“With Claire,” she prompted with a little frown. “Really, Freddy, how poor is your attention span when you’re not even listening to yourself?”
“Oh, right. With Claire. Do you want the details of all my sordid plans, then?” he teased, chuckling when she pinched him. He blinked, forcing his eyes away from the sun-bathed fire starter on the carpet. “Yes. If it is possible, I intend to reconcile.”
“I don’t thinkpossibleis the question, my dearest one. If she ran, she still cares.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he agreed, watching the clouds from the window, at the streaky shadows they cast on the lawn. He thought they looked like they were also in pursuit of one another. Perhaps the clouds themselves were divided lovers, eager to find one another again.
He glanced at his mother, sidelong, and perhaps just a little bit mischievous. “Did you run? When you saw Raul again?”
She pursed her lips, which won an actual laugh from him.
“You did!” he exclaimed. “Did you, really?”
“Not the way you are imagining,” she said with a sniff and a grimace, “but I certainly had the impulse. You’ve met Raul. He intercepted me.”
“Interception,” Freddy said thoughtfully. “Hm.”
“Hm,” she mocked with a click of her tongue. She leaned back in the lumpy embrace of the couch and turned her head, watchinghim with a little line between her brows. “Don’t mess it up, Freddy. I like Claire. You made a grand mess of it, but you chose well.”
“I know I did,” he replied. “I can’t promise I won’t mess it up, of course, but I would be open to assistance, should you feel so moved to offer it.”
“Ah,” she said, frowning. “Blackmail, is it?”
She reached up and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, considering his expression, like she could find the integrity of his commitment within it.
He smiled again, leaning back to meet her, and sighed happily. “Yes,” he said, pulling her hand from its task and kissing her knuckles. “I think it is.”
“Oh, very well,” she agreed, “I will assist you.”
“Good,” he said.
They sat in silence after that, just mother and son and the afternoon light that spread across the sprawling green of Crooked Nook.
She just hadto make it through the wedding. That was all. Just a week, and he’d be gone again. She could survive until the wedding, couldn’t she?
The wedding.
Claire could do that.
Just survive until the wedding.
Once she’d found her breath again and invited quite a lot of dust into her lungs besides, she’d emerged from that phantom library with a new outlook. She grabbed the first servant she passed by the shoulder and gave two commands—first, get Freddy’s thingsoutof the master chamber, and second, air out that room she’d just found!
What was that room about, existing like that beyond everyone’s perception? Unacceptable!
She’d then taken a turn back toward the proper library to find her son and his governess again, if only to check that she hadn’t completely lost her grip on what was real and what wasn’t.
Oliver was seated with his knees askew on the rug, sorting wooden toys into their proper categories. The governess looked a little harried, yes, but didn’t they always?
“Is it time for luncheon, Mama?” her little angel asked, blinking up at her. “Is it time for tea?”
“Not yet, sweeting,” she said with a gentle smile. “I only missed you.”
“Oh,” he said with obvious disappointment as he waved a wooden crescent at her. “Well, here I am!”
“There you are,” Claire agreed, before silently shutting the door behind her.
A maid was passing with a stack of linens, and Claire held her hand out to signal the girl to stop. “Marianne, have you seen the dowager?”
