Oliver smiled.
“I wonder what that must have looked like. I know what children in the country did to entertain themselves, but what did you do here in the city?”
“All sorts of mischief,” Elizabeth smiled, ordering herself to omit the kitchen thefts and the dares they had engaged in. “Then I moved away and life changed.”
“Where did you move?”
“Just a different neighbourhood,” she said vaguely.
“Did you find new friends there?”
How could Elizabeth even begin to explain all that had happened after Father’s death? That the move had been a movedownin every sense of the word – less money, a smaller house, a worse quarter… She didn’t want to talk about such things in a sparkling ballroom with a man she hoped would marry her one day soon.
“Yes, I did. What kind of child were you?”
Disaster successfully averted, she listened to entertaining anecdotes of a young Oliver Harding and his siblings getting into trouble with the stable master at Wexcombe for the rest of their dance.
*
Duke Talbot had asked her to waltz, as was quickly becoming their routine at every event where they both found themselves in attendance. That one dance during which she didn’t have toperform, coupled with her coat room intervals, helped Elizabeth maintain her composure, so she always looked forward to it.
“How are things progressing with your Corporal?”
“It’s been wonderful,” Elizabeth said giddily. “He gave me a gift on our last walk.”
“That is usually a good sign,” Talbot mused, “but first, please do tell me what the gift was.”
“A beautifully ornate silver thimble,” Elizabeth said smugly.
“Not something I would give myself, but I admit, it is a decent gift.”
“Well, I imagineyourgifts are quite different, as are their recipients,” Elizabeth said with a barely suppressed smile, and Talbot raised a haughty eyebrow at her freshness.
“You may be right,” he conceded after a moment.
“What gifts would you give a lady you were courting? Say, to Lady Helena Grey?”
“As a matter of fact, that particular lady has been on the receiving end of a lovely bouquet of hothouse flowers recently.”
Elizabeth made a face before she could stop herself.
“Do you not like flowers, Miss Hawkins?”
“I do. But… buying a hothouse bouquet means spending a lot of money on something that will inevitably be thrown away, so it’s like throwing money away. Not to mention it's impersonal.”
“Whereas I assume your Corporal has made your precious thimble in a forge with his own two hands, thus saving moneyandmaking it a personal gift?”
Elizabeth grinned. “He knows I like needlework, hence the gift. I shall be using it a lot, and every time I see it, it will remind me of him. I even keep it in my reticule. Can you say the same for a bouquet?”
Talbot said nothing, but his face was no longer as open as it had been during their teasing.
“It’s no wheel of cheese, though,” Elizabeth said, in an attempt to make him smile.
When he did, she exhaled in relief. They were both silent for a while, then Elizabeth spoke again.
“If I ask you a question, will you respond honestly?”
She could tell he was surprised. “I shall attempt to.”
