Page 32 of Toni and Addie Go Viral

Toni

The next day, Toni was in the Dulles airport headed to Rhode Island.

She felt fancier than she did in her day-to-day teacher attire, not that she was dressed that differently.

Trousers, blazer, and shirt were her go-tos for most things these days.

She wore that for teaching, for events, for interviews.

Maybe this was a nicer blazer, one she’d splurged on, and maybe her shoes were some designer brand that made her feel like she was walking on clouds.

It’s just comfort. It’s not as if I’m trying to impress anyone.

Especially Addie.

Toni had been driven to the airport in the usual black town car, and she had that weird feeling she got when she was doing any book events—as if she were living someone else’s life and any moment a stranger would call her out as a fake.

There had been several midweek events lately now that The Whitechapel Widow had hit some sort of nebulous sales plateau that publishers never explicitly shared. In fact, Toni had been sent to another morning television interview in the wee hours midweek. That had been a hellish teaching day.

But the entire department knew about her success, especially since Harold had proudly put his autographed copy of her book on the corner of his desk, where everyone saw it.

So far none of her students had brought it up, but several of her colleagues had mentioned reading it.

All told, it was not the reaction she’d feared. It was… nice.

Going to book events still felt like Toni was slipping on a mask, though. She had to embrace a new persona: A. M. Darbyshire was a New York Times –bestselling debut novelist. More approachable than a professor but not too casual. It was a peculiar line to walk.

“Where to?” the TSA officer asked as Toni approached with her identification and ticket.

“Rhode Island.”

“Vacationing?” The question was mere small talk, but Toni simply nodded. Vacation was a lot easier than saying she was headed to an immersion weekend where she’d dress in period costume. Maybe the hatbox might give it away, but she suspected few people realized that it was a hatbox she carried.

She moved through security, which was easier as she hadn’t brought any electronics other than her phone and e-reader. No laptops were allowed at the manor. Technically, no e-readers were either, but there was only so much socializing Toni could manage before she became prickly.

Just in case Addie is no longer interested, I can read, Toni thought. Maybe she didn’t text or call because she met someone.

That thought made Toni want to cancel the whole weekend.

Sooner or later Addie would meet someone who was more suitable.

Not that they’d deserve her either! Addie was too brave, too insightful, too beautiful to settle for Toni for long, and once the show was out, Toni had no doubt that Addie would be swimming in potential suitors.

Maybe we ought to discuss red flags so she knows what to watch for.

Toni paused midthought. Telling her “avoid anyone like me” feels like stabbing myself in the eye, though.

Toni was fairly sure she was a walking red flag.

She might be financially solvent now, maybe even objectively a “good catch,” but her genetics were a ticking time bomb.

One day I’ll be in memory care like Lil.

Not to mention the fact that Toni had exactly zero ideas for continuing her writing career into the future, or that she had no template of what a healthy relationship ought to look like, or that she had taken a year to still not even tell Addie her surname.

Would I have if she hadn’t been at the audition?

Toni was capable of friendship. She could offer that.

It made sense, since the thought of someone hurting Addie made Toni as surly as the thought of anyone hurting Emily.

That was a side effect of friendship. The added desire to chase away Addie’s potential future suitors was illogical, but surely that was because Toni was hoping to find herself happily tucked away in her most recent happy place—the inviting juncture of Addie’s thighs.

Toni was just protective because they were friends.

And because I’m not ready to let go.

She would be. Eventually. One night didn’t erase a year of celibacy, though. Toni wanted a lot more of Addie before Toni surrendered to her own bleak future.

Despite that, Toni had respected Addie’s silence.

When Addie hadn’t texted or called or emailed after the flowers, Toni reminded herself that filming had to be exhausting.

It wasn’t a rejection. It couldn’t be. But when September turned to October, and there was still only silence, Toni was a little more upset than she wanted to admit.

I won’t need a book to read, Toni promised herself. I’ll be with Addie.

Still, Toni had hidden her e-reader in a case that, at a glance, looked like an antique book.

