“Oh hush, Theodore,” she said with a wave of her biscuit. “Your bark is worse than your bite.”
April glanced at him, prepared to find him irritated. Instead, he looked like a man quietly resigned to familial sabotage.
“Lady April,” Lady Darnell went on, leaning slightly forward, “I trust you are not too easily intimidated.”
“I live with two sisters and a mother who believes sherry is medicinal. I consider myself seasoned.”
The Countess chuckled. “Then you may be exactly what he needs.”
Theo looked to the ceiling.
“Tulip!” Lady Darnell clapped her hands once.
From beneath the settee emerged a lazy gray pug with watery eyes and the resigned expression of a creature who had seen too much. It waddled toward April, sniffed once, and collapsed at her feet.
“She takes to very few people,” Lady Darnell said with a pleased hum. “You must be special.”
“I’m honored,” April replied, genuinely warmed.
They drank their tea. The Countess poured with a flourish, adding cream and sugar to Theo’s cup without asking. April raised her brows.
“He pretends he prefers it bitter now,” the Countess said. “But once upon a time, he wouldn’t touch tea unless it was nearly syrup.”
Theo sipped without complaint.
“He was a cheerful child,” Lady Darnell continued, taking her time with her own cup. “Rambunctious, even. Fell off his pony when he was six because he insisted the beast could jump a rose hedge. It could not.”
April laughed. “That I would have paid to see.”
“You would have laughed,” Theo murmured, “until the hedge fought back.”
April met his gaze. There it was again—the quiet pull of something beneath the surface. He wasn’t open, not quite, but there was less distance between them today.
“He also had a deplorable sweet tooth,” Lady Darnell went on. “Sugarplums vanished by the dozen. I once caught him hiding licorice in his Latin primer.”
April nearly choked. “You don’t take sugar now.”
“One adapts,” Theo said, but his gaze didn’t leave hers.
Why did I not know this?she wondered.Why is it easier to know him here in this room under the shadow of someone he loves?
Lady Darnell watched them both with something that looked suspiciously like satisfaction.
“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “the two of you have a rhythm. Like a duet. I do adore a duet.”
April tried to hide her smile with her teacup.
“You meddle,” Theo said though his voice held no real heat.
“Of course, I do. I’m elderly. It’s my divine right.”
Then came the cough. Sharp, short, but insistent.
April was on her feet at once, napkin in hand. “Here, My Lady.”
“Thank you, my dear,” Lady Darnell said, dabbing at her mouth with trembling fingers. “It’s nothing. Just a reminder that I am not immortal.”
Theo stood, his voice gentler than April had ever heard it. “Would you like to rest, Aunt?”
