Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
“Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown.”
Mrs. Abbot ordered a tray of my favorite lemon tea cakes when I came to visit Clearfield House. A week had passed now since I had seen her, and she welcomed me with tea and all my favorite sweets.
“Thank you!” I put a hand against my belly, feeling a faint rumble. “I fear I might eat them all.”
She laughed. “Please do! I know they are your favorite. Although I suggest you save one for Sophia. If not, she may duel you for it.”
My smile widened. Sophia and Lord Trowbridge were calling upon the Abbots along with Clara that afternoon.
I pushed the tea tray to the opposite side of the table, hoping the distance could offer me a little control.
I flexed my injured hand slowly, careful of the stitches beneath the bandages.
The stitches would be removed soon, and I was not looking forward to it.
I let my gaze wander to the pianoforte, allowing a wave of grief to settle over me once again.
Being so close to the instrument was a sharp reminder of what I had lost. I closed my eyes and imagined the music floating through the air, sifting out the heavy, painful things from my heart.
“Oh! Are they here already?” Mrs. Abbot exclaimed.
Rachel and Lucy looked up from their embroidery in surprise.
Mrs. Abbot straightened the tray, and we all sat facing the door, awaiting the earl’s arrival in the drawing room.
I straightened my posture and listened to the sound of feet in the entryway.
Then a clear, soft voice echoed, “Where are the cakes?”
I grinned, recognizing the voice as Sophia’s. The butler grumbled a reply and Sophia came skipping around the corner. She stopped when she saw me, her face molding into a shy smile.
“Good afternoon, Sophia! I have missed you.” I smiled when I saw the twine coiled atop her head.
She stepped forward and stopped just in front of me. Without another word, she unwrapped a similar piece of twine from around her wrist and presented it to me, grinning without reservation now. “I brought a crown for you too.”
I laughed, taking the brown piece of string from her. “Why a crown for me?”
“Because you said you didn’t have one.” She shrugged, tipping her head to the side. My heart warmed as I placed the twine in a ring atop my curls.
Sophia smiled, but then her forehead creased. “What happened to your hand?” Her voice was careful.
“It was…broken.” I held it out to her and she leaned closer, studying the shape of the bandages.
“Where are these fingers?” She pointed at the place where my fifth finger should have been, and at the shortness of my index and middle fingers.
I moved my hand away. “Gone.”
She looked up, her eyes round with concern. “Do you miss them?”
“Very much.” I took a breath. “There’s a great deal that I miss about them.
I require assistance writing, dressing, and arranging my hair.
And I miss playing music.” My voice was hushed as I spoke to her, as if sharing a secret.
I looked up at the doorway where Clara, Lord Trowbridge, and James were being greeted by Mrs. Abbot.
I looked again.
I hadn’t known James was accompanying them.
He caught my gaze and smiled. My breath lodged in my throat. I cleared it, returning my attention to Sophia.
She clasped her hands together in front of her, a thoughtful look on her face. “You should do what Papa says to do.”
My brow furrowed. “And what is that?”
“When you miss something, very much, just think of every good thing you still have. Think of all the good things you have been allowed to keep. Then you don’t miss the other things quite so much.” She gave a small smile. “That is what I do when I miss Mama.”
I marveled at the wisdom of such a young girl. “I will try it,” I assured her.
Her smile grew and she turned around. “Uncle James!” She ran across the room and landed in James’s outstretched arms. “I didn’t know you were coming too.”
He chuckled. “I hoped to surprise you.” His eyes flickered to me and I wondered if he knew how much his appearance here had surprised me as well.
I thought of the last time I had seen him.
He had left so abruptly…and I hadn’t seen him for a week since.
I puzzled at the time that had passed. Had it been only a week? It had seemed much longer than that.
Clara walked in the room and sat in the chair beside me. Her cheeks were flushed yet again, and her smile was wide. I followed her eyes—they were on Lord Trowbridge.
“He asked me my opinion on his waistcoat color today,” she whispered to me. “I told him to choose the green. He looks well, does he not?”
It was true. It seemed that Wortham men and the color green were designed for one another. James had worn a green waistcoat once. Today he wore blue.
Lord Trowbridge looked across the room at Clara.