It felt oddly Victorian, despite the anachronism of it.

The Victorian era was built upon being one thing on the outside but another thing entirely on the inside.

Modern people—aside from history aficionados—thought of the Victorians as prim and proper.

On the outside, that was true, but the paper she was intending on presenting next week was a discussion of all the ways the middle-class and upper-class Victorians were incredibly debauched.

Toni’s thoughts drifted back to the contradiction that was Adelaine Stewart, innocence and bluntness, sex and sweetness. She really is perfect for m—the character, Toni corrected mid-thought. Addie is perfect for portraying my character.

Sex, money, and power: Addie could ooze them. She could draw every eye in a room, and she acted like she didn’t notice. She was remarkably Victorian. Such grace and confidence being a part of her success wasn’t all that different from the modern era.

Unlike me.

What most people knew—and what Toni had written about so far—was the upper crust, and despite the book-sale royalties that Emily had said to expect, one successful book wasn’t going to turn a tattooed, suit coat loving, lesbian history professor into aristocracy.

Her tailored suit would not have been the sort of thing that a woman like her would have been allowed to wear as a Victorian woman.

Women did wear pantalets and bloomers in the Victorian era, but not at the sort of event that Cape Dove Manor was mimicking.

Trousers weren’t even legal for women in the States until the 1920s.

Addie will be dressed like the sort of woman the character is: feminine and innocent on the outside and ripe for debauchery under those elegant skirts.

For all that Toni loved history, she never forgot that the rights that she had as a lesbian in the present were far superior to the ones she’d have had in her beloved Victorian era.

And that was part of what Emily couldn’t quite understand about Toni’s resistance to this immersion weekend: it was one thing to study the era, to fictitiously represent it, but to go to this event meant facing attendees who would be faux-scandalized by a lady in trousers—or perhaps they would be legitimately offended and take the historical excuse to voice that outrage.

Let them be scandalized.

Toni wasn’t about to forsake modernity for anyone’s comfort.

At the end of Sunday’s dinner and dancing, Toni would leave the Victorian dress and manners behind.

She’d go home. Her biggest joy at being at the weekend was that, while she was there, she’d hopefully find temporary love in the arms of a willing woman.

She would not, however, forget that in the real Victorian era, she’d likely be forced to wear a dress and marry a man.

A few hours later, the driver brought Toni from the airport to the end of the drive at Cape Dove. “Miz Darbyshire, I apologize, but they don’t allow anything of ‘this era’ to enter their grounds. I have to stay outside the grounds with the car.”

He pulled the town car up to a group of horse-drawn carriages, all in bright colors and excellent condition.

To the left were a clarence carriage and a brougham.

Both were glass-fronted, enclosed carriages, but the larger clarence would allow four guests to ride while the brougham was a one-horse, two-guest carriage.

Beside the brougham was a landau, a versatile four-person carriage that could be enclosed or open-air.

The landau was folded down, but in need, the two-part hood would fold up to protect any guests from the weather.

Behind those were a pair of hansom cabs, two-person carriages with the driver in the back.

The one that caught Toni’s eye, however, was the phaeton.

Open-air, designed for a single driver or a driver and passenger, and typically an excuse to show off the finest of your horses.

If money were no option, Toni would have a reproduction phaeton and pair of horses worthy of it.

It was also one of the only ones with no horses at the ready.

The town-car driver came around to open her door, but Toni was already out and taking in the small crowd in the gravel lot. The driver closed her door and offered to take her carry-on and hatbox.

“Thank you.” Toni always felt a little foolish handing her things over; it was quite the step to go from broke-ass grad student to having people try to do things for her.

On the day-to-day, she opened her own doors and carried her own things, so these random one-offs still seemed unnecessarily awkward.

On the other hand, in this moment she wanted to study the carriages waiting there in front of her. It wasn’t quite authentic to have all of them parked here waiting, but it was close enough that most guests would be charmed. I’m charmed, she admitted to herself.