Page 83 of Inventing Vivian

“Yes.” She smiled shyly. “Would you like to see some of my work?”

She showed him painted tiles like the pendant Zhang Wei wore and pottery decorated with elaborate scenes, intricate dragons, and delicate flowers. The subjects were familiar, but Miss Pang’s style was unique. In a back corner of the shop was a small studio with unglazed porcelain, jars of paints, and brushes.

“You have no time to paint,” Zhang Wei said, motioning to the studio. “Not when you manage the shop alone.”

“Perhaps I need assistance.” Miss Pang looked down at her hands again, speaking in a voice that was so soft that Benedict could hardly hear her.

“I would help if you’d like,” Zhang Wei said. He looked down as well, not meeting her eyes, and his ears were bright red.

“I would like that,” Miss Pang said.

Benedict slipped out through the shop door, feeling like he’d intruded long enough. He was so happy for his friend that his steps felt light. But hanging back in his mind was another feeling that it took him a moment to place. Benedict was envious.

He walked slowly back through the Limehouse district toward the carriage, thinking about the status of his relationship with Vivian. The light feeling turned into confusion.

He wasn’t sure where exactly they had left things. Vivian had said she didn’t know how they could continue their friendship as it was, but an hour later, she was in his arms, weeping against his chest and sleeping on his shoulder. Could he blame her perceived affection solely on their escape from danger? Or had her feelings for him actually changed?He climbed into the carriage, kicking his foot up onto the opposite bench as he rode back to Marylebone. If only she trusted him, believed that two opposites would complement one another... But he feared it was all over. Their letters would end, and as for their friendship... he hoped they might maintain some sort of acquaintance, but kissing her had most likely ruined any hope of that.

He rested back his head and rubbed his eyes. As painful as it was, he resigned himself to honoring Vivian’s wishes. Any further connection between them would be at her initiation. And based on her words in the warehouse, he would be foolish to hope it would ever happen. Benedict sighed. He rubbed his chest, wishing he could stop his heart from hurting.

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