“Mr Aubrey?” Rose came to a halt, Griff and Rhiannon’s claws skittering in alarmed chorus on the flagstones around her. “Are you lost?”
Mr Aubrey startled so hard that the book jumped in his hands. He scrambled to catch it, his skin tinting pink. “Rose! I mean, Miss ... that is ...” His gaze skated towards hers and then away, his cheeks flushing even deeper. “I do beg your pardon.”
“Granted, gladly.” All the simmering tension from Rose’s meeting with Serena drained away in the sunny pleasure of the moment. Her right hand itched to smooth away the lock of fair hair that had fallen over Mr Aubrey’s high forehead; she closed her fingers over her palm to hold herself back. “There must be more comfortable spots for your study. Has no one directed you to the breakfast room yet?”
“Oh, I never require any breakfast.” He shrugged, as if it were of no consequence. “I rarely think of food in time, you see; my mind’s on other matters when I first wake, and by the time I do remember, it generally seems too late to be worth the effort.”
“Well, it isn’t too late now,” Rose said firmly. “I’ll find you all the breakfast you can eat, and you may read through it without any fear of interruptions. I only need to have a quick word with Mrs Davies first – is she in there? – and then—”
A sudden clatter of pots sounded from within the kitchen, followed by the sound of a muffled male curse.
Rose’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Is that Uncle Parry?”
Mr Aubrey winced. “I ... must tell you that I am not meant to allow anyone into the kitchen at the moment.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Please,” Mr Aubrey said fervently, “don’t ask me for details. I beg you.”
“But—”
“Miss Parry, I must confess—”
“My name—”
“I cannot explain this phenomenon!” Agitation sounded in Mr Aubrey’s voice as he spoke over her. “Indeed, there is no rational reason I can fathom … and yet, somehow, I find it extraordinarily difficult not to do whatever you ask of me, no matter how irregular it may be. There is simply something inexplicably compelling about you. I can’t say if it’s the tone of your voice, or your glorious hair, or the confidence in your demeanour, or the way that you care for frightened dragons ...”
He shrugged helplessly. “Perhaps, if I could only identify the cause, I could attempt to shield myself against it. But I cannot – and I have made promises to your uncle in consideration of our long friendship and the deep respect I bear him. It would be dishonourable of me to break those promises now.”
“I ... see.” Rose blinked, uncharacteristically lost for words. Something warm and soft felt as if it were tentatively unfurling behind her chest. She raised one hand to rest against the thin muslin just below her collarbone.
“You mustn’t ask me to answer any questions about ... whoever may be in the kitchen at this moment, or why they might be there. Please.” Mr Aubrey’s expression was openly beseeching in the warm daylight that streamed through the high window, lighting every tint of colour in his flushed cheeks and crystalline green eyes and the fair, glinting hair that still fell helplessly over his forehead.
“Very well.” Rose rubbed gently at that strange, fragile spot of vulnerability on her chest, and then forced her hand to fall away. “Of course I shan’t ask you anything further. But Mr Aubrey ...” A pang of guilt shot through her as she remembered Serena’s words. “If you feel I’ve been too forceful with you, or hopelessly inconsiderate—”
“Not at all,” he said quickly. “In fact, I rather ... no! I beg your pardon.” Flushing deeper, he glanced away, the tip of his tongue licking rapidly across his upper lip in a gesture that made Rose take an involuntary step closer. “You don’t wish to hear more of my thoughts at this moment.”
“I assure you, I do.” Rose angled her head to try to catch his gaze in hers, her whole body tingling with a delightful, anticipatory warmth. “Why shouldn’t I?”
“You needn’t be kind,” he muttered. “I am aware that I am not well suited to society, by nature.” His eyelashes lowered to cover his eyes, like shields raised against oncoming arrows. “I have no skill at discussing matters outside my own sphere of interests, and I have been clearly informed in the past that my interests are not of interest to personable young ladies.”
“Nonsense,” said Rose. “Your interests are focused on dragons, are they not?” She gestured towards the two small beasts behind her, an alert and interested audience peeking around her legs at the conversation above. “Why would you assume that I’d be bored by that topic when I’ve been asking for your advice and help ever since your arrival?”
He winced. “Of course. You wish for my help for the sake of your dragons, and I am happy to grant it. Naturally.” Lifting his head, Mr Aubrey straightened his shoulders. “I have been thinking on the question you posed to me last night. When it comes to your young male Dracus domesticus—”
“Griff,” Rose corrected him – and then jumped as a curious chirp sounded behind her in immediate response. “Oh, you clever boy! You’ve already learned your new name, haven’t you? And it hasn’t even been a full day yet!”
She sank to the floor in a swift crumple of skirts to stroke and coo over the little golden dragon. Griff tipped his head back to soak in every bit of her admiration, making a clicking sound deep within his long, scaly throat. Rhiannon clambered halfway over him to claim her own share of the attention, and it took a long moment for Rose, laughing and delighted, to even think to look up again.
By then, she fully expected to find Mr Aubrey immersed once more in his book. Instead, the volume hung as if forgotten from one hand as he looked down at her and the dragons swarming over her lap with a furrowed brow and an expression she couldn’t interpret.
“Oh, dear,” she said ruefully. “I do beg your pardon. It was rude of me to abandon our conversation, wasn’t it? I’m afraid I was taken by surprise and didn’t think. But wasn’t that utterly marvellous of him?” She shook her head in wonder as she beamed up at the scholar, continuing to pet Griff and Rhiannon, as demanded, with one hand apiece. “Did you already know, from your studies, just how clever dragons could be, and how quickly they would learn new things?”
Mr Aubrey’s lips twitched. “According to your uncle, that should have been long since proven by every one of the old legends and fairy stories. Unfortunately, I’m afraid I considered all of those to be nonsense until only last week. By the established logic of natural science, these creatures shouldn’t be nearly so responsive. And yet, as every debutante in London with a dragon on her shoulder knows, they do indeed rapidly learn new habits.”
“At least some parts of those old stories must have been true.” Rose looked fondly from one scaly face to another. “They may not be huge or fire-breathing – although the burns on Sir Gareth’s wrist do make me wonder – but they certainly have powers that natural science can’t explain.”
“Not yet,” Mr Aubrey said firmly. “But as I was beginning to say ...”
