“Yes, definitely more comfortable than on my last visit,” I said. “I was scared a rat might come out and nibble me all the time then.”
Gideon tried the handle of the door and rattled it once. It was obviously locked.
“Just once this door was left open,” he said with a grin. “That was a really good evening. From here there’s a secret passage down to underneath the Royal Courts of Justice. It goes on even deeper, into catacombs with bones and skulls … and not far from here, there’s a wine cellar. At least, there is in 1953.”
“We need a key.” I looked surreptitiously at the wall again. Somewhere behind a loose brick, there was a key. I sighed. What a shame that it was no use to me now. But it was also kind of a good feeling to know something when, for once, Gideon had no idea of it. “Did you drink any of the wine?”
“What do you think?” Gideon took one of the chairs from the stack by the wall and put it down at the table. “Here you are, all yours. Have fun with the homework.”
“Oh. Thanks.” I sat down, took my things out of my bag, and pretended to be immersed in a book. Meanwhile Gideon stretched out on the sofa, took an iPod out of his jeans pocket, and put the earphones in his ears. After a couple of minutes, I risked glancing at him and saw that his eyes were closed. Had he gone to sleep? No wonder, really, when you stopped to think that he’d been time traveling again last night.
I lost myself for a while in looking at his long, straight nose, pale skin, soft lips, and those thick, curving eyelashes. Relaxed like that, he seemed much younger than usual, and suddenly I could imagine what he must have looked like as a little boy. Very cute, anyway. His chest was rising and falling regularly, and I wondered if I might venture to—no, too dangerous. And I mustn’t look at that wall anymore, not if I wanted to keep the secret I shared with Lucas.
Since there was nothing else to do, and I could hardly spend four whole hours watching Gideon asleep (although the idea did have its good points), I finally devoted myself to my homework, first the mineral resources of the Caucasus, then irregular French verbs. The essay on Shakespeare’s life and work only needed some kind of conclusion. I made a determined effort and summed it up in a single sentence: Shakespeare spent the last five years of his life in Stratford-upon-Avon, where he died in 1616. There, done it. Now all I had to do was learn a sonnet by heart. As they were all the same length, I picked one at random. “Mine eye and heart are at a mortal war, how to divide the conquest of thy sight,” I murmured.
“Do you mean me?” asked Gideon, sitting up and taking the earphones out.
Unfortunately I couldn’t stop myself going red. “It’s Shakespeare,” I said.
Gideon smiled. “Mine eye my heart thy picture’s sight would bar, my heart mine eye the freedom of that right. Or something like that.”
“No, exactly like that,” I said, slamming the book shut.
“You don’t know it by heart yet,” said Gideon.
“I’d have forgotten it again by tomorrow anyway. I’d better learn it first thing in the morning just before school. Then I have a fair chance of remembering it in Mr. Whitman’s English class.”
“Good, now we can practice the minuet.” Gideon stood up. “There’s plenty of room for us here, anyway.”
“Oh, no! Please let’s not!”
But Gideon was already bowing to me. “May I have the pleasure of this dance, Miss Shepherd?”
“There’s nothing I’d like better, sir,” I assured him, fanning myself with the book of Shakespeare sonnets, “but I am sorry to say that I’ve sprained my ankle. Perhaps you’d like to ask my cousin there. The lady in green.” I pointed to the sofa. “She’d be happy to show you how well she can dance.”
“But I want to dance with you—I found out how your cousin dances long ago.”
“I meant my cousin Sofa, not my cousin Charlotte,” I said. “I can assure you, you’ll have more fun with Sofa than with Charlotte. Sofa may not be quite as pretty, but she’s softer, she has much more charm, and she has a kinder disposition.”
Gideon laughed. “As I said, I’m exclusively interested in dancing with you. Do let me have the honor!”
“Surely a gentleman like you will show consideration for my sprained ankle?”
“No, sorry.” Gideon took the iPod out of his jeans pocket. “Wait a moment, the music’s still too far away from you.” He put the earphones in my ears and pulled me to my feet.
“Oh, good, Linkin Park,” I said, while my pulse shot right up because Gideon was suddenly so close to me.
“What? Sorry, just a moment, and I’ll have the right track.” His fingers moved over the display. “Right, Mozart—that will do.” He handed me the iPod. “No, put it in your skirt pocket. You need both hands free.”
“But you can’t hear the music at all,” I said as violins scraped away in my ears.
“I can hear enough, you don’t have to shout like that. Okay, let’s imagine this is for a set of eight dancers. There’s another gentleman beside me on the left, two more on my right. Opposite us the same lineup, but with ladies. Curtsey, please.”
I made him a curtsey and hesitantly put my hand in his. “But I’m stopping the moment you say stupid girl to me.”
“Which I would never do,” said Gideon, leading me straight past the sofa. “And we make polite conversation while dancing, that’s important. May I ask how you developed your dislike of dancing? Most young ladies love it.”