Written on Your Skin Read Online Free

though her mind had detached from her flesh. Mina sat down on the chintz cushion and gave her a smile. “Well, I was speaking to Mr. Monroe—”
    “No, start at the beginning. Were you the most beautiful girl at the ball?”
    She rolled her eyes. “Must that always be the first question you ask?”
    “I like to begin with good news, darling.”
    “Well…” Mina considered the question, for in Mama’s view, it was never only a matter of looks. Her gown was costlier than any other she’d seen. The pearls at her throat would have paid for five copies of Miss Morgan’s. And the gentlemen had flocked to her; she’d been hard-pressed to sit out a dance. “Yes, I believe so.”
    Mama nodded. “Miss Kinnersley is not in attendance, then?”
    Mina pulled a shocked face. The Kinnersleys had recently transferred from Rangoon, where the daughter had been the reigning beauty. “Why do you ask? Surely you don’t think her prettier than me?” She leaned forward, squinting into her mother’s face with mock concern. The lines at the corners of Mama’s eyes seemed to have deepened recently. All her creams and potions would be for naught, so long as Collins drove her to cry so regularly. “So young to require spectacles!”
    Mama laughed. “Don’t be silly.”
    “I can’t help it. I’m a very silly girl.”
    “Is she here tonight?”
    “Yes, she’s here.”
    “And what is she wearing? With whom has she danced?”
    Mina shrugged. “Why does it matter? Are we in competition?”
    “It is always a competition.” Mama’s hand on Mina’s chin drew her face around. “A woman has only three assets to trade on. Her beauty, her breeding, and, if she is lucky—”
    “—her fortune, yes, I know.” Mina pulled free. Her eyes fell on the abandoned clock. The glass glittered in the dim lamplight, pretty as diamonds. No wonder people were often fooled by paste. “You’ve only told me a thousand times.”
    “Well.” Mama shrugged. “In the third department, you’re outmatched, and you mustn’t forget it. That’s all I mean.”
    If she had a penny for every time Mama had reminded her, she’d be wealthy by now and free to do as she liked, rather than primping herself like a prize at auction. “A pity Mr. Bonham doesn’t see it that way.”
    Mama sighed. “I know you’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, but he’s a very likely gentleman, Mina. And he takes a very strong interest in you.”
    Not in me, she wanted to say. In her face and figure? Of course. But she knew better than to say it. Mama would not have acknowledged a difference. Mama thought American girls terribly forward. A young lady is not meant to trade on her opinions. She could not understand the license New York society permitted its daughters. In England, a girl does not consort with gentlemen unchaperoned. It seemed that mothers made all the decisions in England, and what decisions they made were designed to crush the fun from life. If you had grown up in England, you would be drinking lemonade, not champagne. England sounded terribly tedious, and the girls there must be as boring as Sunday sermons.
    The brief silence had allowed Mama to recall her troubles. She pressed her lips together and fumbled in her lap for her handkerchief.
    “Did he throw the clock at you?” Mina asked softly.
    Mama pressed the hankie to her eyes, then drew a hitching breath. “Of course not.”
    “But he threw it, didn’t he?”
    No response. Well, what did the specifics matter? If he’d thrown things away from her tonight, there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t adjust his aim tomorrow.
    Mama’s shoulders trembled. The handkerchief muffled her sob.
    Take her in your arms. But Mina’s muscles wouldn’t permit it. They balked and contracted like hardening clay. “I fear for you,” she said.
    “Oh—” Mama cast down the handkerchief and came into her arms. She held still, feeling tears slip down her chest, under her bodice. Mama’s body shook with a grief