“Would you like for me to ring for some tea?” she asked.
Fanny gave a warm smile as she strode into the room. “That’s not necessary. At my age, the less you drink in the evening before bed, the less you have to get up and use the chamber pot.”
Lyra couldn’t help but laugh. “I suppose you’re right.” As they settled themselves around the fire, she asked, “Are you warm enough? Do you need a blanket?”
Fanny held up her wool shawl. “This is perfectly fine. It’s not as if this house is a drafty old castle after all.”
“No, it’s not,” Lyra agreed. Then, before she could think better of it, she blurted out, “Did you love your husband?” Realizing how crass that sounded, she waved her hand. “I’m sorry. That was rather sudden…”
“It’s alright.” Fanny smiled. “I don’t get offended easily. To answer your question, yes, I did. My husband and I were inseparable, but don’t think that we never had a disagreement, because we did. It was a tumultuous relationship in our youth, but over time, it grew into something strong and binding. I mourned his loss.”
“Did you have any children?”
The older woman tilted her head to the side, but she didn’t look perturbed by the additional query. “No, I was never blessed with my own, although I had plenty of nieces and nephews to dote on through the years. Of course, most of them have grown up and moved away, but I’m content as a companion.”
Lyra sighed. “Perhaps I shall do the same. Or even become a governess when all this is over.”
Mrs. Birdwell surprised her by asking, “Is that what you really want?”
Lyra tried to lie, but her shoulders slumped. “No.”
After a brief pause, Fanny asked gently, “What about the duke?”
“What about him?”
“Is he what you want?”
Lyra sighed. “Honestly? I don’t know.”
“I believe you can have the same kind of marriage I had. You need only to trust that you are worthy of such happiness.”
“And you think I don’t?” Lyra asked with a sad smile.
“It’s not for me to judge anyone,” Fanny replied softly. “All I can tell you is not to deny your heart.”
Lyra twisted her hands in her lap. “I’m not sure I wish to marry again.” She lifted her eyes. “Is that so terribly wrong?”
The lines around her companion’s face softened. “Deciding on one’s life companion is never an easy choice, especially when you were dealt a difficult hand already. But I think before you discount the notion of making a life with Albright, you should remember that he’s made a pretty good start in proving his devotion by rescuing you from that Tower.”
Lyra couldn’t help but snort at that. “You make me sound like some sort of medieval princess.”
Fanny shrugged. “And what’s wrong with ending up with a handsome prince?”
“Because they only exist in fairy tales.”
“Don’t be so sure,” Mrs. Birdwell said with a wink. “You might be surprised someday.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Alister took off his spectacles and pinched the bridge of his nose. He couldn’t help but imagine what Lyra would say if she could see him now. He certainly looked the part of an inept simpleton at the moment when he was reduced to wearing glasses to read.
Blowing out a breath, he shot a quick glance at the clock on the mantle that told him it was nearly six in the morning. Stretching the kinks in his neck and back, he was rewarded with a satisfying pop of his spine. He stood and walked over to the window, deciding that a short break was in order. Surely he deserved a few moments to think about Lyra uninterrupted after more than nine hours of research trying to decode that damned cipher. He felt confident he was getting close to figuring it out, but there was still something he was missing that was just out of reach.
He had hoped to be done with the blasted thing by now and on his way back to London, but at this rate, it seemed he wouldn’t be back at Weston House until lunchtime. If he was lucky. At one point he’d considered calling on Drayven for help, but he didn’t want to pull him off Roger’s trail. Besides, decoding hidden messages was one of Alister’s specialties. Or rather, it used to be. He wasn’t gaining much ground in this instance.
With a scowl, he was just about to get back to work when there was a furious pounding at the front door. Instantly, concern for Lyra had him running out of the study and into the foyer. He threw open the door before his butler had even made an appearance.
Before he could even get past the shock of seeing his sister on the front step in that ridiculous purple turban she always favored, Euphemia shoved her way inside, then turned to him in the middle of the foyer with a particularly condemning glare. “I don’t appreciate your childish antics, Ali. I am quite put out with you for cutting off my credit.”
