Her smile widened. She put down her bag. “Idowant. I hope it’s something deliciously Santiavan. Will I need a pen?”
“A pen?”
“For the work,” she said.
“Ah, of course. But I think not.” Because he had no work for her. It was all a made-up, preposterous pretense, because he had nothing but a desire to be with her and didn’t know how to ask that of her. He rang for Borerro, and told him, in Spanish, that he and Miss Woodchurch would be finishing up this evening, and he would like Yolanda to prepare the paella she’d made.
When Borerro went out, Mateo directed Hattie to the settee and took a chair across from her. “May I ask a question?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“Why have you not replied to the invitation to the ball?”
She looked a bit taken aback. “Oh. I only just decided. I’ll bring my reply tomorrow, if I may.”
“Of course.” Why had she only just decided? “Did something give you pause?”
She shrugged lightly. “It’s simple, really. I don’t belong there. Your ball is for the Quality.”
He was surprised by her response—she didn’t strike him as someone concerned about that sort of thing. At least, she hadn’t thus far. “That’s not so. I didn’t see to it that an invitation was issued to you so that you might look after children.”
She grinned. “Well, thank you for that, at least. Why did you invite me?”
She had to ask? “Hattie...you belong. You’re my friend and I wish to have you there. I expect to be accosted by eager mothers and their daughters. What if I’m dragged onto the dance floor and made to choose before God and everyone? Who will avenge my demise?”
“Oh, Teo,” she said sweetly. “I believe with all my heart that your mother would avenge you. I think she would relish the challenge.”
He couldn’t help but laugh. “So you have taken my mother’s measure. But you are mistaken—she will lead me to my demise. I don’t mean to impose on our friendship, but you’ve surely noticed by now that I’m not particularly affable or easy around people. And that is not from a lack of want.”
“I haven’t noticed any such thing.”
He gave her a knowing smile. “Hattie.”
“I haven’t!” she insisted. “What I’ve noticed is that you are reserved. Many people are reserved. In school, there was a girl, Mary Collins, who could hardly utter her own name out loud. We thought something quite wrong with her, that she suffered from a shyness so profound as to render her a mute. But when Jenny kicked Sarah, Mary intervened and knocked Jenny to the ground.”
“Dios mío,”Mateo said, surprised and amused by the turn in her story.
“It was a bit violent, but the point is, Mary was reserved—until she needed not to be. So are you.”
“No, I am...” He tried to think of the proper English word.“Timidez.”
“Timid?”
“Something like that. My father was very hard on me as his heir and future head of the duchy. He wanted to discipline and teach me and mold me into his image. He attempted to do so by finding fault in most everything I did or said, and as a result, I learned to say very little and believed everyone who looked in my direction was eyeing me critically.”
“How awful for you. And your mother?”
“My mother kept my father happy and didn’t burden herself with her children—Rosa has been more of a mother to me than the duchess.”
“Teo, goodness,” she said softly. “That must have been difficult for you.”
He smiled ruefully. His childhood had not been a storybook, and for better or worse, it had shaped who he was today. “I was privileged in many other ways.”
“Mine was a bit difficult, too—until Lord Iddesleigh saved me.”
Mateo frowned. “Savedyou?”
“He did, truly. He managed to convince my parents that I should attend his school. I don’t know how he managed, as they can rarely be convinced of anything other than what serves their interests, and my father...my father does not like to part with his money. But had it not been for Lord Iddesleigh and the school, I don’t think I’d have the confidence to seek work and make my own way. I owe him a debt of gratitude.”
