White Roses a.b

chapter 6

Ashley allowed herself a huff Sir Peter's presence, combined with the strangling corset, had nearly suffocated her. 'A right pleasure indeed.'

'He's a sore thumb, isn't he?'

She turned and spotted a silver tray floating in the air above the table, overflowing with golden-crusted hand pies, neatly crimped on one edge.

'Ah, hello again, Cheshire,' said Ashley, filled with relief that she might have one encounter this evening that didn't leave her weary and vexed. Though with Cheshire, it could go either way. 'Are you supposed to be here?'

'Not likely.'

The cat appeared with the tray resting on his tummy, his striped tail like a lounging chair beneath him. His head came last – ears, whiskers, nose, and finally his enormous toothy grin.

'You look absurd,' Cheshire drawled, taking a pastry between two sharp claws and popping it into his gigantic mouth. A cloud of savory steam erupted from between his teeth, smelling of sweet squash.

'The dress was my mother's idea,' said Ashley. Placing a hand on her abdomen, she took in the largest breath she was capable of. She was beginning to feel light-headed. 'Are those pumpkin pasties, by chance? Lady Peter was asking after them. They smell delicious.'

'They are. I would offer you one, but I don't want to.'

'That's not polite at all. And unless you have an invitation, you might want to put them down and disappear again before someone sees you.'

Cheshire grunted, unconcerned. 'I just thought you might like to know . . .' He yawned exaggeratedly. '. . . that the Knave is stealing your tarts.'

'What?' Ash spun around, casting her glance around the feasting table, but Jack was nowhere in sight. She frowned.

When she turned back, Cheshire's humongous cheeks were bulging with the entire tray's worth of pasties.

Ash rolled her eyes and waited for him to chew and swallow, which he made quick work of with his enormous teeth.

Cheshire burped, then dug a nail into the space beside his front molar. 'Oh, please,' he said, inspecting the nail and finding a bit of pumpkin filling stuck to it. 'You don't think those tarts would have lasted this far into the evening, do you?'

She spotted the familiar tray, then, near the edge of the feasting table. All that remained of her lemon tarts were a few crumbs, a drift of icing sugar outlining three empty circles, and a smear of sunshine yellow.

It was as bittersweet as dark chocolate, that empty tray. Ashley was always pleased when her desserts were enjoyed, but, in this case, after the dream and the lemon tree . . . she would have liked to try at least a tiny bite for herself.

She sighed, disappointed.

'Did you try them, Cheshire?'

The cat tsked at her. 'I had an entire tart, my dear. Irresistible as it was.'

Ash shook her head. 'You would have made a better pig.'

'How vulgar.' He twisted in the air, rolling over like a log on the ocean, and vanished along with the now-empty dish.

'And what do you have against pigs?' Ash said to the empty space. 'Baby piglets are almost as cute as kittens, if you ask me.'

'I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that.'

She swiveled around again. The cat had reappeared on the other side of the table. Or, his head and one paw had, which he began to lick.

'Though I'm sure Lord Warthog would appreciate the sentiment,' he added.