Page 62 of Of Socialites and Prizefights

“You’ll find a far better wife than me,” she promised. “You only need to keep your eyes open.”

“Ah, right, yes. Well, I suppose all things are possible, what?” With a slightly embarrassed smile, Jonathan took his leave just as Cherie approached, her blonde hair painted cherry red by the light reflecting off the walls and her sequins. They brushed by each other as he left and Cherie made her way to Deepa’s side.

“He proposed, then?” she demanded, all aflutter with delight. “I've been waiting for him to try again! Did he have a ring this time?”

“No, I don't think he liked his chances quite enough to invest in a ring.”

“Oh.” Her excitement turned to disappointment. “You said no, did you? That's a shame. He's a decent one. We’ve talked a few times, you know, and he’s always so respectful, even when I’m dancing. Such a good face on him, too.”

Deepa glanced at her over her mountain of flowers. “You really like him?”

“Well, yeah,” Cherie said, like it was obvious. Which Deepa supposed it was, now that she thought about it. “He's a catch. But he's only ever had eyes for you, and I can’t compete with that.”

“Cherie…”

“I’m not mad about it,” Cherie said, waving her off. “I'm not even jealous. It is what it is, you know? You’re a good friend, and I'm not about to get petty about a man. Maybe if I could afford one of those charmed dresses you wear, I’d have a chance — No, I’m kidding,” she added quickly, at Deepa’s expression. “I get plenty of attention on my own, thanks. I’m doing just fine.”

“You’re beautiful, and you're funny, and you're kind,” Deepa informed her. “If you want a husband, you’ll get one. I'm certainly not going to poach anyone away from you.”

“I’ll land one eventually,” Cherie said with a careless shrug. “Anyway, I came to give you this.”

She presented a flyer, realised Deepa didn't have a spare hand to take it, and stood back to hold it up so Deepa could see. On the front was a drawing of a fearsome wildcat, with printed text underneath warning the public that a leopard had escaped from some zoo or circus and had been spotted in London. Deepa’s heart gave a panicked lurch into her throat.

“Someone just dropped it off at the door for you,” Cherie explained. “There’s a note on the back, but no name.”

Flipping the flyer over, a handwritten scroll in blocky, workmanlike letters read,Deepa — you alright?

“I know who it’s from,” Deepa confirmed, forcing her panic back down before it choked her. “Just a friend checking up on me.”

“Was the leopard sighting real, then?” Cherie asked, examining the drawing with great interest.

“It was probably just a prank that got out of hand,” Deepa said carefully.

“Oh. Oh, god! Was that you?”

“Keep your voice down,” Deepa hissed.

With her giant bouquet, she herded Cherie into the dressing room, laid the flowers down — they engulfed the whole vanity table, mirror included — and locked the door behind them, then, as an afterthought, braced a chair under the handle.

“Bad enough I was spotted like that; I don't need rumours whirling around about my personal life on top of it. I can't believe there are flyers. There's no way Phillip is going to miss this. Oh, he’ll be gloating. What I wouldn't give to slap that smug look right off his face.”

“What happened?” Cherie squeaked, bouncing with excitement. “Did you attack anyone? Did you eat somebody’s face?”

“No! Absolutely not.”

Cherie looked unconvinced.

“I may have tracked down Phillip and threatened him into changing me back,” Deepa admitted, “but that didn't go terribly well. I wish I had eaten his face,” she muttered, arms crossed. “I don't know what else to do. And this needs to be resolved soon, now that people are going to be on high alert for a great cat roaming the streets. What if someone spots me through the window, or someone in the club hears me pacing around? The longer I stay cursed, the greater the chance of someone finding me out, no matter how careful I am going forward.”

“No more late-night expeditions, certainly.”

“Definitely not,” Deepa agreed grimly.

“The next thing to try is giving a serious go at breaking it yourself,” Cherie declared. “Round up all your friends with even a lick of magic, and see what they can do.”

She said it with far more confidence than Deepa felt the idea deserved.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

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