Chapter 2.

When I wake, Kartik is sitting above me, a look of concern on his face. I glance around long enough to recognize that we are back at home, and I am laying in the stables.

"Do you ever get tired of shocking me like this?"

I sit up and wince at the pain on my right cheek. "No."

Kartik attempts a smile, but he still looks upset. "What happened to you back there?"

"I was asserting my womanhood."

"God help us all." He gives me a look of mock fear. "We know what you're like when you get fired up."

"Well…I did. Get fired up, I mean."

"Put that Middleton in his place, have you?" There is no mistaking the feisty gleam in his dark eyes.

"Sort of."

"Did he hit you?" The sparkle is gone now.

"I—…"

"Gemma, darling! Supper!" Grandmama's voice carries through the yard and into the stable.

I want desperately to tell Kartik the whole account, but we are expecting company tonight. There is no room for what I want. I give him an apologetic glance as I hurry back to the house.

Tom is waiting by the door, looking flustered.

"Gemma, we have company."

"Brilliant deduction, Thomas."

"Don't get this way with me." He leans in. "It's the Wheeler family. Friends of the Middletons. Please don't mess this up."

"Tom…" my voice falters a bit. I wish people would stop assuming I'm just going to ruin things. "Have a little faith in me."

For some reason this quiets him and he simply nods as we walk to the parlor together.

"Mrs. Wheeler, may I present my sister, Miss Gemma Doyle." Tom is all charm as everyone nods politely in my direction.

There are a few brief introductions, and I see that the Wheeler boy is about my age. I have seen him at some of the social gatherings, though personally I have not gotten to know him.

Because 'time for supper' actually means 'supper will be ready in another hour', everyone wanders off to talk. My father and Grandmama remain in the parlor with Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler, and their son makes his way in my direction.

"Miss Doyle?" he looks at me quizzically, with eyes that are such a penetrating blue that I find them fascinating.

"Call me Gemma, Mr. Wheeler."

"If I get to call you Gemma, then you can call me Alex."

"I think I've seen you a few times."

" I know you have. You're involved with Simon, yes?"

His tone of voice has changed and it makes me a bit nervous.

"Somewhat…I suppose." I will myself not to remember our most recent encounter. "Why do you ask?"

"He's…ah, mentioned you." I really don't like the way his voice is now. It has a sort of guilt to it. There is something he isn't telling me.

"Mentioned me how?"

"Oh, I really shouldn't…I mean we shouldn't…oh…this lovely weather, do you think it will last?"

Men are so strange.

"I think you should answer my question, Alex."

"Gemma, it's not my business…"

To this, I say nothing. I find that if one stays silent long enough, it helps keep things moving.

"Okay, okay. But don't blame me if it upsets you."

Upsets me? I feel a strange sort of knot form in my stomach.

"Why would it upset me?"

Alex sighs lightly and takes a seat on one of the stairs. I join him.

"Gemma, it's really not right, some of the things he says."

"What does he say?"

"Oh…nothing really…that is, I mean…well…look…you must know by now that Simon is a fairly…physical person?"

I can't help remembering the time we all experimented with the absinthe.

"Erm, yes."

"Well, it's just...he likes to talk about you. Physically. Leave it at that?" Alex looks dreadfully uncomfortable.

"Has he said anything?"

"And I quote. 'She wouldn't even want to know what I'd do if I got the chance.'"

"What?" I can only imagine what my bewilderment must look like. My eyes are about as wide as they can go, and my mouth is hanging open in shock. I quickly close it.

Alex doesn't say anything.

I can't really blame him, because what is there to say?

"Am I to understand that he is using me?" I ask finally.

"In a way."

There is a longer silence, and we are both looking away. I play with my glove, and Alex rests his head on the banister.

"What should I do?" I whisper.

"You need to figure out something."

"Obviously." I glance at him. "But what kind of 'something'?"

"Try talking to him?"

At this, we both look at each other and laugh. It breaks the tension slightly.

"I've already tried that," I say.

"How did that work out?"

I give a half-snort, half-sigh and gesture towards my new bruise.

"He didn't!" Alex looks even more alarmed than I did. "What on earth possessed him to do such a thing? I know he's got a temper, but to strike a lady!"

"Try telling him that. He's your friend, isn't he?"

"I don't even know anymore. He's always so aggressive these days, and he's always had a short temper, but it's getting ridiculous. It's not the same as back when we used to just be able to talk. See a picture show. Have a good time."

I feel sorry for him. I know what it is to have a ridiculously aggressive friend who is also low on patience. The only difference is perhaps that Felicity can be all these things and still look good doing it. Simon, I'm not so sure.

"I understand."

We sit quietly for a moment longer before the dinner bell rings in the distance.

"Shall we get to the table, then?" Alex stands up and offers me a hand. I accept, and we make our way downstairs.

As we near the dining hall, I turn out of habit and see Kartik leaning against one of the other doorways. I try to catch his attention, but he seems focused on the ceiling for some reason. I watch him for a moment. He lowers his head and we lock eyes. He blinks rapidly a few times, and he is gone.

I think I know where I'm taking this now.