Page 48 of The Lady Glass
“I am.” She pushed a perfect brown curl away from her eyes. “And you? You seem distracted.”
He was. Very.
Wasn’t that what Marcus had intended? That sly man. But Rolland would stay on his guard, even if Theresia looked rather fetching with the gold ribbon she’d tied around her head. “Not at all distracted,” he lied. Marcus was not around to catch him, thank the stars. “It is you who’s missing the duke’s stories.” He pointed to Marcus, who had stopped to explain the origin of a sizable marble bust of the Greek goddess Athena.
Marcus was a proficient tour guide and lived up to Her Grace’s estimation of his ability to entertain them. Always the researcher, Marcus knew historical bits about the house that probably the last five dukes preceding him had been oblivious to.
They made their way through the gallery room and moved to the ballroom. Marcus pointed out a comical error in a painting in which a cherub looked like it had two heads.
“In case you were wondering,” Theresia whispered to Rolland, “Mr. Stewart failed to murder me in my bed last night.”
“What a shame.” Rolland kept his attention on the painting when it was their turn to pass. He waited a beat before clarifying. “A shame we did not discover the perpetrator, of course. Not a shame that your death was avoided.”
Theresia glared at him. His teasing words were intended to rile her, lest she catch on to what he was feeling, and it seemed to work.
“I thoroughly enjoyed Mr. Stewart’s book recommendation, if you’re at all curious to know. I am very glad I chosehimto selectsomething for me. I fear you would’ve produced only depressing literature or, worse, made me study maps and wind courses.”
“I do know a good resource for each, so you’re probably right.”
A brow rose, as if acknowledging that she hadn’t provokedhimenough. “With you, I usually am.”
He almost smiled at that. Almost.
They moved to the conservatory, where Her Grace had several easels set up and more than one painting started. Compliments poured from everyone’s lips. The duchess had exceptional talent. When the others filed out of the room, Rolland pointed to the first painting. “It’s the perfect likeness of Ashbury Court. What do you think, Lady Glass?” It was then that he noticed Theresia was no longer beside him. He turned to see her looking behind a flowering bush. “You’re not being obvious at all.”
She straightened suddenly, brushing the folds of her gown. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Your vase isn’t going to be in here.”
“Shh! Someone will hear you.”
“Or see you. It is plain you’re searching for something.”
“How can I not?” she hissed. “I must take every opportunity gifted me. You cannot know”—she lowered her voice—“you cannot know what it means to me, or you would not stop me.”
“I’m not stopping you,” he said with a shrug. “I’m trying to tell you to be a bit more subtle.”
A sheepish gaze stole over her features, but it passed quickly. She folded her arms across her chest and stared him down. “Very well, then. Help me.”
Rolland shook his head but did as she asked. Despite all his reservations about his feelings, he did want her to find her vase. He was still certain it was tied to the same man they were searching for. It took only an extra minute or so to look behind the potted plants.
Theresia sighed when they finished. “I feel better for havingtried, albeit a mite disappointed. It could be anywhere, and the new rooms to explore made me too hopeful.” She leaned against the doorframe, effectively blocking their exit.
When her eyes rested on him, her expression was unguarded. In a breath’s time her discouragement faded. A flash of gratitude, appreciation, and something more—something akin to interest, sparked in her gaze. Or was he only projecting his own confusing feelings onto her? No... he didn’t think so.
“But never mind our search,” she said. “This tour has my complete attention now, I assure you.”
“Really? Your complete attention?” Did she realize that everyone else had left the room? He wanted to step closer to her to give her a better view of whatever she found so interesting in his face.
“Really.”
He lowered his voice. “Then, why are you staring at me instead of following the others?”
She flushed, her cheeks taking on a most becoming pink, and her eyes startling. “Because... because I was giving you an opportunity to act as a gentleman and offer me... your... arm.”
“My arm?” He chuckled and held it out for her. “Will this suffice?”
She took it with some reluctance, clearly embarrassed. He, on the other hand, enjoyed knowing something about him affected her. The feel of her hand on his arm brought with it a sense of rightness, even if she kept her body as far away from him as possible without breaking the connection. She was making a point, but he saw right through it and silently chuckled. Even touring familiar rooms was an adventure with this one.
