Page 92 of The Lady Glass
“Then, I will bid them good night.”
“Rolland . . .”
Her voice held censure, but he wasn’t letting go and neither was she. He led her down the stairs and slipped into the blessedly empty library. Mr. Hobson had taken up guard by the front door, so Rolland turned to the butler. “Do me a favor and don’t let anyone in here for a bit.”
Mr. Hobson grinned and nodded.
Rolland shut the door behind them and turned to find a surprised Theresia facing him, with the hearth just behind her.
“Should you be closing that?” she asked.
He laughed. “Isn’t a library by the front door far safer than themany bedchambers we’ve been alone in?”
“Yes, but you never had that look in your eye that you do now.” She tucked her hands behind her back and adopted an adorable sheepish expression.
“What sort of look is that?” His feet moved with purpose, closing the gap between them.
“The kind that could devour a woman.” She bit back her smile, but it slipped through anyway.
“Just a taste for now.” He lowered his head toward her.
She put her hand up, covering his mouth. “You’re engaged, Rolland.”
He pulled her hand down. “I hope so.”
She scowled and pushed against him.
He caught her hands, holding them to his chest. “I hope to be engaged to you.”
Her eyes widened. How could she be surprised? He’d kissed her twice now. “I couldn’t go through with marrying Miss Shields. I couldn’t let them make the announcement, not tonight or ever. My father and Lord Caspar are upset, and I am sorry if I’ve hurt Miss Shields, but God has other plans for me. He sent a Bohemian violinist through my window and into my heart.”
Theresia’s rigid posture relaxed. “You tackled me.”
He laughed. “I most certainly did.” He lifted his hand and tucked back a curl that the maid had not quite secured in her hurry. “Theresia, don’t you know how I feel about you?”
Her cheeks darkened, and she shook her head. Her dazzling amber eyes connected with his, and he could see the vulnerability staring back at him. “I know you gave yourself to the war and to the sea. Mr. Lewis told me about how your uncle’s death affected you. He said it broke you. It seems like a great deal to ask for even a corner of your heart after all you’ve endured.”
“I’d never had anyone close to me die before. The loss of myuncle was the first of many. So many I cannot count them. I was afraid to attach myself to anyone, and my willpower was only strengthened when I felt my sacrifice justified. I hardened myself in my grief, and I was certain I had conquered every weakness and longing for companionship.”
Theresia set her hand on his chest. “So you swore to give yourself to an honorable cause.”
“I did.” He wasn’t good with words, but he wanted her to know exactly how he felt. “I ignored the unsettling feelings that told me such a choice was not meant to be. Until I met you.” He encircled her neck with his hand, rubbing the smooth skin with his thumb. “No matter the years I spent fortifying my defenses, one minute in your company and my resolve began to crumble. The risk of losing you is worth any chance I have to be at your side. Every minute, every hour, is better with you in it. I love you, Theresia.” Her eyes warmed at his words—words he promised himself he would say every day for the rest of their lives, should she accept him. “I’m offering you all my heart, if you want it.”
She bit her lip, and her gaze went to his cravat. His stomach dropped. Was she trying to make him nervous? “I do, desperately, but what about your father’s blessing?”
This he could answer easily. “You can be a Roma, a maid, or a spy named Lady Glass, but the title I hope you choose is Mrs. Rolland Reese. I’m not losing you again, and my father will have to accept that.”
She grinned. “I like that title best too. My week as a Roma taught me to value home more, and I do not regret my time there. But you can reference Mr. Plasil’s good name if my connections will soften your father. And I wasn’t treated well at the seminary, but I wasn’t a servant, like my stepmother suggested.
He braced his hands on her arms to contain his shock. “Wait. Stepmother?”
“Yes, though neither of us would call each other family any longer. Not after she sold my vase to Mr. Lewis without my permission.”
“Let me clarify. Lady Caspar is your stepmother, andshesold your vase?”
“My dowry.”
“But why? There was no way she required the money, so what was her motive?”
