“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 spoonful?”
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—”
