Page 87 of Gift Horse

Pippa takes my arm. “I’ve arranged for a few morePersiandishes to be served tonight. We want ourillustrious industrialistto get the message loud and clear: while the Establishment can’t come right out and say we’re willing to do business, quietly and through back channels, we’re all for allowing the right contracts to change hands.” She lets the implication hang in the air; yet again, she is telling me without telling me: if this gets out, if the press gets wind of the deal (deals? plural?), the government may fall. As before, I’m navigating murky waters.

“I will do my best to be as congenial as possible. Are there more lines for me to deliver?”

Before Pippa has a chance to answer, Lolly enters the room, and with that all shadows are made light. The music does backflips and the worry that has sat on my chest like Henri Fusseli’s nightmare imp melts away. By luck—or fate, or design, who can tell—she’s come as a steampunk vampire. The front panel of her skirt is missing, stockings held aloft with lacy garters, and her cleavage plumped to overflowing.

Mr. Wiggins has on a small, black hat with Doggles perched on the rim.

I step back from Pippa before I remember my manners. “Two minutes, no more.”

Pippa smiles and snags a flute of champagne from a passing tray as she waves me away.

Lolly’s making her way to me every bit as fast as I’m racing to her. We meet in the middle of the dance floor, which is not where I want to have this discussion, but the world has its own way of turning and I’ll take what I’m given if it means I get her back. For once her dog does not growl at me. I take it as an omen.

“Here’s your phone.” She doesn’t raise her eyes to mine.

“You called?”

She shakes her head. “That’d be so dumb.”

“I want you to.” I truly do. I want this cloud lifted.

“I’m just all over the place. I need—time.”

Time for what, I want to ask. To leave me? To further convince yourself that I’m not someone you can trust? I scroll through my contacts and find Juliette’s number and hit send before Lolly has the chance to stop me. “I will say only that I am calling. You will do the rest.”

Lolly pushes my hand away. “Oh, god. I feel so stupid.”

“Juliette! It’s Mariano. I have a friend who needs to talk to you.” I press the phone back into Lolly’s hand.

She glares at me, her face contorted once again.

I step away, but Lolly grips my arm. In the distance, I hear Juliette asking who’s there.

“Juliette? Hello, this is Gwen’s daughter, Charlotte Benoit. We haven’t met, not really…” She pauses while Juliette gushes on the other end of the line. “Mariano and I have had a small misunderstanding. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

Juliette’s talking, but I can’t hear the words. Lolly shakes her head, tears swimming in her eyes. Finally, she thanks Juliette and hangs up, heaving a sigh, the kind that speaks of big emotions. My phone is in my hand and she’s whirling away from me before I can ask if she has her proof.

“Lolly!” The words rip from me, bringing the room to a halt. “I love you, Lolly of the Laughter.”

She stops but does not turn to face me. I watch her hand pass over her face. Good tears? Happy tears? Or frustration? Anger? Did I go too far?

“Mi vida—I cannot live this life without you.” I mean it. Life without Lolly would be no life at all. She brought the passion and I cannot, will not, go back. Desire must be twinned with duty, or my heart will die. Mariano Arias will be as he was, a husk of a man. “I wish that you return to me. Now. And forever.”

Her turn is so slow that I am dizzy with anticipation. When she smiles, my chest bursts wide and a million songbirds take flight.

I open my arms to her.

She lets go of Mr. Wiggins’ leash and is beside me in three swift steps, her hand in mine, her mouth at my ear. “God, I love you. You stubborn, mulish, wonderful man.”

“Tango Por una Cabeza,por favor.” I take her in my arms, this time with no instruction, for there is no need. Our bodies speak what our mouths do not. We dance closer than we have ever danced before. I do not twirl her out away from me, I do not lower her into a dip. I cannot bear even that distance. Instead, I guide her to sit upon my hip. I set her down and slide my thigh between hers. I press my cheek to hers and we turn, first one way, then another, but always together. Only as the song rises to its conclusion do I bring my lips to the whorl of her ear. “You know the meaning of the lyrics?”

“There’s no singer.”

“In the original, it is the gambler who compares his love of women to his love of fast horses…”

“You’re calling me a horse?”

“By all that’s bright in the firmament, Lolly, you are everything to me.”

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