Is that a nautilus?” he asked.
“Close, but no. It’s an ammonite.”
“An ammonite? What’s an ammonite? Sounds like an Old Testament people overdue for smiting.”
“Ammonites are not a biblical people,” she replied in a tone of strained forbearance. “But they have been smited.”
“Smote
Is it truly so unfathomable, that an imperfect girl might be perfectly loved?
Tessa DareThink of it like running down a slope. If you attempt to slow down and choose your steps, you’re bound to trip up and stumble.
Tessa DareYou know,” he said, “this design begins to appeal to me after all. Sea slugs aren’t the least bit arousing, but logarithms . . . I’ve always thought that word sounded splendidly naughty.” He let it roll off his tongue with ribald inflection. “Logarithm.” He gave an exaggerated shiver. “Ooh. Yes and thank you and may I have some more.”
“Lots of mathematical terms sound that way. I think it’s because they were all coined by men. ‘Hypotenuse’ is downright lewd.”
“ ‘Quadrilateral’ brings rather carnal images to mind.”
She was silent for a long time. Then one of her dark eyebrows arched. “Not so many as ‘rhombus.’ ”
Good Lord. That word was wicked. Her pronunciation of it did rather wicked things to him. He had to admire the way she didn’t shrink from a challenge, but came back with a new and surprising retort. One day, she’d make some fortunate man a very creative lover.
Anyhow,” she went on, “so long as my mother forced me to embroider, I insisted on choosing a pattern that interested me. I’ve never understood why girls are always made to stitch insipid flowers and ribbons.”
“Well, just to hazard a guess . . .” Colin straightened his edge. “Perhaps that’s because sleeping on a bed of flowers and ribbons sounds delightful and romantic. Whereas sharing one’s bed with a primeval sea snail sounds disgusting.”
Her jaw firmed. “You’re welcome to sleep on the floor.”
“Did I say disgusting? I meant enchanting. I’ve always wanted to go to bed with a primeval sea snail.
Violet tried the door latch. Locked, of course. Wordlessly, she pulled a hairpin from her wind-mussed chignon and handed it to him. He stared at it. “What makes you think I know how to pick locks?” he whispered. “Just because I’m a spy?” “No. Because you were forever stealing pocket money from your father’s top desk drawer.” Bloody hell. She truly had been paying attention.
Tessa DareEventually, a governess realized I needed spectacles. When I first put them on my face, I can’t even tell you . . . it was like a miracle.”
“Finally seeing properly?”
“Knowing I wasn’t hopeless.” A knot formed in her throat. “I’d believed there was something incurably wrong with me, you see. But suddenly, I could see the world clear. And not only the parts in the distance, but the bits within my own reach. I could focus on a page. I could explore the things around me, discover whole worlds beneath my fingertips. I could be good at something, for once.
I don’t know. What do people see when they gaze at the sky? Inspiration? Beauty?” She heard him sigh. “Truth be told, this view always intimidated me. The sky’s so vast. I can’t help but feel it has expectations of me. Ones I’m already failing.” He was silent for a long moment. “It reminds me of your eyes.
Tessa DarePerhaps, she thought, people were more like ammonites than one would suppose. Perhaps they too built shells on a consistent, unchanging factor—some quality or circumstance established in their youth. Each chamber in the shell just an enlargement of the previous. Growing year after year, until they spiraled around and locked themselves in place.
Tessa DareAnd even if she could discern what future she wanted . . . How would she bear it if that future didn’t want her?
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