Page 21 of Carbon

“Miss Fordham? What on earth are you doing in there?”

I blinked in the glare of the chandelier as Dorothy stared down at me.

“Uh...”

“Are you all right? Should I call somebody?”

“No! I’m just a little...tipsy. Please, please don’t tell Mother.” Indecision marred her face as I scrambled out into the hallway. “Look, I’m fine, honestly. It’s all good.”

“You should lie down, miss.”

“Great idea.”

I shot up the stairs as the phone vibrated in my hand, and I didn’t stop until I reached my childhood bedroom, still decorated with the pink ruffles I’d hated so much. Slamming the door behind me, I looked at the screen.

Mr. M

You’ll have to wait and feel.

I flopped back onto the pink counterpane, feet hanging off the end of the bed. How could one line of text turn me into a mushy mess?

The sound of Mars from Holst’sThe Planetssuite made me jump, and for a brief moment, I was tempted to send my mother to voicemail. But if I did that, she’d send out a search party.

“Hi.”

“Augusta, where are you? Dorothy said you weren’t feeling well.”

Thanks, Dorothy. “I just came over a bit faint, but I’m fine now. Could you tell Gregory I’ve gone to bed?”

“Shall I get Angelica to come and sit with you?”

Probably Angie wouldn’t appreciate that, especially if she was going for a second round with the brown-haired guy. “No, I’ll be fine. I think I just need some sleep.”

No, I needed a certain dark, mysterious stranger before I lost my damned mind. Shoes in hand, I snuck down the back stairway and scuttled around the house to the annex door—at least Angie and I had a separate entrance or we’d never get any privacy.

Should I change my dress? I’d gone with another long gown for the party, but the idea of Midnight peeling me out of my clothes tempted me to borrow something more risqué from Angie’s closet. Would she have anything that fitted?

When I said Angie’s closet, I of course meant the third bedroom in our little pad. She’d adopted it for her clothes soon after we moved in, right after she’d outgrown the two wardrobes in her own room. Surely I must be able to find something?

Too short, too long, too tight, too loose. I tried on a Lycra dress and stood in front of the mirror. Nope. I may have been a lady of the night, but that didn’t mean I wanted to look like one. Hang on, what was this? A knee-length black number, plain with a bit of stretch, but that wasn’t what made it stand out. No, I was attracted to the zipper that started at the neck and went all the way to the bottom hem. Easy access.

Please, let it fit.

It was a tad tight across the chest, but I could live with that. Besides, if Midnight delivered, I wouldn’t be wearing it for long, anyway. Perfect. With ten minutes to spare, I pulled the pins out of my hair so it tumbled around my shoulders in loose waves. I’d always considered the light brown colour dull, but in the dark, it didn’t matter. All I wanted was Midnight’s fingers tangled in it. Five minutes left, and I dabbed perfume behind my ears and quickly brushed my teeth.

Okay, I was ready.

7

The path to the stables was shrouded in darkness, and for a moment, I wished I’d brought a torch, but I suspected Midnight wouldn’t appreciate that. He chose darkness for a reason; I just didn’t know what it was. Silence reigned. We hadn’t kept horses since Angie and I turned nineteen, when the last of our childhood ponies died and neither of us had the inclination to look after another. Horse riding had been Mother’s idea, anyway. Just one more skill every eligible young lady should have under her belt whether she liked it or not.

The door to the barn creaked as I pushed it open, and I forced thoughts of rats and spiders from my mind. Midnight was all that mattered. I’d expected inside to be pitch black, but a single candle flickered in the draft from the doorway. A tea light, small and flat, giving just enough light for me to avoid tripping over the wheelbarrow parked in the aisle.

The last stall, he said, and if he’d lit the candle, he must be there already. Heart hammering, I tiptoed forwards, right into his arms.

“You came,” he whispered.

“You thought I wouldn’t?”

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