by Erica Ridley
A maid answered Virginia’s knock and immediately ushered her into the drawing room. Gloria was reclining on the sofa with a book. When she glimpsed Virginia, a wide smile lit Gloria’s face.
“What a lovely surprise!” She pushed the book aside and sat up straight. “Shall we have tea?”
Virginia eased into the wingback chair closest to her friend. “Where’s Christopher?”
Gloria’s gaze filled with warmth. “I sent him to the jeweler to have new bearings designed for the orrery. He’ll return within the hour, if you’d like to see him.”
Virginia did not. She was glad to have a moment alone with a good friend. “Do you still read all the Society papers?”
“Dear heavens, what misdeeds are you accusing me of?” Gloria’s eyes widened. “Of course I read the Society papers.”
“What do they say about…” Virginia hesitated. She did not want to betray Theodore’s secret. “…the war?”
“That it’s ongoing, of course. That the French are a mix of angels and demons, Boney being the worst of the lot.” Gloria shook her head. “I feel so sorry for the le Duc family, being caught in the middle.”
Virginia agreed, but this was not the direction she had intended to take the conversation. She clenched her teeth. This would be so much easier if she could just ask what she wanted to know. How did anyone manage anything by relying on subtleties alone?
“I meant…” She cleared her throat. “…is there any mention of ‘war heroes?’”
“Any mention?” Gloria fanned herself. “At least half the columns and two thirds of the caricatures are devoted to illustrating military officers and their conquests. Wellington, of course. And Ormondton. Oh, and Brigadier—”
“Ormondton?” Virginia asked.
“Lord Ormondton,” Gloria clarified. “A viscount and a major. Until he left for war, Ormondton was famous for being a quick study in almost any topic, and infamous for a cutting glance apparently powerful enough to level an entire ballroom in the blink of an eye.” She giggled. “How I wish I could see that!”
“But you won’t?” Virginia asked.
“Not unless the war comes here,” Gloria agreed. “Ormondton is in France, wielding weapons far more dangerous than ‘cutting glances.’ When he returns to London, he’ll have his pick of brides, and the Society papers will have to find some other strong, handsome, victorious officer to wax poetic about.”
Virginia’s chest tightened at the mention of brides. Theodore had chosen. Lady Beatrice was the lucky lady. And as his nurse, Virginia would do whatever it took to hurry her patient back into his intended’s arms.
Even if it killed her.
Chapter 7
Six months ago, if one of his soldiers had asked Theo what he imagined himself doing upon his return to England, his response would not have been, “Loitering on crutches in the Duke of Azureford’s corridor in anticipation of my self-appointed nurse, out for her afternoon constitutional.”
And yet here he was.
Being able to use crutches instead of the wheeled chair was nothing short of a triumph, but there was still a long way to go. Theo could only put weight on his injured leg for a step or two before the pain struck back.
The silver lining was that the pain was less intense each time. Thanks to adhering to his exercise regimen with clockwork precision, he could already discern more dexterity, and range of motion. He was well on the way to recovery. Another step closer to spending the rest of his life with Lady Beatrice.
Theo forced himself not to grimace at the thought. He had no desire to speed along his impending marriage. Perhaps that was why he was standing in the corridor with one ear cocked for the sound of a brass knocker.
He almost tumbled from his crutches when Virginia walked around the corner carrying her wicker basket.
“You didn’t knock,” he blurted out, mortified at having been caught waiting like a puppy. “Did you bring ice cream this time, or some other misbegotten creature to add to my growing collection?”
“The color of the plumage does not determine the worth of the bird.” She set the basket down just inside the front parlor. “Walk this way so I can see how you’re doing.”
When he reached her, Virginia dropped to a crouch and ran her hands over his leg. “Does it hurt when I touch it?”
His brain emptied of all logic every time she touched him anywhere.
“No,” he managed.
She frowned. “It feels swollen.”
“I rarely need the ice,” he assured her.
To anyone else, he would not have admitted any pain or weakness. Virginia was different. From the moment he’d realized she required direct cues, he had found himself adapting to ensure she understood what he thought, how he felt.
It was not honesty that was new to him, but the vulnerability that came with it. Other people might have known him for longer, but she was seeing sides of him he had never shown to anyone.
He swept into the parlor as elegantly as a military officer on crutches could do and dropped himself into a chair near the fire.
“Join me,” he said as he lowered his crutches to the floor. “Are you peckish?”
“I hope you are.” She brought her basket into the room, then hesitated. “Do you like these visits?”
“Yes,” he admitted gruffly.
Her eyes met his. “Me, too.”
He was pleased by her admission. She had also begun meeting his gaze more often. Theo wasn’t certain if it was because she was changing or because he was.
“You have pretty eyes,” he said before he could stop himself. Curse his tongue. It was not the sort of comment one made to someone with whom one was trying to maintain a platonic relationship.
Her cheeks flushed pink. “Everything about you is handsome.”
Definitely not the icy response required to keep the heat between them at bay.
