She let out a delighted snort, loud enough to stir the pug at her feet. “You say that every time, and not once have I obeyed.”
Theo rose and moved to the hearth, placing a hand on the mantle. “This is different.”
“Ah, so there it is.” Eugenia took a delicate sip. “You are fond of her.”
“It’s not?—”
“Do hush. I have eyes, even if they are fifty years old and occasionally require spectacles.”
He turned toward her. “I’ve simply asked that you receive a guest this afternoon. That is all.”
“A guest you have never brought before.”
He exhaled through his nose. “She is not?—”
“Yes, yes. Not anything. Just a name. Just a walk in the park. Just a passing mention to your butler when arranging the tea tray.”
Eugenia lowered her cup and studied him over the rim. “Everything tells me that you have found someone who unsettles you.”
“She does not unsettle me.”
The look she gave him was withering. “You’re wearing your fencing jaw. The one you get when you’ve been bested.”
Theo glanced away.
“You brought her name into this house,” she said, more gently now. “That alone tells me everything I need to know.”
He said nothing, and Eugenia leaned back, smiling. “I cannot wait to meet her.”
He didn’t answer. He only stared into the fire a moment longer then reached into his coat to check his watch.
Time, it seemed, had started moving differently.
April was shown into the drawing room of the Dowager Countess of Darnell’s townhouse. The moment she stepped across the threshold, she saw Theo. He was standing by the hearth, speaking quietly to an older lady in a moss-green dress who reclined in a chair with the air of a duchess disguised as a general.
“Lady April Vestiere,” the butler announced.
Theo turned first. And then, as though the sun shifted only for her benefit, so did the Countess.
“Ah! So this is the young woman I’ve been hearing about,” Lady Darnell said, rising with more grace than strength.
Theo crossed to her and offered his arm. “Lady April, may I present my aunt, Eugenia Forest, Dowager Countess of Darnell.”
April curtsied. “It is a pleasure to meet you, My Lady.”
“The pleasure, I assure you, is entirely mine,” the Countess said, taking April’s hand warmly. “Sit down, child. We must have tea before my wits escape me entirely.”
April sat, conscious of Theo’s steady presence beside her and of Lady Darnell’s sharp eyes—piercing, fond, impossibly perceptive.
As if summoned, a maid entered with the tea tray, setting it gently before them with a quiet bow. The clink of porcelain filled the momentary silence.
“Now then,” Lady Darnell said, choosing a currant biscuit with the decisive air of a woman choosing her second favorite weapon, “do you have talents?”
April blinked. “I… play the pianoforte. A little.”
The Countess laughed, full of mirth. “Not that sort of talent. I mean, do you have the talent for capturing hearts? Because I have a nephew whose heart has been buried beneath years of solitude and grim logic. He needs loosening. Preferably by a clever young woman with excellent posture.”
Theo made a low sound of protest. “Aunt.”
