“Leonard, good morning,” she said with a forced smile. “How did you sleep?” She knew the answer but was still dismayed when he replied.
“Not well,” he answered curtly, his tone distant. Sally’s heart sank at his abruptness, a sense of unease creeping into her stomach. They had been so close these past few days, and Leonard’s sudden coldness caught her off guard. Was this due to the lack of sleep or the previous conversation? Had he perhaps taken the Keller’s reminiscences about his parents harder than she’d feared? Or was he bothered by her admission after all? Perhaps quiet reflection had somehow changed his mind, and he no longer blamed her for her attack.
“I am sorry. What kept you up?” she asked as she got up to pour him a cup of tea.
“I am not sure, sometimes I suffer with sleeplessness. It can’t be helped.”
“Perhaps some chamomile or lavender tea could help you relax,” she offered. “We can pick some herbs later when we visit Joanna.” They were indeed due to visit Joanna and Kenneth today at their estate, and she knew that Kenneth’s home had one of the best herb gardens in all of England.
But Leonard’s response was brief, a mere nod that did little to dispel the uneasy air between them.
“Perhaps,” he said, absentmindedly dropping lumps of sugar into his tea, his distant gaze suggesting his mind was elsewhere. Sally noticed his reticence but resolved not to let this sour their interaction.
“So, do you not think the buns look delicious?” she asked, hoping to draw him into conversation. “I always adore them around this time of year. I wish we could have them every morning.
He glanced up briefly, his expression unreadable. “We can. You are Duchess of this manor now,” he replied curtly. “You can have whatever you want.”
Sally felt a pang of anxiety. He was withdrawing from her, but why? Or was she paranoid? Perdition. This man was an enigma she’d never solve.
“Well, I think hot cross buns are just special because we do not have them so often. Like mince pies at Christmas. I dare say I’d grow tired of them if I had them every day, but that doesn’t negate the impulse to wish for it.”
This drew his attention. “Impulses are rather perplexing. We know they are wrong and yet sometimes can’t resist them.”
She wetted her lips and gulped, unsure what he meant by that. Determined to salvage their rapport, she pressed on. “The Kellers were such pleasant company yesterday, weren’t they? I quite enjoyed their visit,” she remarked, hoping to elicit a more enthusiastic response from Leonard.
He nodded briefly before returning his attention to his food. The heavy silence that followed was punctuated only by the sound of Leonard cutting into his bread roll. The crackling as the knife sliced through the bread filled the air, and then the glass container holding the butter thudded against the table as he dropped it. Desperate to fill the void, Sally brought up the woven heart they had received from the Kellers.
“I hung the hearts up in the library,” she mentioned. “I thought since we both like to go there it would be a good place. What do you think?”
“That’s fine,” he replied, lacking the warmth that had characterized their interactions. Sally sat back, her lips pressed together in a slight frown, feeling lost in what else to say. She slid her spoon into the porridge, but instead of eating it, she stirred it around, replaying the previous evening repeatedly in her head. Then, she raised her chin and pursed her lips.
“Leonard,” she called, and he lowered the paper, squinting at her from over the top out of his mesmerizing eyes.
“Yes?”
“Did my revelation about how I hurt my ankle upset you?” she ventures, unable to hide the apprehension.
Looking up, Leonard’s expression softened, warmth returning to his eyes. “No, Sally, not at all,” he reassured her. “I meant everything I said. None of what happened was your fault. Why would you think otherwise?”
Why, indeed?
“You were quiet and so I thought perhaps you thought about what I said and decided you felt I was in the wrong after all,” she said, figuring telling the truth would not hurt anything now. At once, his face changed. Gone was the serious expression, the coldness. Instead, he leaned forward and placed a hand on hers.
“No, Sally. Not at all. You did nothing wrong. I meant every word I said. I would like to find the man and bring him to justice, in fact. My demeanor this morning is simply because I didn’t sleep well last night, that’s all.”
Feeling a sense of relief wash over her, Sally nodded, trying to shake off her discomforts. Perhaps she was reading too much into Leonard’s disposition after all.
“Thank you,” she said and picked up her spoon again. This time, she took a mouthful of her porridge, but an uncomfortable burning spread in her throat as she swallowed.
Placing a hand to her throat, she winced slightly, prompting Leonard to notice.
“Are you alright, Sally?” he asked, genuine concern evident.
Sally offered a weak smile. “Just a scratchy throat, probably from the change in the air,” she replied dismissively, trying to downplay the discomfort.
“Are you taking ill?” Leonard asked.
“I do not think so. Although…” she paused as she remembered that she’d woken with some stiffness in her bones that morning, a signal that a cold was taking hold. Though she’d dismissed it as having slept awkwardly, she could no longer do so. “Perhaps… I do feel a little odd this morning. I thought it was all because of our conversation last night but it might be a trifling cold after all.”
