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tails split over a black skirt with a nice fluffy bustle. A tiny top hat was perched on the side of her jet black hair.
    The other ladies were dressed in pastels, my least favorite. I preferred dark colors. Emily was in pale yellow, not ever attractive, but ultimately better than that bright lemon ensemble she had worn this afternoon. Eliza was in pink and Hazel wore a sky blue. Emily was waving her pale yellow handkerchief wildly at me, demanding that I gave her my full attention.
    “Ladies,” I said bowing.
    “Oh, Arthur! Isn’t it amazing?” Emily exclaimed, indicating the entire ship with a grand gesture, demonstrating that she was as impressive as the dirigible.
    “It is indeed.”
    The woman who had been looking over the side turned around, and I nearly fell over. It was Catherine. Everything was the same! Only instead of red hair, it was a jet black, coiffed in perfect curls. Every single detail of her face was Catherine. The small, gentle eyes. The round nose. The quaint but full lips that formed a perfect tiny “o,” barely larger than the head of a pin, in the exact center when held together. The shape of her jaw. The curve of her cheek. The alabaster skin with just the slightest hint of olive. It was my Catherine returned to me.
    “Allow me to introduce my niece, Arthur,” Lady Bainbridge said, interrupting my thoughts.
    “This is Avalon. Avalon, may I present Lord York.”
    I must’ve taken too long to answer, just staring at Avalon in a daze for a few moments, as the other two ladies were looking crossly at me. I gathered my wits quickly.
    “Forgive me, dear lady,” I said as I took Avalon’s proffered hand and kissed it. “Forgive my reaction, but one does not often see beauty such as yours.”
    Avalon curtsied properly as I kissed her hand, but the expression on her face was not one of a flattered, or even an embarrassed, woman. She looked positively at peace, almost bored, as if she was used to such flattery and compliment, but she wasn’t, judging from the way Lady Bainbridge had spoken about her. I’d bet she just didn’t care about such things.
    “Avalon? Beautiful? Well, my dear,” Lady Bainbridge said to her niece, snapping open her fan with annoyance, “I do believe this is a first. You must thank my maid upon our return. She did work a miracle tonight.”

    “Pleasure to meet you, Lord York,” Avalon said, ignoring her aunt’s quip. She withdrew her black lace-gloved hand out of mine with polite determination, for in my awe, I had held on to it far longer than politeness allowed.
    “Please, call me Arthur,” I said, bowing. I was treating this woman like a queen, for she was a queen to me. My queen.
    “Yes. Please! Call him Arthur. We all do,” Emily Bainbridge said, fanning herself wildly.
    “Dear Emily,” I said, turning my attention to her, for she was obviously slighted, “You are looking especially lovely yourself this evening. I, of course, was prepared for your loveliness, as I had the pleasure of making your acquaintance earlier this day.”
    This seemed to pacify her for the moment, as she closed her fan before playfully batting me on the shoulder with it, and smiled sweetly at me.
    “I will be the envy of tonight’s gala! I’m surrounded by the loveliest ladies in all of London,”
    I announced a little loudly, arms spread wide.
    Hazel Hamilton giggled at this. “Oh, sir. How you flatter.” She blushed.
    “It is not flattery, dear lady. I speak only truth,” I said, tilting my head and nodding with the pretense of respect.
    “Come dear,” Lady Pearson finally spoke, “we must find our husbands. Arthur, as always, it’s been a pleasure.”
    “Dear Eliza, the pleasure is always mine,” I replied bowing deeper to her.
    Lady Pearson and Lady Hamilton turned to leave, which left me alone with Emily Bainbridge and her stunning niece Avalon.
    “Isn’t this simply amazing, Arthur?” Lady Bainbridge asked as she slipped her arm inside mine. She would be no