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Mr. Shakespeare’s sonnets.”
    Something skittered along her skin. “And did
you learn anything from either?”
    “I might compare thee to a summer’s day, but
I shan’t attempt to construct a battery out of shoe polish and
garden twine.”
    Where was Daphne? Could she see him better
from her vantage point? Perhaps Ariadne should attempt to draw him
out. She moved along the stack, and he paced her.
    “Very wise of you,” she said. “I find shoe
polish can be particularly tricky.”
    “Especially if you’re wearing satin
slippers,” he agreed.
    Ariadne giggled and hurriedly swallowed the
sound. Had he drawn back? Was she about to lose him? Why not ask
her questions, then? She forced her voice to come out stern. “Why
are you following me?”
    He was still there, for his voice came out
surprised. “In case you failed to notice, you’re in danger.”
    So he was protecting her. Another thrill ran
through her. “But why? Do I know you?”
    “No, and neither does my opponent, I hope.
Or rather, he might know my name, but not my purpose. All he knows
is that you seek me too, and that could have dire
consequences.”
    “Oh, not you too,” Ariadne said. “I do wish
people would be specific in their threats.”
    “That gun would put a period on your life
quite nicely.”
    There was that, and well stated too.
Glancing up to compliment him, she saw they were almost to the end
of the row. If she darted around the corner to confront him, would
he stay long enough to continue the conversation?
    As if he suspected her intent, he paused. “I
should leave. Go nowhere alone, and stay on your guard.”
    “Wait!” Ariadne cried, reaching out a hand
though she knew she could not touch him. “Please! This is
maddening! You seem concerned about my safety. Surely I would be
safer if I knew who you were.”
    “I wouldn’t count on that,” he murmured.
    Ariadne raised her chin. “I would. You saved
my life yesterday. You aren’t out to harm me. Can’t you accept that
I mean you no harm as well?”
    He was quiet so long she thought he must
have left. Then his voice came again. “Very well, I will meet you,
but not here. Will you be attending the Caldecott ball
tonight?”
    Her pulse was racing again. “I will.”
    “Then be on the balcony overlooking the
garden at ten. I’ll meet you there. Come alone.”
    “Alone?” Ariadne wrinkled her nose. “But you
just told me to go nowhere alone.”
    “Well, you won’t be alone because you’ll be
with me. Just . . . not anyone else.”
    She sighed. “Very well, but I wish you’d
make up your mind.”
    Somewhere nearby a book fell with a
plop.
    “Someone’s coming,” he said. “See you
tonight, at the ball.”
    Why not now, while his attention was
diverted? Ariadne darted to the end of the row and turned, only to
collide with someone. As she sat down, hard, she saw it was her
sister. Daphne regarded her with a frown before extending a hand to
help her up. By the time Ariadne had righted herself and checked,
the other side of the row lay empty.
    “Well, that was a waste of time,” Daphne
declared. “You have no books in your arms, and I was only able to
determine from Mr. Hatchard that Archie, Freddie, Mr. Cunningham,
and Sir Damon shop here with some regularity. He was less certain
about Lord Hawksbury.”
    Ariadne smiled. “It doesn’t matter. I
discovered my centurion will be attending the Caldecott ball
tonight, and so will we.”

Chapter
Six
    Ariadne dressed with more care than usual
for the Caldecott ball. Her mother had insisted that Ariadne and
Daphne wear nothing but white in the evenings until their come out.
Instead of a lavish ball, their debut had been held over a quiet
dinner with family and a few select friends of her parents. It had
all been very proper, but Ariadne had wanted to leap onto the
table, brandish a soup spoon, and demand, “Have you no better plot
for your lives than this?”
    Of course, she hadn’t. She’d sat politely,
spoken when