I give them both a nod, my heart beating furiously in my chest. “Good day. Would it trouble you if I had my meal in here?”
Ruby looks to Ella for guidance. Ella is the one to answer me. “The dining room is more befitting your station. Surely you would be most comfortable there?”
Squaring my shoulders, I pluck up some of that nerve waiting inside of me. That voice I’ve squashed time and again since I was young. Myflight of fancy, as my mother would call it. My confidence.
My wings.
“I’ve rarely been comfortable in my life, Ella,” I tell the woman truthfully. “Sitting alone in the dining room while I wait for Arthur to return sounds quite boorish, if I’m to be honest. You must see I am no lady. It’s an endeavor I’ve failed, no matter how hard I’ve tried. And perhaps I’ll never be a lord, but what I would like, for once in my life, is to sit in a nice warm kitchen and not have to pretend like titles are the marker of a person. It’s asinine, is it not? To be who we are simply because it’s what someone else told us to be? I’m done standing on custom, and I hope that does not offend, but I don’t need anyone here to stand on custom, either. This is a table, correct?” I pat the surface of the roughened wood beside me. “Surely I may eat on it?”
It’s quiet for all of a beat before Ruby scrambles forward. She moves a tea towel off the table and then motions me toward the nearest seat, a smile on her face that takes me by surprise. I sit down, and Bess joins me, just as the door opens.
Willard steps through and stills, his eyes sweeping the room. He lingers, briefly, on me, but politely doesn’t stare, his head dipping in a bow. “Has there been a problem?”
I don’t have time to answer him before Ella does, speaking matter-of-factly while dusting her hands on her apron. “Charlie is joining us for lunch. Take a seat, Willard.”
The butler, looking rather startled, sits down opposite me. I pull in a slow, steadying breath, my eyes stinging and my chest oh so tight beneath my bindings. Ella places a tray in the centerof the table, laden with petite sandwiches. Ruby passes out plates.
So this, I think to myself,is rebellion.
I’m in the library when Arthur arrives home. There’s a smile on my face before he even clears the doorway, the quick cadence of his heavy footsteps easy to identify. He stops at the door, locating me before striding forward. He’s still wearing his coat, and I can only imagine Willard, flustered in the parlor as Arthur breezed by, not wanting to stop for a task as simple as removing the outerwear.
I expect the bodily upheaval of my person this time, so it’s less of a surprise when Arthur lifts me into his arms. It’s no less welcome, however.
“My love.” He kisses my cheek and then my lips and my nose, of all places, smelling like the outdoors, his hair ruffled and his own cheeks carrying the slightest chill. “I’m glad to find you out of our chamber.”
“You make me sound like a turtle hiding in his shell.”
He snorts an indelicate laugh. “The loveliest turtle, perhaps.”
Arthur lowers to the nearest settee with me still in his arms. I settle on the cushion beside him, Arthur crossing one leg over the other before he notices the small plate on the tea table in front of us.
Letting his leg drop, he leans forward, plucking a delicate cookie off the plate. “Are these my favorite honey cookies?”
“They are,” I tell him, pleased to hear his happy moan as he takes a bite. “Ella taught me how to make them.”
He stills, eyebrow high as he looks at me. “Truly? You’ve baked these yourself?”
“With help,” I amend. “Does that bother you?”
“My dear, you could run naked through the gardens, and I wouldn’t be bothered.” At my dubious expression, he tosses his eyes about and says, “A bad example, perhaps. There is not a single endeavor I would ask you to abandon, not if it makes you happy.”
A smile quirks my lips. “You’re quite committed to my happiness, it would seem.”
The bounce of Arthur’s eyebrows is all mischief, yet his eyes remain warm. “You’ve caught me out, I fear.”
A laugh bubbles up from my throat, and Arthur looks immensely gratified.
“Oh, I’ve good news.” He reaches for a second cookie before leaning back against the couch, popping the buttons on his coat. “Your new wardrobe is here. Boxed up still. But Willard assured me he’d have everything steamed and hung by this evening.”
“Arthur. You didn’t have to go to such trouble.”
“Charlie, my love, what’s mine is yours. But you have to admit, my trousers do not fit you well.”
No, I suppose I can’t deny that.
He goes on, voice ever gentle. “If any of the fabrics or colors don’t suit, let me know, and I’ll exchange them for another. And if any pieces need adjustment, I’ll have them brought to the tailor. It’s no trouble at all.”
I let out a breath that draws Arthur’s concern. He relaxes at my smile. “I learned something today.”
