A Study in Silks Read Free Page B

higher on the sheets, a smirk curving her lips. She reached over to herbedside table, picking up an ivory comb and handing it to Evelina. “I think you had better tell me all about it.”
    “I did something foolish, and I’m sorry for it.” Evelina perched on the edge of the bed, pulling the pins out of her hair. “I was in the attic.”
    “Working on—whatever it is you’re doing. I know you tried to explain it.”
    “My toys. I’m indulging my unladylike penchant for gears and springs.”
    “You wicked, wicked girl.” Imogen settled back against her pillows, clearly ready to be entertained.
    “Fit for nothing but Newgate Prison.”
    And she hadn’t even mentioned the magic part of it. Imogen knew a tiny bit about Evelina’s talent—it was impossible to hide such a gift from her very best friend, especially in the confines of the academy—but she had never told her everything. There were only so many secrets she could ask her friend to keep.
    Evelina started to drag the comb through her locks, wincing as it snagged. “I was nearly caught by a couple of the servants. I crawled out the window to hide and ended up in the oak tree. I just about fell out.”
    Imogen laughed—a hearty chuckle that had nothing to do with her delicate looks. “I wish I’d been there to see that!”
    “I beg your pardon? It was most distressing!”
    That only made Imogen laugh the harder, a healthier pink rising to her cheeks.
    “I’m being serious.” Evelina frowned with mock severity.
    Imogen gave her a scathing look. She looked brighter for the conversation, but shadows still smudged the skin under her eyes. She truly wasn’t well.
    “I’m sorry for being so thoughtless,” Evelina said. “If I’d been caught, your father would have blamed you as much as me. I’m in this house at your invitation, and I have no right to risk its reputation, or yours.”
    Imogen shook her head. “Your escapades don’t frighten me.”
    “They should. I’ll land you in trouble yet.”
    “I can look after myself.”
    Evelina felt something tighten inside. At school, she’d beenthe one who’d nursed Imogen when she fell ill. She’d been the guard dog when schoolroom bullies loomed. She still felt fiercely protective. “I should know better.”
    “You can’t be anything but what you are.”
    “And what is that?”
    Her friend squinted in a considering way. “I’m not sure yet.”
    “But you’re going to be brilliant, Imogen Roth. The belle of all London.”
    Now that they had completed their education—an event slightly delayed because of Imogen’s illness and Evelina’s late start—this would be their first Season. Evelina had promised to be her companion through the balls and routs and the inevitable string of suitors—or at least as much as her modest place in the world would allow. A champion until death, Imogen had called her, although Evelina suspected her role would be short lived. Despite her health, Imogen was too beautiful to remain unmarried long.
    As for Evelina—she doubted she would marry. At least not now. Unlike Imogen, she would not be presented to the queen—the seal of approval that granted worthy young women access to Society. Just before Easter, the summons had been sent to those young ladies deemed suitable for the honor, and Evelina had not received one. That limited which parties she would be invited to, and which young men she would have the chance to meet, and how far she could accompany Imogen. Even though her heart yearned to dance at the Duchess of Westlake’s ball, she would never set one slipper on that glorious polished oak floor. Grandmamma Holmes would give her a dowry, but nothing like what Lord Bancroft could bestow on his daughter. Barring a romance worthy of Sir Walter Scott, Evelina’s future lay in something other than a brilliant match.
    Perversely, that bothered her less than missing out on the fun of the Season. It was hard to miss a man she would never meet, but she itched