It means nothing. It is just a gift to make her smile, what is the harm in that?
Timothy and Alexander followed the butler into the garden, where it seemed the ladies had set up tea. At a large circular table on a patio, tea was served, with little cakes on a silver tray. Beside the table, Lady Eliza jumped up, eager to greet Alexander as quickly as possible. Beside her, Lady Birkston smiled, clearly thrilled to see her daughter so happy.
Timothy stepped forward, greeting Lady Eliza and Lady Birkston, before realizing with disappointment that Lady Rebecca was not there.
“Where is Lady Rebecca?” he asked, trying to keep the nerves out of his voice.
“Behind you, my Lord,” Lady Birkston said distractedly, pointing somewhere over his shoulder, before she turned her attention back to Lady Eliza, and encouraged Alexander to sit with them at the table.
Timothy turned away, seeing that Lady Rebecca was actually quite close after all. She was sat on a bench on the far side of the patio, surrounded by bushes that were blooming with pink viburnum flowers. She looked up, meeting his gaze with her own, showing that she had been reading something in her lap.
It’s the book!
He crossed toward her, as she closed the book up, greeting him with what appeared to be a rather wary smile.
Why is she wary of me?
“My Lady,” he said with a bow. “I see you are reading?”
“I am,” she said, her brows quirking together as he sat beside her on the bench. “Do you know the book?” She offered the poetry book toward him, but he didn’t take it.
“I do.” He nodded, noticing the way she quirked her eyebrows together, as if in confusion. She seemed most desirous to ask him a question, turning to face him on the bench with the book outstretched. “You look quite excited, Lady Rebecca.”
“Did you send this?” she asked, her eyebrows shooting upwards in surprise.
Timothy shifted in the seat, scratching the back of his neck rather nervously.
“Oh, good Lord, I’m a fool, the gifts kept arriving whenever Lord Herberton sent his own.” She shook her head. “Never for a moment did I think they were from you.”
“You forget that I haven’t owned up to them yet. Neither the book nor the ink –” He broke off suddenly, realizing what he had done.
“Ha! I knew it.” She thrust a finger toward him. “How would you know I had been given an inkwell too?”
“It seems I am as bad a liar as you are,” he said with a sigh. “Fortunately, my want of secrecy seems to have left me today.” He held up the parcel toward her.
Lady Rebecca stared at it, as if he had offered her something quite gross.
“Is something wrong?” he asked. She didn’t take the gift, she simply looked between him and the parcel.
“Why are you sending me gifts?” she asked. He looked away, placing the parcel down between them on the bench and turning his gaze on Alexander and the others at the tea table. “Why did you not own them from the start?”
“I don’t suppose it would do much if I told you the honest answer.”
“What is the honest answer?”
“That I do not really know.” He couldn’t look at her as he said the words. “I bought the book because it seemed too perfect when I found it. Then the inkwell was to make you smile. This one, well, I just thought you would like it.” He slid the parcel along the bench, a little more toward her.
“You are a confusing man, do you know that?” she asked with a smile as she picked up the parcel and began to unwrap the tissue paper. The eagerness of the action drew his gaze back toward her, wanting to see her reaction. As the paper fell away, she gasped and lifted the shawl from the wrapping, her touch against the material soft and delicate, as if she were nervous of tearing it.
“Do you like it?” Timothy asked, finding he couldn’t bear the suspense any longer.
“Your Grace,” Lady Rebecca said, her lips spreading into one of the sweetest smiles he had seen on her features. “It is beautiful. I have never had one quite like it before.”
He sighed with relief, sitting back on the bench as she wrapped the shawl around her shoulders.
“Does it suit me?” she asked, clearly with a tease as she sat taller on the bench, looking toward him.
“More so than I thought.” At his words, she giggled, then turned her eyes back down to the poetry book in her hands, fiddling with it with one hand, as the other repeatedly drew across the edge of the scarf.