“Thank you for having the staff prepare my favorite foods,” he said gruffly. Surely that was a safer topic. “What’s in the basket?”
She opened the lid with a little smile. “Ice cream.”
He shot up straight, stomach growling in eager anticipation. He held out his hand. “You were right. I am indeed peckish.”
“Good.” She pulled a small covered dish and a spoon from the basket but handed him only the spoon.
He glanced around the room. “Shall we move to the tea table?”
Rather than respond, she carried his dish of ice cream to the furthest corner of the parlor and set it down behind one of Azureford’s decorative folding screens.
“There you go,” she said, as if her action made sense.
“There I go what?” he asked. “Searching for hidden ice cream? I know where it is. I saw you put it behind the folding screen.”
“Go fetch it.”
“Go…” He stared at her. “What did you just say to me?”
“The mother bird brings worms to her chicks so that one day, they may learn to hunt for themselves.”
“You want me to hunt a bowl of ice cream?”
She nodded. “It’s good for you. You rely too much on your crutches. They are not your mama bird.”
With a sigh, Theo snatched his crutches up from the floor and hauled himself to his feet. “I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing it because I like ice cream.”
He made it across the room to the folding screen without issue, then realized kneeling to pick up the bowl would require some ingenuity. There would be no way to do so in a graceful manner. Perhaps that was why she had placed the ice cream behind the screen. She had anticipated his reluctance for her to witness his ungainly first attempt.
He switched both crutches to one side and crouched with his good knee. The ice cream awaited, as promised. Unfortunately, the bowl barely contained a single spoonful.
“Did you eat this on the way over?” he called out.
“It’s all for you,” she replied.
“All of it?” he asked sarcastically. “The entire spoo
nful?”
She didn’t answer.
He scooped the single creamy spoonful into his mouth and tried to savor it as long as possible. Because no one could see him, he tipped the bowl to his mouth and tried to scrape the last few sugary sweet drops before giving up and rising back to his feet.
He stepped out from behind the folding screen. “I fell for your dastardly trick. Walked all this way, only for—”
She was not where he had left her. Virginia was now on the opposite side of the room, balancing a small bowl on the back of the Duke of Azureford’s plush settee.
“If that falls,” Theo warned her, “the fabric will be ruined.”
“Come fetch it, then.” Virginia walked away from the sofa without a backward glance.
Theo glared at her, then glared at the settee and its precarious bowl of ice cream.
“I’m not doing this for you,” he told her. “I’m preventing a crime against expensive satin.”
She didn’t answer.
This time, he could see it was because she was trying not to smile.
Minx.
He arranged the crutches beneath his arms and deposited the empty previous bowl on the closest tea table before continuing on to the sofa.
When he arrived, he realized the difficulty of the new task. He could not crouch, as he had done before. Nor could he lean the crutches against the sofa without toppling the bowl from its perch. He could transfer both crutches to one side, as he had done before, but he would have to count on the support of both his legs in order to rescue the bowl before it fell.
He turned to face her. “Are you naturally this diabolical, or—”
Naturally this diabolical.
She was across the room again, this time standing on her tiptoes to place a third bowl of ice cream high atop the Duke of Azureford’s drawing room clock.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
“You like ice cream and need to stretch. This is the game.”
He scowled at her. “It’s a terrible game.”
She peeked inside the wicker basket and made a sorrowful expression. “Do you want to stop playing?”
“Damn it,” he muttered, and turned back to the sofa. “I’m not doing this for you—”
“You are doing it for yourself,” she finished. “For your knee, and for regaining your confidence. The chair was your first crutch, and these are the new ones. The goal is to rely on them less, not more. You can do this.”
“I know I can,” he snapped without turning around.
He knew no such thing. Any second now, he was about to splatter half-melted ice cream all over the Duke of Azureford’s furniture. Right before tumbling arse-over-teakettle himself.
From the corner of his eye, a stealthy black shadow crept into the parlor.
“No,” Theo told the cat firmly. “Do not jump on the sofa. We’ll both be wearing the ice cream.”
Duke lowered his shoulders and arched his hips in preparation to pounce.
Theo’s hand shot out and snatched the dish from the back of the settee seconds before the cat landed in the same spot.
Wood clattered against the Axminster carpet as his forgotten crutch crashed to the floor.
“This is your fault,” he informed the cat, then turned to Virginia. “Yours, too.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Hurry. Your competition just caught wind of the dish atop the clock.”
Theo scooped the single bite of ice cream into his mouth, then bent to retrieve his fallen crutch.
He could not yet put his full weight on his wounded knee, but Virginia was correct that he had been using the crutches as extra legs instead of strengthening the ones he had.
She was also right that if Theo didn’t do something soon, Duke would be first to the next bowl of ice cream.
He half-walked, half-swung himself across the parlor with more speed than he ever dreamed. Theo already shared a guestroom with that wretched creature. He wasn’t about to share his ice cream, too.
Once he rescued the treasure, he shot a dark look at Virginia. “I thought you said recovery was a march, not a race.”
