Chapter 12 #2
“The book has overlooked several practical matters,” Ronan replied, holding the page open with one hand. “Someone must pay for the musicians, the candles, and the damages caused by an entire kingdom attempting to dance at once.”
“It is a fairy tale,” Augusta said. “No one is interested in the accounts.”
Of course he would interpret a fairy tale like that.
“The person responsible for the palace accounts would be very interested,” he shrugged his shoulders.
Sarah leaned closer to him, laughing as Ronan continued to explain that Cinderella’s glass slippers were unsuitable for dancing and that any sensible prince would have asked her name before allowing her to disappear.
“You are ruining the romance,” Augusta said. “He finds her again.”
“After searching the entire kingdom with a shoe, which could have been avoided through one ordinary conversation.”
Sarah laughed so hard that she dropped the sugared almond she had been holding, and when Ronan finally reached the scene where the slipper fitted Cinderella, he announced that the prince had at last completed the most inefficient courtship in recorded history.
Sarah scrambled across the small distance between them and threw her arms around him.
The movement caught Ronan completely unprepared.
For an instant, he remained rigid, while his hands hovered uncertainly at either side of the child. Then he wrapped both arms around her and drew her against his chest.
The change in him was so complete that Augusta forgot to look away.
His shoulders lowered, his expression softened, and the strain that usually seemed fixed around his mouth disappeared. He rested his cheek briefly against Sarah’s hair, while the girl remained curled against him and continued laughing into his shirt.
“You made the story silly,” Sarah said.
“The story was already silly,” Ronan replied, although his hand moved gently over her back.
“I like it when you read.”
Ronan became still again, but he did not release her. “Then I will read another,” he said.
Sarah shifted until she was sitting in his lap, and Ronan adjusted her carefully so that her head rested against his shoulder.
Augusta handed him the next book without comment, although her heart had begun beating faster as she watched him turn the pages with one hand while the other remained securely around his daughter.
The second story was quieter, and Sarah’s laughter gradually faded into long, sleepy breaths. Ronan continued reading even after her eyes closed, his voice dropping lower as the fire settled behind them.
When he reached the end of the story, he looked down.
“She is asleep,” he said.
Augusta smiled. “She has been asleep for several pages.”
“Why did you not stop me?”
“You seemed to be enjoying yourself.”
Ronan closed the book and sighed to himself.
“I suppose that took a lot more effort than I expected it to,” he nodded. “But she appeared happy at the end of it, which is what matters the most.”
His gaze met hers over Sarah’s head, and Augusta’s heartbeat quickened again.
Ronan did not answer, although his arm tightened slightly around the sleeping child.
The room became quiet, and Augusta suddenly did not know what to say. The plates of sweets remained half-finished beside them, and the fire made soft sounds in the grate, while Ronan sat close enough that she could see the dark shadow of hair beneath the open collar of his shirt.
Her eyes returned to the small triangle of skin at his throat, and she looked away at once.
“I spoke to the constable,” Ronan said.
Augusta turned towards him. “When?”
“This morning,” he replied, keeping his voice low so that Sarah would not wake. “Gregory was with me, and we asked whether the investigation had produced anything that had not appeared in the papers.”
Augusta shifted closer without thinking.
“What did he say?”
“Very little,” Ronan replied. “There has been no progress, and they have not identified the man you saw. They did confirm that the woman worked for Phillipa’s family, and she had been a maid in the household for more than twenty years.”
Augusta’s expression tightened. “She worked there for twenty years?”
“More than twenty,” Ronan said. “I asked whether anyone had seen her speaking to men outside the household, although no one appears to have noticed anything of the sort. She was an older woman, and nothing they learned from the servants has given them a direction for the inquiry.”
Augusta looked towards the fire.
“That seems strange,” she said. “A person does not work in a household for so long without being known, and yet no one can offer any reason why she would have been outside or why someone would wish to harm her.”
“I thought the same,” Ronan replied. “Still, the constable had nothing else he was willing to state as fact.”
“You asked about the men she spoke to?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Ronan’s expression remained controlled, although Augusta saw a flicker of hesitation.
“You saw a man standing near her body,” he said. “It seemed reasonable to ask whether she had been seen with anyone unfamiliar.”
Augusta watched him for a moment.
“You arranged the meeting on account of what I told you.”
“I was accused of murder.”
“You had already been cleared.”
“The crime remains unresolved, and this is the only answer I am giving.”
Augusta wanted to press him, although Sarah shifted in his arms, and Ronan looked down immediately to make certain she had not woken.
The tenderness in the movement stole the argument from Augusta. “Thank you,” she said quietly.
Ronan looked back at her. “There is nothing to thank me for.”
“You noticed that I was worried, and you asked. It is not a small thing for me.”
“I wanted to know the truth.”
Augusta smiled faintly. “You may call it whatever you like.”
Ronan appeared ready to object, then he let the matter rest. Silence returned, and Augusta remembered the invitation she had intended to mention before the evening ended.
“Temperance is arranging a ball,” she said. “Charity told me about it when I visited, and I said I would attend.”
Ronan’s brows drew together slightly.
“When?”
“Next week.”
“And you have already accepted?”
“Yes,” Augusta replied. “Temperance is a friend, and I have been absent from society since the wedding, so remaining hidden at Ravenhill would only encourage further gossip.”
“I thought you disliked gossip.”