Chapter 5 #2
“Words,” he said. “Mostly. Sometimes knives.” His eyes glinted. “Now, your truth. Make it careless. As if it occurred to you just this moment.”
She searched for something small enough not to cost her.
“When people talk in crowded rooms, I imagine where they think they are instead of where they stand. It makes them… easier.”
“You replace people.”
“It passes the time.”
“It ends wars,” he said softly, as if to himself. “Tuck your hair again.”
She did. The curl disobeyed once more; it brushed her jaw and stayed.
“Much better,” he said again.
“Is the entire lesson hair?” she demanded. “I had hoped for something…”
“...complicated?” He shook his head. “There is no need. You require a few tools and practice until they are habits.” He tapped the table with two fingers.
“Also: when you are bored, say so with kindness. ‘Mr. So-and-so, you make an enemy of silence. Shall we attempt a truce?’ The brave will laugh. The dull will go away.”
She stared.
“I cannot say that.”
“You can,” he said. “If you are wearing blue.”
“Stop making colors into sermons.”
“Tell me to stop again.”
“No.”
“Excellent. Refusal looks well on you.” He sobered. “One more exercise. Pretend I have just approached you in the garden after breakfast. You were unkind to Mr. Morton this morning.”
“I was not.”
“Miss Havenford. Do you find the lake as blue as the gossip claims?” he slipped into the role with ease.
She fought a smile.
“I find the gossip exaggerates.”
“As gossip must,” he said. “What would you have it say instead?”
“I cannot say. But perhaps we are both entitled to our own opinions.”
“Keep that,” he said finally. “A suitor will feel privileged to be allowed near a truth said so calmly.”
“You are very quick to declare truths.”
“It saves time. Why fret when the alternative is much swifter?” He rose and stepped around the table to stand beside her chair. “Now, you must stand.”
She stood. The library shifted again, as if the room rearranged itself whenever he changed his mind.
He walked a slow half-circle around her.
“Chin where it is. Shoulders down.” His hand hovered an inch from her back, guiding without contact. “Weight on both feet. Ladies are taught to lean. I prefer you upright. If a man wants you near, let him come to you.”
“I would feel quite scared, as if he poses a threat.”
“An invitation,” he corrected. “Now. Look at me.”
She did. He was too close for comfort. He lifted a hand, and the air between them tightened. She tried hard to keep her breathing from coming out too hard.
“Two heartbeats,” he said quietly. “One. Two.”
“Stop counting,” she whispered.
He smiled without showing his teeth.
“Much better.”
“You say that too often.”
“It is very gratifying to be right,” he said. Yes, she had guessed as much about him already. “Ask me something you are not supposed to ask at midnight.”
She swallowed.
“Why don’t you marry?”
“Habit.”
“That is not an answer,” she frowned. “Give me a better one.”
“It is the only one that costs neither of us sleep,” he said. “Again.”
“Then, what makes you laugh when no one is watching?”
He considered.
“Stupidity that admits it is stupid. Also, when dogs sneeze.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning.
“That is unexpectedly kind.”
“I am not nearly as wicked as advertised,” he said. “Last one. Ask me what you actually wish to know.”
She did not wish to know anything. She wished to be let off the tether of his attention before she made more confessions by accident. Still, the question arrived without asking her permission.
“Are you…” She stopped. “Are you very sure you can find me a husband in a week?”
He stepped back half a pace, as if to give the question room.
“Yes,” he said. “If you do as I say.”
She tried not to be offended. What she felt instead was relief.
“And if I do as I please?”
“Then we marry on Tuesday,” he said, as pleasant as the weather. “And the lessons continue forever.”
She gasped.
“You cannot keep threatening me with marriage.”
“Call it a schedule,” he said mildly. “Now, walk.”
“Where?”
“From there to the atlas,” he said, pointing with his chin. “It is astonishing how much information a person gathers when another person moves. I shall tell you what you told me without speaking.”
She obeyed, because for some reason she wanted to impress him more than she wanted to refuse him.
She tried not to arrange her steps into something artificial. She reached the atlas and placed her hand on its corner.
“Good,” he said behind her. “You told me you own your height instead of fearing it. You told me your shoes are not suited to running.”
She looked down at the slippers Violet had insisted upon.
“They are suited to looking appropriate.”
“Your feet are not for decoration,” he said. “Tomorrow, wear shoes you can flee in, or choose not to. Choice is the point. You also told me you would like to be believed when you say something costs you courage.”
“That is a great deal to read from a walk,” she swallowed, feeling the nervousness balloon inside of her. How was he able to read her so accurately?
“You can say that I have a talent for translation,” he said. “Now, turn.”
She turned. He was close again, but he did not touch her.
“Enough for tonight,” he said at last, a little roughly, as if dismissing a willing hound. “You will go to bed and you will sleep. In the morning, you will be kind to Mr. Morton.”
“I can be kind without your permission,” she muttered.
“Prove it,” he said. “You will wear blue, and you will choose three questions and one truth. You will not check the door for escape routes more than once per minute.”
“Perhaps you are regulating me a tad too much now,” her mouth betrayed her by wanting to smile. “Don’t you think?”
“It is the foundation of charm.” He stepped around her to fetch his coat and shrugged into it. “Do not think too badly of me when I am correct.”
“I will try, but I cannot promise.”
He came back to the table for his gloves.
“One more instruction.”
She waited for him to go on, biting down on her lip.
“When you are done speaking with a man you do not desire, do not apologize for ending the conversation. Say, ‘Mr. So-and-so, you have been very kind to lend me your time. Will you forgive me for stealing it again some other day?’ Then take your leave before he answers.”
“That is manipulative,” she sighed. “I do not wish to be so. I have learned my lesson once.”
“I would not call it manipulative. Rather, it gives him dignity to take away,” he said. “Men carry so little of it gracefully. We must pack them a bit for the journey.”
“You speak as if you like them,” she challenged.
“I like many of them very much,” he said. “I am trying not to like any of them for you.”
She did not know where to put that, so she simply compartmentalized it for the moment. There was still so much that she was still learning about Stephen. He seemed to have a real knack for surprising her at every turn.
“Midnight again tomorrow?” she asked.
He opened the door for her, but did not step aside yet.
“Yes. If you do well, the lesson will be shorter.”
“What if I wish it longer?”
“Then you are learning,” he said. “That is a positive, in my opinion.”
They stood like that for a moment. He lifted a hand as if to check the curl he had freed.
“Good night, Miss Havenford.”
“Good night, Your Grace.”
She slipped into the corridor and drew the door to. For a long moment, she stood there with her palm resting against the panel, as if the wood itself might offer steadiness. Her heart was reckless and loud. She did not scold it.
Blue tomorrow, she thought, and found that the idea did, in fact, make her brave.