Page 65 of An Honorable Deception
They didn’t note things to her satisfaction, though. Theylaughed when she said so—they weretheirfiles, after all—but they also stepped out of her way and let her go about her business. Gemma had even given her additions and changes a nod of literary approval.
And no doubt everyone was happier this way. With Lavinia tucked up here out of the way, it meant Marigold was free to dote on her husband. Gemma was free to try to turn last night’s dinner into something that sounded like a planned, well-attended event for her column. And Yates was free to spend his time teasing a laugh from Alethia while Xavier scowled on. Lady Barremore, seeing two of the most eligible bachelors in England competing for her daughter’s attention, seemed to forget for days at a time that they were there for less-than-delightful reasons.
Lavinia rubbed absently at her thigh. She’d strained something a bit during her time in the gymnasium that morning, but she hadn’t wanted to ask if she ought to do something other than stretch to relieve it. She’d taken to rising earlier than either of the Fairfax siblings so that she could go through her routine before they joined her, timing it so that they merely passed on the path from house to outbuilding.
That made it easy to smile, look away, and keep her distance. They didn’t have to wonder if she was keeping up her strength training. She didn’t have to watch Yates chisel the next layer into his perfection and parry Marigold’s hawklike gaze if she looked too long. She didn’t have to either feel guilty over laughing at his teasing or sorrowful when he didn’t offer any.
In the study, the lines were more clearly drawn. Every jest was about her notetaking or recordkeeping. Or her deep pockets. She knew Yates didn’tliketaking her money. But this mission was too important for his pride to get in the way. And while she had both necklace and bracelet that she’dtried to give away back in her possession, she knew that Barclay, Lucy, and the rest still had to eat, and they were currently spending all their time and efforts on this surveillance job.
Outside, the gentlemen were playing a game of football, now that they had Graham to even out the numbers. It was he and Yates against Merritt and Xavier, it looked like. He kicked the ball into the makeshift goal as she watched, and applause and cheering broke out from the patio, where Marigold, Alethia, Gemma, and Lady Barremore must be watching.
Last year, she’d sat in that very spot with Marigold and Gemma and Claudia—her mother’s companion, who had come with her as chaperone. Last spring, Marigold hadn’t minded when Lavinia commented on what fine specimens the gentlemen were as they darted about the improvised football pitch. She could flirt with Yates, and Marigold would have thought it was to make Xavier jealous.
Had it been? She didn’t know anymore. But she didn’t think so. Xavier had been, at the time, someone new. Someone who had the potential to take her away from here, from the secrets she was beginning to discover about her mother. There had been allure in that, and Xavier had been pleasant company.
But she’d teased Yates because she’d wanted to see the flash of his smile. She’d twined her arm through his and skipped with him to the stables because he’d made her feel like no one else ever could, like she was the person she wanted to be. Someone bright and full of life and happy.
She watched the game for another minute, until Merritt evened the score, and then she turned back to the files.
Zelda stood in the doorway, a tea tray in hand and a soft smile on her face.
Lavinia’s throat went inexplicably tight. “Zelda, you don’t have to do this. I told you yesterday.”
“You work too hard.” She moved into the room and slid the tray onto the empty desk. “Eat too little. Spend too much time up here alone.” Not in the habit of brooking arguments, Zelda poured a cup of tea and put a cake on a plate. “You look as though a stiff wind could blow you out to sea.”
She felt like it, too, most of the time. But it had nothing to do with how much she ate. “Well. Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”
Zelda gusted out a breath—a fair warning that Lavinia should brace herself, though she didn’t know for what. She’d known this woman all her life, but not like Yates and Marigold did. She’d been Zelda, performer and novelty. Then Zelda, not-quite servant. Zelda, secret seamstress who made Marigold’s every jaw-dropping ensemble.
Never before Zelda,herfriend.Hercaregiver.Herlecturer.
The older woman sat on the leather sofa pushed back against the bookcases and patted the cushion beside her.
Lavinia hesitated a moment. Not because of any objection to sitting beside a Romani, not at this point in her life. Only because she didn’t know if her heart could take either kindness or chiding right now. And Zelda was sure to offer one or the other. Or both.
But her feet obeyed the command anyway, and she took a seat beside her.
Zelda reached for her hand. “I will say this once. And then I will seal my lips. Who am I to interfere in such things?”
Lavinia moved her gaze slowly from their hands with their contrasting tones up to the beautifully lined face.
Zelda met her gaze when Lavinia’s lifted, held it securely. “Fight for your man.”
Lavinia looked away again. “I don’t have one.”
“Rubbish. That boy’s heart has been yours since the day he offered you a flower when you were three years old and you put it in your hair like it was a crown and kissed him on the cheek.”
Tears flooded her eyes. She blinked them back. She had no memory of such an exchange, but Zelda wouldn’t make up such a story. “I ruined it. Years ago.”
“You let your mother’s opinions frighten you.” The strong fingers squeezed hers. “We all let fears, even borrowed fears, hold us back from time to time. But that doesn’t mean we can’t break free.” She paused, leaning forward in a clear bid to catch Lavinia’s gaze. “Why, do you think, knowing what you know of her now, that she thought what she did of our boy?”
She wanted to ask how Zelda even knew about that—any of it. But she knew even that was her fault. Back then, Zelda had been almost invisible to her. Who knew what she or her mother had said in her presence, not even pausing to wonder if anyone could overhear?
And the question was enough to ponder. Her brows drew together as she remembered her mother’s sneer, the way she dismissed Yates so thoroughly. Insulted him so fully.
But never in Papa’s hearing, because Papa adored Yates. Said he was the finest young man he’d ever met and hinted none too subtly that a match between their families would be well received on his part.
Mother never liked that. She always got that pinched look around her eyes and offered a tight smile and said something about not limiting their darling daughter to a neighbor, that there was a whole host of young men out there who might provide the perfect match.
