She had her arms around Isolde, but, over the older woman’s shoulder, Teresa’s eyes were looking at him. They glistened with tears, softened by her sadness, but they did not harden as they met his gaze. Rather, inexplicably, they seemed to soften further.
“Iwould,” Prudence jumped back in, “but Izzie says Mama will take leave of her senses if I am away too long, considering society has instructed its vultures to watch over us. And though I have no trouble distressing my mother, I cannot do it to my sisters.”
Cyrus let his gaze flit to Beatrice. “What of you, Miss Johnson? Can you not be compelled to stay with your friend?”
“Alas, I am under similar maternal scrutiny,” Beatrice replied, her tone marginally less cold than usual. “There was an incident; I am to return home and receive my punishment.”
“An incident?” Cyrus lifted an eyebrow.
Beatrice smiled coolly. “An Earl tried to touch a friend of mine inappropriately. I lured him out to a place that I know and dropped several buckets of wet manure onto his head, and paid some children to pelt him with rotten vegetables.” She sighed,her eyes flashing. “It would have been perfect, but his driver recognized me, and my parents were informed. Still, I shall always have the satisfaction of hearing his girlish screams, and I doubt he will ever touch a young lady again without thinking of that wet manure on his head.”
Cyrus did not know whether to laugh or applaud, so he did neither, staring at her blankly. Hehadheard Anthony mention something about a similar incident—surely, it had to be the same one. The Earl in question had been handsomely ridiculed, adding insult to injury.
He was about to tell Beatrice that, hoping it might make her opinion of him better, but Prudence leaped in before he could.
“Come on, we have a long journey ahead of us and I am already bored,” the young woman declared, grabbing Isolde and Beatrice by the hands, tugging them outside.
Teresa hid a laugh behind her hand as she went to the front doors with them. “Swear you will visit again soon!” she called out.
“So soon you will think we never left,” Beatrice replied.
“I shall bring Joseph next time, so he can pretend to be a knight,” Isolde promised.
“And I will sneak away the moment Mama starts lecturing me,” Prudence said, pushing the other two into the waiting carriages.One for Beatrice and Prudence, one for Isolde, returning to their respective country estates.
Still in the entrance hall, Cyrus stayed back for a moment, admiring the silhouette of Teresa in the doorway. He did not know if he would be welcome to stand at her side, or if she would prefer to stand there alone, or if he should not care about that and stand with her anyway. Out of propriety.
She will be sad,he told himself, urging his feet forward.
He stood just behind her, taking a breath before he rested his hand against the middle of her back to let her know he was there. That hehadcome down, and that hewasstanding with her.
She jumped a little, but did not try to move his hand or step away from his touch. Rather, she seemed to lean back into it, her gaze fixed on the carriages as they began to move off, circling the perimeter of gravel that bordered the bailey.
“It will be quieter without them,” he said, as the carriages made their way down the opposite side, coming closer to the gates.
Teresa nodded. “I hope nottooquiet.”
“Is silence not preferred for reading?” He cursed himself inwardly, certain he must sound like an idiot who had never spoken to a person—much less a woman—before.
She raised her hand to offer a final wave to her sisters and friend. “Yes, I suppose it is. But it is not good for a person to always be in silence and solitude. They have taught me that.”
Is she talking about me?He frowned down at her, though she did not notice.
“There is tea and cake,” he said stiffly.
She turned to him at last, her eyes narrowed in confusion. “You are inviting me to have tea with you?” She paused, tilting her head to one side in thought. “It is not yet afternoon, but I suppose that would be quite pleasant. I accept your invitation.”
He stared at her, every prepared word about how sorry he was that the other ladies had to leave, and how he hoped she would have a nice afternoon vanishing off his tongue. He had not meant tojoinhis wife for tea and cake, but if he refused, he worried she might be even sadder.
“Where is your preference?” he asked, resigned.
She smiled, those beautiful eyes brightening a touch. “The Tea House, I think. Where better for tea and cake?”
“I shall see to it immediately,” he said, walking off to instruct Belinda about the slight change of events.
“May I be honest with you?” Teresa said, gingerly sipping the hot, comforting tea.
The gloomy weather outside the glass Tea House made the tea even more delicious, and would have soothed her heart completely if it were not for the company. For at least twenty minutes, Cyrus had been sitting there, staring out at the gardens, not saying a word.
