Page 39 of The Best of Friends
Artemis nodded. “Won’t that be fun?”
Had it been almost anyone other than Charlie, Daria would likely have felt a little self-conscious, assuming they would likely be evaluating her as much as what she was wearing. Charlie was not unkind or judgmental.
“What I can’t sort out,” Artemis said, “is who is playing the pianoforte? Charlie doesn’t. Neither my niece nor my nephew does. My brother-in-law certainly doesn’t. And while Persephone can play, her abilities are, by her own admission, merely average.”
Whoever was playing was quite proficient. Those uncooperative hopes of hers were beginning to take wing once more. “Toss plays the pianoforte,” she said hesitantly, “and he is very good.”
Artemis nodded. “I heard him play a number of times at the house party. I suppose it could be him, come to visit Charlie.”
It could be Toss after all. Oh, how she hoped it was. Her mind told her she was pleased because they had come to feel like the best of friends. Her heart, however, loudly declared it was something far more than that. But before she could grow fully excited at the possibility of seeing Toss again, a complication occurred to her. “Toss doesn’t know that you and Rose own the dress shop, does he?”
Artemis shook her head. “Charlie has left it to us to determine who knows what and when. And the only members of his band of misfits who are aware of it are Scott, because he needed some reassurance that it was possible to formulate a business plan without losing one’s claim to Society. And Newton, because Ellie has helped Rose with a few things when I have been away from London.”
“How are you to receive your due praise from Charlie if he’s not able to acknowledge that the dress is of your design?”
A sly smile spread across Artemis’s face. “My husband is a genius. I look forward to seeing how he navigates this.”
They stepped into the music room and discovered Charlie bent over books, which was very common for him, he being decidedly academic. And Toss—her heart leapt—was at the pianoforte, playing something very complicated and impressive. Neither of the gentlemen noticed the ladies’ arrival.
Toss was very interesting to watch while he played. When away from the pianoforte, he moved about almost constantly; his feet tapped, or he swayed a bit. But when playing music, he was still. Not rigid or frozen in place. There was a serenity to him, a peacefulness.
She felt the strongest urge to go sit beside him in the hope of feeling a bit of that peace herself. But she suspected that if she did, her heart would be in her eyes. She wasn’t ready for anyone to know of these feelings yet. Especially him. There was far too much vulnerability in it, and she had learned over a lifetime of disappointments and embarrassment to tread very lightly in areas where she felt fragile.
The music abruptly stopped. Toss jumped to his feet, and Charlie did the same.
“We wouldn’t normally interrupt,” Artemis said, “but Daria has a new gown from Miss Martinette’s, and I told her we simply had to show it off because it’s gorgeous.”
Daria twirled the tiniest bit so the dress could be shown to advantage.
“This is the famous purple dress that earned you a point in our game?” Toss asked.
Daria nodded. “I think purple was the right choice.”
“It’s perfect,” Toss said with every indication of sincerity. “You look lovely in purple.”
Lovely.Never before had so simple a compliment felt so wonderful.
“What do you think, Mr. Charlie Jonquil?” Artemis asked, walking toward her husband with a very regal air.
“I think it is indeed a very gorgeous dress, and though I’m no expert in such things, it appears to be the very height of fashion.”
“You are learning quickly.” Artemis held a hand out to him, which he took and raised to his lips.
Daria met Toss’s eyes once more.
“They are going to be nauseating for a little while,” Toss said in a tone of warning.
“Can you believe that once upon a time, we were all afraid they would murder each other?” Daria asked.
Toss laughed. Daria had heard that poets sometimes described laughs as “musical.” But his was the first one that she thought truly fit that description. If anyone should have a musical laugh, a musician should.
She smoothed the bodice of her dress. “Do youtrulylike the dress?”
“I do. More importantly, doyou?”
Daria turned enough to eye the dress once more. “I really, really do.”
He was smiling when she looked at him once more. “That is probably why I like the dress as much as I do: you look so happy wearing it.”