“Recovery is a march,” she agreed as she carried her basket to the other side of the room. “Ice cream is a race.”
There was no way Theo was going to beat the cat that far… Unless he did something about it.
Foregoing the spoon, Theo tipped the bowl of melting ice cream to his mouth and swallowed the tiny serving. He slid the dish off the carpet and tapped his fingers against the hardwood floor to catch the cat’s attention.
Duke glanced over his shoulder in boredom, then kept advancing toward the new bowl.
“You know you want it,” Theo cajoled. “Duke, Duke, Duke.”
The one word the beast could not resist.
With obvious irritation, the cat gave up its hunt for the fresh bowl of ice cream in order to race over and hiss.
Before the beast could run off, Theo scooted the dish beneath his chin.
Duke stopped baring his teeth at once and lowered his tongue into the bowl.
Victorious, Theo glanced over at Virginia.
She was not even trying to hide her laughter.
“Wars are won with brains, not brawn,” he informed her as he swung past to retrieve his prize.
By the time the last of the ice cream had been consumed, Theo and Virginia were both giggling like children as they collapsed into side-by-side wingback chairs.
“That wasn’t ice cream,” he growled. “It was runny, melted sweet milk.”
“Get faster,” she replied unrepentantly. “I didn’t hear Duke complain.”
The beast opened one eye from his comfortable position curled before the fire, too sated to bother hissing in response to his name.
“Do you miss him?” Theo asked Virginia.
“I miss everything I love and no longer have.” Her wistful gaze lowered to the cat at their feet. “Does he bring you comfort?”
Theo was fairly certain “comfort” was not the right term. “Did you lose someone you loved?”
“All of them,” she said matter-of-factly. “And then I found new things to love.”
“Like Duke?”
This time, the cat didn’t even open an eye.
“I love all of Christmas,” she said simply. “My friends, the nature that surrounds us, the castle.”
He shook his head. “You can’t love an inanimate object.”
“I can.” She lifted her chin. “I love the sharp scent of pine beneath the winter chill. I love the crunch of snow beneath my boots. I love the squeak in your front door.”
“It’s not mine,” he murmured. “Take it up with Azureford.”
“I love the library—”
“Books… come from trees that used to be animate, I suppose,” he said with a straight face. “I’ll allow it.”
“I love that you arch your left eyebrow when I’m meant to take you seriously, and your right when I am not.” Her lips curved. “And I love that I figured that out on my own.”
Theo became uncomfortably aware of his eyebrows.
“I never jest,” he told her solemnly.
“Then why does your right brow arch whenever you mention everyone else’s expectations?”
“Everyone who?” he asked. “I don’t care about anyone’s opinion.”
Except Virginia’s. He realized he very much cared and did not wish for her to find him lacking.
She lifted a shoulder. “Lady Beatrice, your father…”
He scowled at her. “I thought you were rubbish at ferreting out people’s feelings.”
“I’ve been practicing with you for weeks.” Her cheeks turned pink. “And I wasn’t one hundred percent certain until you confirmed my suspicions just now.”
“There are people who have known me for nine-and-twenty years who have not figured out as much as you have done in less than a month.”
“Perhaps I try harder,” she said softly.
He was not entirely c
ertain he liked the idea that she could see deeper inside him than anyone had ever glimpsed before.
“Do you want to marry Lady Beatrice?” Virginia asked.
“No,” he admitted. “But I will.”
“Does she want to marry you?”
“No,” he said. “She wants to marry a war hero. What she’ll get is me.” His shoulders tensed. “Our fathers agreed on this arrangement the day she was born. If I refuse, my father will disown me.”
A darkness flickered in her eyes. “He can’t disown a son. Sons are more important than daughters.”
“To some fathers,” Theo agreed. “For now, I am locked in an excruciating, never-ending apprenticeship. I cannot advance without proving my worth and am never given the opportunity to try.”
“What is left to prove?” Virginia asked. “If your father is the only person who can’t see your value, the fault lies not with you but with his willful blindness.”
She didn’t understand because she didn’t know his father was a marquess… and the most exacting man of Theo’s acquaintance. Even if pleasing his father was impossible, Theo still longed to be seen as an equal. To work side-by-side.
“My father,” he said at last, “won’t let go of the reins for a single moment. He controls everything and everyone in his life with ruthless precision.”
“Birds of a feather,” Virginia said. “You seem to have inherited your father’s need for control.”
He glared at her. “I am nothing like my father.”
“Every ripple is unique, and exactly like those that came before.” She pursed her lips. “Do you know the difference between the greater and lesser white-toothed shrew?”
“The greater white-toothed shrew is slightly larger, and its teeth are unpigmented.” He pretended to stifle a yawn. “Who doesn’t know that?”
“You didn’t,” she said in surprise. “One week ago.”
Theo widened his eyes innocently. “That was before you loaned me an illustrated book on the topic.”
“I didn’t think you’d read it,” she admitted.