Page 22 of The Lady Glass
She speared him with a glare. “Only my entire life.” And then she remembered that she wanted his help and had only managed to undo all her efforts to appear demure and sufficiently humbled. She took his all too capable hand and felt herself propelled inside. The man did not know his own strength.
She settled into the comfortable carriage and watched the captain do the same across from her.
“Miss Smith? Is that your true name? I have a hard time believing half of what you tell me.”
It was time to start apologizing. “You are right to wonder. Theresia is my true name, but Smith is not. However, under the circumstances, I feel more comfortable being addressed so. As for what happened earlier, I am well aware you are appalled by my behavior. I shudder to think of the things I said.” She touched her forehead and gave an exaggerated wince. She was being completely honest about her embarrassment, but she had to make certain he knew it. “I am desperate, Captain. Nothing else matters to me if I cannot retrieve what is mine.”
He studied her for several long minutes, with the only soundbeing the conveyance’s wheels grinding against the road. Would he forgive her? Or was he planning on taking her to some dark corner of the world where he would get rid of her forever?
“I will refer to you as Miss Theresia for now.”
She exhaled.For nowmeant he planned to converse with her again. And if he was calling her Theresia, he wanted to be friends. “Very well, and I will call you Captain Rolland.”
He scowled. “Captain Reese. You do not have permission to call me by my given name.”
Her jaw dropped. “But you can call me Theresia? How terribly one-sided of you.”
When he nodded, she crossed her arms. There was something about his sternness that made her want to best him—to prove that he did not have the upper hand in the situation. And she would prove it by calling him Rolland. No lessons from Mrs. Stone about proper address would change her mind.
“At least assure me you are taking me home.”
He smirked—the closest thing she’d ever seen to a smile. “Did you think I was taking you all the way to the port to put you in some ship’s hold?”
She squirmed. “The thought might have crossed my mind. After all, I did make a scene in front of your friends.”
“You mean, when you pretended to be my lover?” He shook his head. “And yet you claim to be a proper lady?”
The wordlovermade her gasp. “I pretended to hold your affection and nothing more. I wanted them to think I was delivering a love note so they would not question the contents. I realize it was not ideal, but it was the best I could come up with in the moment.”
“You are a good actress but also naive to the ways of the world. If you think your innocent intentions were applied in any other way, you are fooling yourself. I can see why you refuse to give anyone your name.”
“Your insinuations are maddening. Mrs. Stone warned us against the dark minds of men. I should have listened.”
“Who is Mrs. Stone?”
Drat. She shouldn’t have brought up any connection to her real life. For so long, she had schooled her temper, but with Rolland, she could hide nothing. She forced the calm, collected face she had perfected over the years. “She is the headmistress of a seminary I attended, if you must know.”
He stared at her as if trying to take her measure—Roma or lady? Let him wonder.
A scowl melded over his mouth. “Perhaps you should have attended a few years more.”
She gaped. It might be a valid response, considering her reckless behavior, but he would never believe the number of years she had actually attended. It wasfarmore than most. Still, his criticism hit a sensitive note since she was fighting to hide the shame behind her decisions. She composed her expression once more, but her tongue took on a life of its own. “Perhaps you should have been at sea a few years less.”
His brow quirked. “Really?”
“Your manners have clearly suffered,Rolland.” She cringed at her forwardness. The new brave and direct hercoulduse some refining.
His lips twitched, fighting a smile, and at least there she found some satisfaction. She had nearly cracked his somber demeanor.
As if sensing her reaction to his own, his glimpse of a smile disappeared. “Forgive me. I have never met a woman like yourself. Can I even presume you are staying with the Roma? Or is there some fine manor home I am to return you to?”
Her cheeks burned at the mention of living with the Roma. She could hardly believe it herself. “To the Roma camp, if you please. I have friends there.” Let him think what he wanted about her temporary home; she would not be in England much longer, Godwilling.
“Good,” he said. “Stay with your friends, and do not think of returning to the duke’s house again.”
“But my vase—”
“Your vase?”
