She stalked off before they could stop her, and Sir Jessamyn, for the first time ever, let out an unmistakable hiss of warning as he glared back at them over her shoulder.
“Brave dragon,” she whispered, patting his back. “Good dragon.”
Elinor knew she didn’t have long before they would follow. Miss Armitage might insist on some subtlety and discretion, but once she understood exactly what had happened, she would be every bit as determined as her brother. Neither of them would ever trust her to manage the situation on her own.
If she wasn’t fast enough, someone else would find them first.
Panic pulsed against Elinor’s throat. She hurried out of the ballroom, desperately trying to think herself into her cousin’s mindset. Penelope would want—no, would need—to be discovered, and as quickly as possible, before Benedict could safely extract himself from the situation…but she had to have tricked him into someplace private, someplace with a door that she could close, a setting that couldn’t be seen as innocuous.
It had to be nearby. But where?
A row of doors, at least half of them closed, met her eyes as she stepped out of the ballroom. A scattering of guests sauntered up and down the long corridor, laughing and talking. Elinor looked at Sir Jessamyn; he looked back at her, wide-eyed.
“Your magic isn’t going to help us right now, is it?” she whispered. “Not without a wish.”
Her shoulders slumped as she contemplated the task ahead. She could work her way up and down the corridor, opening every single door…or she could use her wits.Howwould Penelope have tricked Benedict out of the ballroom?
A headache would have required fresh air—but the garden was too private for Penelope’s purposes. A chill would have required a shawl, but Benedict would never have agreed to escort her to the privacy—and impropriety—of her bedroom. A strained ankle would only have required a chair, and there were plenty of those in the ballroom. If she had dropped or forgotten something in a public room, though, and wanted his escort as she fetched it, it would have been unpardonably rude to refuse her.
The dining room. It stood at the end of the corridor. As she watched, the door eased shut—from the inside.
“Hold on, Sir Jessamyn.” Elinor picked up her skirts and ran.
She was lucky: the small groups of guests that she passed moved out of her way. But as her hand closed over the doorknob, she suddenly realized that she had a new problem, and this one was of her own creation: they were all staring expectantly after her now. Just as Miss Armitage had warned, she had drawn exactly the wrong kind of attention.
Even if she hurried Penelope and Benedict out of the dining room before anyone else could walk in and discover them, every guest who lingered curiously in the corridor would see her emerging with the two of them and realize what had happened.Damnation.
Elinor paused for a long moment with her hand on the doorhandle, fighting to think clearly through her panic. Perhaps if she moved on, pretended she’d been looking for something else, then doubled back…
She heard Benedict’s voice through the door. “I don’t see your fan here, Miss Hathergill. Are you certain this is where you left it?”
Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed Miss Armitage emerging from the ballroom.
Elinor gritted her teeth and eased the door very slightly open. She turned to one side to slip through it, praying that no one could see past her and Sir Jessamyn into the room beyond. She had no idea how she would explain things in five minutes…but she had no time to waste in attempting complex plans. Not anymore.
A crash sounded in the dining room the very moment she turned the doorhandle. Penelope let out a breathy shriek. Quick footsteps sounded across the room.
“Are you hurt?” Benedict said, as Elinor eased through the partially-open door. “Let me take your arm. Is it your ankle?”
“No,” Elinor answered for her cousin, as she closed the door behind her…
…and Penelope threw her arms around Benedict’s neck, lunging upwards to kiss his mouth.
Benedict staggered back. “Miss Hathergill—!”
“Too late!” Penelope beamed up at him. “We’ve been discovered.”
“What?” Benedict’s gaze went to the closed door, and he blanched. “When was that shut? I thought—”
Elinor crossed her arms. “It’s no use, Penelope,” she snapped. “I’m the only one who’s seen. And I am not convinced.”
“What?” Penelope let go of Benedict. “Of course you’re convinced! We planned this together, didn’t we?”
“You didwhat?” Benedict backed away from both of them, staring at Elinor as if he’d never seen her before.
Only the memory of the guests waiting outside the room gave Elinor the strength not to scream.
“We,” she said to Penelope, “didnotplan this together.”
