? That scallywag promised he would show me how to dance a Scotch reel.”

So, Rafi was here, then? I bit back my laughter. “I’ll be sure to remind him.”

“Tell him I am waiting forthwith to bestow my favor,” she said, nose high.

“Beth,” Sister Mary chided again, though her mouth twitched with amusement, and then leaned in, her face going solemn. “Lady Zenobia, I wanted to thank you for everything you and your family have done for Bellevue and Little Hands. I shudder to think of what might have happened had that dreadful viscount succeeded in his plans. Bless you, child.”

“You’re welcome, Sister Mary, but I didn’t do it alone.” Uncomfortable with the praise, considering some of my own controversial actions, I gave her a small smile. “I’m simply glad Beth”—I broke off at the sharp poke in my side—“forgive me, Lady Bethandralissa, is safe.”

After that, I couldn’t help my grin as I made my way around the periphery, and wondered again where Rafi was. Our ballroom wasn’t that big. I accepted a glass of champagne from a footman and watched the dancers begin a new set, this time a quadrille. Only a handful of minutes had passed before a shiver of awareness passed over my skin. Glancing up, I searched the room for the only person who could cause that feeling, but there was no sign of him. Perhaps I’d been mistaken.

“Looking for me?” a deep voice said from behind me.

As Rafi’s familiar woodsy scent surrounded me, I took a second to bask in the rich baritone that never failed to make every part of me shiver with want. “You’re late.”

“For good reason, I promise. God, ” he whispered. “Zia, you undo me. You’re a vision.”

“Thank you,” I said, mesmerized by him in much the same way that my powers of speech deserted me.

“I cannot believe I get to love you,” he murmured, and the heartfelt words nearly made me melt.

“Rafi.”

“I need to…” He shifted us so we were in the shadow of a marble pillar, and his lips met mine in the softest of brushes. His tongue danced over my bottom lip with a groan before he pulled away. “That’s better.” I instantly craved more, but this had to do for now. “I have something for you.”

“Give it to me later,” I said fervently. “Let’s go to the arbor this minute.”

He laughed. “Zia, your parents, not to mention your brother, would throttle me if we disappeared in the gardens.” His hands cupped my face. “And besides, I cannot be held responsible for my actions if I get you alone in this dress.”

Before I could open my mouth to say I wasn’t going to complain about a deuced thing, he reached into his pocket and placed a packet in my hands. Momentarily distracted, I felt the thin oblong shape. “What is this?”

“Open it.”

Curious, I untied the string and pulled open the paper. It was a book, a very familiar red-leather-bound book with gold writing that resembled the ones we had returned to Miss Perkins. “You got me a copy of Frankenstein ?” I asked.

“Peer inside,” he said.

With careful reverence, I cracked open the spine. There was something written there. To Lady Zenobia from the author. With affection, M.

Wait. M as in Mary ? I blinked in disbelief and read the inscription again, feeling goose bumps break out over my skin. “You got this signed to me? From Mary Shelley? How? ”

“Lord Byron owed me a favor,” Rafi said. “It’s an important day, and I wanted to get you something special. I’m sorry it took so long, but he was on his way to Bologna, having stopped in England for a short visit from Venice.”

Tears of joy brimmed. “Rafi, I don’t know what to say.”

His finger tipped up my chin, those eyes of his so full of love that I was happy to drown in them. “Yes, you do. Alis volat propriis, ” he whispered. “Now, soar high, Lady Knight of my heart. Show the world how bloody brilliant you are.”

With a tiny sigh, I bit my lip. He was talking about my music. Mary Shelley was iconic; I was just me. “What if I fail at being a composer or make the wrong choices? Again? ”

Those dimples appeared as a true smile erupted on his face, one that not many people ever got to see. “You won’t, but I will always be here to catch you, Firefly.” He grinned. “And if you ever want to try another heist or two, I’ve got your back.”

“My criminal days are over,” I said with a laugh. “But I’ll take the first offer.”

Gray eyes full of sincerity met mine. “Forever and always, my love.”

My heart was going to cleave past my ribs and burrow into his chest where it belonged. Not caring who was watching, I rose to my tiptoes and kissed him, not holding back for a single second. I would do it—I would fly with my own wings.

Without fear. Without reservation.

And I would scorch the heavens.