Cecilia felt herself falling, falling, even as Ned’s arm held her up. Her last thought before the darkness overwhelmed her was that Aunt Darlington was going to be most annoyed indeed.

14

constantinopla lets tom take the lead—forbidden chocolate—windsor—her majesty’s linen—her majesty’s person—the dangers of toast—an accurate parrot—the parrot hopefully gets it wrong

Constantinopla did not think Tom Eames had any right to command her merely because he was older than her, or because he had seen more of the world than her. After all, one’s claim to superiority depends on the use one has made of one’s time and experience, and while Tom had been attached to his mother’s apron strings for years, visiting boring museums (and robbing them), meeting boring aristocrats (and robbing them), Constantinopla had learned really important things, like how to make fudge over a Bunsen burner in a dormitory after lights-out and how much salt could be put into a teacher’s tea before she noticed. Tom might be three years older, but Constantinopla was obviously his superior in meaningful ways.

However, she was not so far ignorant as to tell him this. When he put his manly foot down and insisted they return to Ottery St. Mary—“You are too young, Oply, to understand the consequences of your actions,” he declared with all his new and unexpected authority as her fiancé—she grudgingly surrendered.

And yet they somehow managed to take a wrong turn among the country lanes, a fact Tom realized only when they were several miles toward London.

And when at Taunton he decided traveling by horse would be better than by train, Constantinopla agreed only moments before a male passerby snatched her purse and ran into the station, boarding a train for London. Tom gallantly chased him, with Constantinopla close behind, and he was on the verge of confronting the man at gunpoint when lo! she discovered she’d not lost her purse after all; it was merely in the other pocket. By then the train had pulled out from the station and there was nothing for it but to take seats in first class (stealing tickets from fellow passengers and tut-tutting judgmentally when those passengers were forced back to third class), to enjoy a dinner of roast pheasant, and to sleep until dawn ushered them into Windsor.

“Thank goodness I have you at my side to guide and protect me,” Constantinopla had said as they ate the chocolate dessert Tom vetoed on the grounds it would make her sick but the waiter brought anyway, and of course one does not waste food. “How lucky I am that you proposed! We shall have such a happy marriage with you at the helm.”

Although Tom could not actually recall proposing, he had smiled at this, and when she had curled up with her head on his lap to sleep, he’d felt nothing but adoration for her (literally: his legs went numb within half an hour and remained that way all night).