The Glass Books of the Dream Eaters

not, for she was both curious and proud, but wonder if this was how she had looked as well.
    The widow’s cheeks were flushed, her lower lip absently plucked between her teeth, her fingers white with pressure as they squeezed the glass, her breath shot through with sighs, the silk robe sliding as she moved, soft and thin enough to show the stiffened tips of each breast, the barely perceptible rocking of her hips, one long leg stretched out to the carpet, its toes flexing against some hidden force, and on top of all of this, to Miss Temple’s discomforting attraction, was the fact that Elöise still wore her feathered mask—that, to some degree, Miss Temple felt she was not gazing at Elöise at all, but simply a Woman of Mystery, as she had made of herself in the Contessa’s Dutch mirror. She continued to stare as Elöise repeated the cycle of the card, Miss Temple now able to locate, at the same slight inhalation of breath, the moment of Mrs. Marchmoor pulling the Prince’s body into hers, hooking her legs around his hips and pressing him tight…and she wondered that she herself had been able to remove her attention from the card without difficulty—or without difficulty beyond her own embarrassment—where Elöise seemed quite trapped within its charms. What had she said about the book—about people being killed, about her own swooning? With a resolve that, as perhaps too often in her life, cut short her fascination, Miss Temple reached out and snatched the card from her companion’s hands.
    Elöise looked up, quite unaware of what had happened and where she was, mouth open and her eyes unclear.
    “Are you all right?” Miss Temple asked. “You had quite lost yourself within this card.” She held it up for Elöise to see. The widow licked her lips and blinked.
    “My heavens…I do apologize…”
    “You are quite flushed,” observed Miss Temple.
    “I’m sure I am,” muttered Elöise. “I was not prepared—”
    “It is the same experience as the book—quite as
involving,
if not as
deep
—for as there is not as much glass, there is not as much
incident
. You did say the book did not agree with you.”
    “No, it did not.”
    “The card seems to have agreed with you perhaps too well.”
    “Perhaps…and yet, I believe I have discovered something of use—”
    “I blush at what it must be.”
    Elöise frowned, for despite her weakness she was not ready to accept the mockery of a younger woman so easily, but then Miss Temple smiled shyly and patted the woman’s knee.
    “I thought you looked very pretty,” Miss Temple said, and then adopted a wicked grin. “Do you think Doctor Svenson would have found you even prettier?”
    “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” muttered Elöise, blushing again.
    “I’m sure he doesn’t either,” answered Miss Temple. “But what have you discovered?”
    Elöise took a breath. “Is that door locked?”
    “It is.”
    “Then you had best sit down, for we must
reason
.”

    “As you know,” Elöise began, “my position is—or at least was—tutor to the children of Arthur and Charlotte Trapping, Mrs. Trapping being the sister of Henry and Francis Xonck. It is generally held that Colonel Trapping’s rapid advancement was due to the machinations of Mr. Henry Xonck, though I see now that in fact Mr. Francis Xonck manipulated it all to engineer—by way of his new allies—a way to wrest the family business from his brother, and all of it arranged—because the Colonel became privy to all sorts of useful government secrets—with that same brother’s blessing. The unwitting key to this had been Colonel Trapping, who would report faithfully back to Henry—passing on both the information and
mis
-information that Francis could supply. Further, it was Francis who persuaded
me
to visit Tarr Manor with whatever secrets I might supply—again, designed to give him the leverage of blackmail over his siblings. But
this
was made suddenly necessary exactly because the Colonel had been killed—do you see? He was killed despite the fact that, either willingly or in ignorance, he was
serving
the Cabal.”
    Miss Temple nodded vaguely, perched on the arm of the chair, feet dangling, hoping that a larger point would soon emerge.
    Elöise went on. “One wonders why precisely because the Colonel was so very unremarkable.”
    “The Doctor did find the second blue card on the Colonel’s person,” replied Miss Temple, “the one drawn from the experience of