"No." Gage looked as if he wanted to say more, but he checked himself and glanced around the empty room. "Where is everyone?"
"I don't know. I thought Churchill said six o'clock."
His smile turned wry. "I have no idea why he was so damned impatient to get everyone together tonight. The only reason I came was because I hoped you and I might find a few minutes to talk afterward." A brief pause, and he added, "Alone."
A nervous shiver went down my back. "Okay."
"You look beautiful." Gage said. "But then you always do." He continued before I could respond. "I got a call from Jack on the way over here. He can't make it tonight."
"I hope he's not sick." I tried to sound concerned, when at the moment I couldn't have cared less about Jack.
"No, he's fine. His girlfriend just surprised him with tickets to a Coldplay concert."
"Jack hates Coldplay," I said, having heard him make comments to that effect.
"Yes. But he likes sleeping with his girlfriend."
We both turned as Gretchen and Carrington entered the room. Gretchen was dressed in a lavender boucle skirt, a matching silk blouse, and a Hermes scarf knotted around her neck. To my dismay, Carrington was wearing jeans and a pink sweater.
"Carrington," I asked, "you're not dressed yet? I laid out your blue skirt and your—"
"Can't go," my sister said cheerfully. "Got too much homework. So I'm going with Aunt Gretchen to her book club meeting, and I'll do it there."
Gretchen looked regretful. "I just remembered my book club meeting. I can't miss it. The girls are very strict about attendance. Two unexcused absences, and—" She drew her coral-manicured finger across her neck.
"They sound ruthless," I said.
"Oh; honey, you can't imagine. Once you're out, you're out for good. And then I'd have to find something else to do Tuesday nights, and the only thing going on besides the book club is Bunko Group." She looked at Gage apologetically. "You know how I hate Bunko."
"No I didn't"
"Bunko makes you fat," she informed him. "All that snacking. And at my age—"
"Where's Dad?" Gage interrupted.
Carrington answered innocently. "Uncle Churchill said to tell you his leg is bothering him so he's going to stay in tonight and watch a movie with his friend Vivian when she gets here."
"But since you two are dressed up so nice," Gretchen said, "you go on without us and have a good time."
They disappeared like a vaudeville act, leaving us standing there in bemusement.
It was a conspiracy.
Stunned and mortified, I turned to Gage. "I had nothing to do with this, I swear—"
"I know. I know." He looked exasperated, and then he laughed. "As you can see, my family doesn't give a crap about subtlety."
The sight of one of his rare grins sent a rush of delight through me. "There's no need to take me to dinner," I said. "You must be tired after your trip to New York. And I'm guessing Dawnelle wouldn't be too happy about the idea of us going out."
His amusement faded. "Actually.. .Dawnelle and I broke up yesterday."
I thought I hadn't heard right. I was afraid to assume anything from that spare handful of words. I felt my pulse jumping beneath my skin, in my cheeks and throat and the insides of my arms. No doubt I looked pitifully confused, but Gage said nothing else, only waited for me to respond.
"I'm sorry," I eventually managed. "Is that why you went to New York? To...to break up with her?"
Gage nodded, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, letting his thumb touch the edge of my jaw. My face burned. I stood tensely, knowing if I relaxed even one muscle, I would wilt entirely. "I realized." he said, "if I'd become so obsessed with a woman I couldn't sleep at night, thinking about her.. .it didn't make sense for me to be going out with someone else, did it?"
I couldn't have said a word to save my life. My gaze fell to his shoulder, and I was overcome with the longing to rest my head against it. His hand played in my hair with electrifying lightness.
"So...do we go along with the setup?" I heard him ask after a moment.
I brought myself to look up at him. He was gorgeous. The fire shed hot colors across his skin and lit tiny rushlights in his eyes. The angles of his face were thrown into sharp relief He needed a haircut. The thick black locks were starting to curl over the tips of his ears and the back of his neck. I remembered the feel of it in my fingers, like coarse silk, and I ached with the desire to touch his head, tug it down to mine. What was his question? Oh, yes.. .the setup. "I'd hate to give them the satisfaction/' I said, and he smiled.