Page 7 of The Lady Glass
Sorrow lanced her chest, but instead of tears falling, her eyes narrowed. Lady Caspar had guessed why Theresia had returned home and had likely convinced that strange man to come back for it sooner.
She whispered a silent plea heavenward, despair threateningto overtake her. Each breath was harder than the last. Was she to cast away the minute freedom gained by leaving the seminary and turn her life story over to Lady Caspar to write once again?
No. She couldn’t do that. She wouldn’t!
A footman came out of Lady Caspar’s room, carrying a trunk; his light coloring reminding her of a childhood friend.
“Johan?” The name slipped from her lips before she could remember propriety.
Round blue eyes she would know anywhere locked with hers over his load. “Pardon, miss?”
“It’s me, Theresia! Do you not remember?”
His thick blond brows leaped up, and a grin lit his face. “Theresia Dvorak? Home at last?”
Her own smile, heavy with the burden she carried, pulled crookedly across her face. “Cousin, it is so good to see you again!” They weren’t true cousins but had been raised as such. Sadly, Johan’s own father had died shortly after arriving in London, and his family had fallen on hard times. Papa had tried to look after them, but he had not lived long himself. Seeing Johan again wouldn’t undo the pain of losing her vase, but it was a gift in and of itself. “But wait, what are you doing here?”
“Earning a little money. What else?”
His carefree spirit hadn’t changed. How she wished she could say the same for herself. She’d buried her vivacious spirit years ago and tried to be everything to please her stepmother so she could come home again. “I was beginning to think Lady Caspar despised any connection to Papa, including the help, and turned them out of the house. I am glad to see I was wrong.”
Johan’s grin faltered. “Ano, she does.” The simple use of the Bohemian word foryesdid not slip past Theresia, though the language was nearly lost to her. German and now English were far more familiar now. “The butler who replaced Mr. Guiss is sympathetic to the old employees,” Johan continued. “He alwaysreaches out to Mama. Apparently Lady Caspar took some of the staff with her on her trip, leaving the house short-staffed, so I have been temporarily employed here just for today. But you cannot think I am just a footman. Believe it or not, your cousin is a renowned musician now.”
“Renowned?” Watching Johan’s violin lessons as a girl had been what had first sparked Theresia’s own love for the instrument. Despite her father’s insistence that she focus on her piano lessons, she’d become obsessed with mastering the violin. The two had been tutored together for long hours every day before they had migrated to England with several families. But while she was well aware of Johan’s talent, he could hardly be famous if he was working as a footman between jobs.
He shifted the load in his hands. “Ano, I travel all over to grand houses, and my violin supports me and my new wife.”
How wonderful to hear that he was married! She was so happy for him. But a musician? His jobs couldn’t pay well, despite what he said.
“Do not look so sad for me. I am very good at what I do. The English music is not so hard to learn. And I am not so poor that I cannot help my friend. You let me know if you need anything at all.”
Was this the heaven-sent opportunity she must seize? She’d hardly expected a prince or a handsome knight, but could her poor cousin offer her anything? She desperately needed help from someone, and who else could she trust? She clenched her fists. “How good are you at evading housekeepers?”
“What?” The trunk lowered in his arms, and for a moment, she thought he would drop it.
“I find I am eager to take you up on your offer of assistance.” Poor Johan. He likely remembered her as a sweet little girl who would never try to run away to a house party uninvited. But somewhere along the line, she had been forced to exchangekindness for determination, and nothing would stop her from getting her vase back.
Chapter 4
Every member of the tonfor miles had accepted the invitation on short notice to attend the newest Duke of Westmorland’s first ball. Rolland wished he could’ve rejected his own invitation. He detested the stuffy, smothering crush of a ballroom, and he had no great love for dancing—even if the music was exceptional tonight. How was he supposed to catch a traitor when the matrons of eligible daughters thought he needed to promenade through every set? The candlelit chandeliers and elegant trimmings might dazzle everyone else, but he’d rather be sailing on turbulent seas than paying court to coquettish females.
It had been far too long since he’d mingled with proper Society, and it was nothing like the purposeful hours he’d spent with his crewmen. Regardless of his blundering words and missteps on the dance floor, women seemed to care only that he was a young captain home from war, with an abundance of prize money and a title to inherit. He’d never regretted wearing his uniform before, but he did now. He scanned the room brimming with finely dressed guests to reassure himself that his father was still being carefully guarded, but his mother captured his attention first.
She was weaving through the masses toward him with yet another young woman in tow. There was only one path to the door, and he took it. He was no coward in war, but in the ballroom, there was no other word for it.
His father waylaid him just outside the drawing room door, without a trace of shame for having escaped his guard. “Walk with me.” In an old habit, he smoothed down the dark hair at the back of his head that had matched Rolland’s in color until it had started to pepper with gray, before clasping his hands behind his back.
“Shall we slip outside?” Rolland glanced at the front door not twenty paces away, longing for the fresh air on the other side.
“To the library.”
Rolland was a few inches taller than his father and had achieved the respect of many, but that didn’t negate the singular air of his father’s parental authority. With a sigh and a nod, he ignored his route of escape and followed his father obediently down the corridor toward the front of the house.
“You’ve had a few days here. How are you settling in?”
Rolland glanced over at his father, wondering how to answer. There was no use discussing the frustratingly slow healing of his injury or his pathetic reason for escaping the ballroom, so it was best to settle on a safe answer. “It’s always good to see you and mother again.”
“Even if your mother is introducing you to every unattached young lady present tonight?”
