Page 47 of An Unwitting Alliance
The song did not match the country reel in tune or rhythm, but Tom kept at it.
“The Vails are fun, this book is slipping, but I doit for you and you and you.”
Tom linked arms with Cassandra for the third time, and this time he just kept spinning her. At the same time, Megan increased the tempo to a ridiculous speed.
Cassandra laughed as senselessly as Robert, who was practically shrieking with glee.
“This pretty girl cannot be fooled, but I spin her around for me and me and me.” Tom tripped over his own foot, and the book went flying. He caught Cassandra to him just as Robert bowled into them. She tripped Michael in the process, and they all fell in a heap onto the sofa, laughing.
Tom’s beard fell back, and Michael yelled, “I knew it, I knew it!” over and over again.
Tom just laughed and seemed not in the least hurried to release Cassandra. His eyes danced with mirth as they held her gaze. While the weight of the boys was not slight, she longed to lace her arms around Tom’s neck and forget all the worry and loneliness of their day without him.
Just as she began to relax into him, her head falling against his chest, Aunt Evans rushed into the room, her hair flying from its pins. “What on earth is going on in here?”
All at once the boys rolled off them, and Cassandra followed.
“Forgive me, Auntie.” Tom clamored to his feet. “I take complete blame.”
Somehow his charm worked on Aunt Evans much like it did on Cassandra’s parents, and Aunt batted this new apology away with a wave of her hand. Still, the impromptu party was over. Aunt Evans rushed the boys to bed while complaining loudly to them of coming to visit a barn of animals instead of a house with children. Of course, Tom escaped any form of chastisement, his demeanor deceptively close to that of a sweet andnormalgentleman.
Megan said good night, and Cassandra and Tom were only a few steps behind her. Cassandra paused just inside the drawing room door. She couldn’t go to bed. Not yet.
She turned suddenly to face Tom. “That was remarkable.”
He stopped beside her inside the doorframe and lowered his head while cupping his ear. “What was that, mia cara?”
She batted his shoulder. “Don’t make me say it twice.” She leaned her back against the wood opposite him, giving herself a few more inches of space from him. “Though, your dancing skills leave much to be desired. You have not shown any sign of improvement since Lady Kellen’s ball.”
He grinned. “I notice you have not volunteered to practice with me.”
“I am afraid for my ankle.”
His eyes gleamed. “Perhaps if I found a collection of dead bugs for you, you would reconsider.”
A tart berry could not have made her face scrunch up tighter. “Must you remember everything about that horrid letter?”
He gave her a grave nod. “Every line is engraved in my mind and heart.”
He shifted, and she noticed a long hair on his cheek that matched his fake beard. She reached up and plucked it away, shocked at her own audacity. Her stomach tightened in a pointless attempt to shush her beating heart, but it pounded all the more when she met his softened gaze. She had to say something to prove she was not as flustered as she felt. “H-how did you have time to plan all this? Are you not exhausted from your trip?”
“I am exhausted, but it’s from dancing with a book under my chin. Who thought of that terrible idea?”
“Signore Master People Juggler.”
Amusement flickered across his face, easing some of the tension bouncing between them. “It was worth the chin fatigue.”
She shook her head. He was impossible. “Thank you for your sacrifice on our behalf.” She started to withdraw, then stopped and leaned back again. “Oh, did you learn all you wanted today?”
His nod was grave. “I learned that workhouses are humbling places, no matter their conditions. I saw a better menu with more variety and more food in general. I learned they are having weekly church services, and most of all, I learned about the importance of electing parish vestries who can oversee the workhouse’s performance and the workers’ needs.”
He surprised her. He was intelligent and far more observant than she gave him credit for. But how could she have so completely underestimated the depths of his heart? “It appears you had a full day.”
“Indeed.” He too relaxed his back against the doorframe, one of his feet stretching forward, almost touching her own shoe. “And I am quite certain a theory Mr. Miner shared with me about a possible misuse of parish funds is correct. I am beginning to wonder if Mr. Longbottom, the overseer in Airewell, is pocketing the difference. But how to prove it? Having an accountability system in place will be crucial to the success of the place. I wish Fisher were here to aid me, but he is still on his wedding trip.”
“Fisher?”
“His real name is Paul Sheldon, and he is a most capable barrister.”