I sat up straighter in my seat, searching for any connection between them.
The faintest hint of a smile crossed his lips as his gaze settled on her, and Clara’s eyes fell down, focused intensely on her hands in her lap.
I found myself close to laughter. “You must hold his gaze,” I whispered.
“Smile in return. Don’t let him see how he affects you. ”
She scowled. “It may be easy for you, but I am a novice. Besides, you have never been affected by a man.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw James walking in my direction. My heart quickened. “That is not entirely true,” I mumbled. I quickly straightened my hair and tried to appear nonchalant when he sat down beside me on the other end of the settee.
“What a lovely accessory,” he said, gesturing at the twine atop my head.
I reached up and touched it, an embarrassed laugh escaping my throat. “Sophia insisted that I wear one too.”
He shrugged. “I find it quite becomes you.” It was less his words but more the smile that followed that forced my eyes away from his face.
Why must he look at me like that? It was horribly unnerving. A hint of heat began at the base of my neck, burning up into my ears and cheeks. No. No no no. I was not blushing.
My gaze darted to Clara. Had she noticed?
Her lips quirked into a smile.
I ignored it and recovered my senses. I looked James in the eye. “Don’t make the mistake of assuming that flattery will increase my affection for you. You are still far below love.”
He laughed, leaning toward me and whispering, “Don’t make the mistake of assuming that I care.
” The lighthearted look in his eyes shifted, and he shook his head subtly.
“I mean to say that you look lovely—whether it increases your affection for me or not.” He quickly flashed a smile, as if trying to soften the meaning behind his words. Surely he was only teasing.
My heart fluttered in my chest and I dared another look at his face.
He was sincere. Many men in London had complimented my appearance, and I had never truly cared.
But hearing those words from James…the compliment and the look in his eyes made me strangely breathless.
For a moment I worried he would stand up again and storm out of the house like he had the week before.
I wanted to ask why he had done that, but I didn’t know how.
“Thank you,” I said finally.
He nodded, his eyes never leaving my face, and leaned toward the tea table. I watched as his hands deftly filled a cup with tea. I looked down at my hands, embarrassed. It would be strange to sit here and not drink any tea, but I feared I couldn’t pour it without spilling.
I looked around the room where everyone else was now sitting around the table. Mrs. Abbot was engaged in conversation with Lord Trowbridge, and her daughters were eagerly listening as well.
Taking a deep breath, I reached my good hand toward the tea pot, hoping my injured hand could be sufficient to steady my cup. But as my hand moved close to the handle, James stopped it with his own.
My eyes flew up to his.
“I was filling it for you,” he said. “If you’ll allow me?” He gave a half-smile—just a little quirk of his lips as he reached for the sugar pot. He added one cube to the cup before reaching for the cream. Slowly, he added three drops.
A slow melting sensation started at my head and made me weak all over. I laughed quietly as he glanced at my face for approval.
“I dare you to add a fourth drop,” I said in a quiet voice.
He smiled, placing the cup on a saucer and extending it toward me. “I would rather not be rebuked today.”
I stifled a laugh as I took the cup with my good hand. “Thank you.”
James held the saucer for me as I took a sip. “Well?” he asked expectantly.
“It is perfect.” I replaced the cup, warmth rising to my cheeks again.
I scolded myself for my reaction to his kindness.
It simply wasn’t acceptable to be so affected by a man.
I thought it would be strange to thank him again, so I smiled instead and darted my gaze away, trying to focus on Clara and Lord Trowbridge.
“Are you very fond of music?” I heard Mrs. Abbot ask Lord Trowbridge.
“Indeed, I am.” His eyes flickered to James. “He may murder me for saying so, but my brother is an impeccable musician. He is far too humble to boast of it.”
James straightened his posture, lowering his eyes. I had never seen his confidence waver like this. “My brother exaggerates.”
Lord Trowbridge shook his head. “I don’t. He has a great talent for the pianoforte. He learned to play almost entirely by ear as a child.”
A wave of shock passed through my chest. I could hardly picture James’s strong hands on the keys of a pianoforte.
Mrs. Abbot turned toward James. “Is that so? You must perform for us!”
He looked at his brother, eyes hard, but smiled. “Since I have been betrayed, I suppose I must.”