Page 74 of The Lady Glass
Theresia laughed through a hiccup.
As Lady Glass, she’d had far more than she’d appreciated.
Now she didn’t even exist.
Chapter 35
Rolland finished his brief explanationof Theresia’s role as Lady Glass, omitting any unessential details, like the vase and her history with the Roma. If she had really been a servant in Lady Caspar’s home, he would not make Theresia’s situation worse for her. “It was I who created her title and convinced her to join the house party. She has done nothing but aid us in our investigation.”
Hoping for complete understanding was beyond his expectation, but neither had he been prepared to explain himself so soon. So, of course, everyone but Marcus had an opinion about his revelation. The duke stood silently beside him, his face unreadable, while the other voices competed to be heard over each other.
“If you have not solved this crime by now, I, for one, do not think she is needed here any longer,” Lady Caspar argued.
“Of course she is needed!” his mother cried. “There is still a threat on my husband’s life!”
Lady Caspar was unconvinced. “He is protected here. Will you risk your reputation and the duke’s with this scandal under your very nose? Theresia Dvorak is a foreigner with a defiant attitude toward everything. Mark my word, she is trouble.”
“My son would never take unnecessary risks,” his father assured his mother, and Lord and Lady Caspar. “It is the duke’s choice, but if Lady Glass is as asset to the investigation, I say let her remain.”
“Mama!” Miss Shields protested, her pert nose wrinkling. “It has been years since—”
“Hush, Helena!” Lady Caspar harshly cut off her daughter. “You are to marry into this family soon, and we must avoid any prewedding catastrophes. Lord Caspar, I must insist you do something about this.”
Rolland didn’t hold his breath to hear Lord Caspar’s answer. He wanted nothing more than to let them argue it out themselves so he might hurry to Theresia’s side.
Surprisingly, Lord Caspar shrugged. “I am not happy about this, dear, but this is not our house party.”
Marcus cleared his throat. “Since it ismyhouse and my party, I must insist that Lady Glass be allowed to make her own decision. She is welcome to remain if she wishes.”
Finally, a voice of reason. Rolland owed his friend.
“I will let your decision be known.” Rolland bowed his head, partly in thanks and partly to excuse himself from the room. He was not five feet outside the library when his mother caught him by the arm. He hadn’t noticed that she’d followed him out.
“Rolland, this can’t be true.”
He dearly wanted to rush to Theresia’s side, but he reached inward for a bit more patience. “I am sorry, Mother, but we needed all the help we could get, and Lady Glass was in the right place at the right time.” He had not thought that before, but he certainly couldn’t unthink it now.
“I mean about the betrothal to Miss Shields. You don’t even know her.”
He sighed. Ever the romantic, his mother would be stuck on that part.
“Nothing has been finalized. Do not worry needlessly yet.” He would need to speak to his father immediately, but his moral compass was spinning in circles. He couldn’t let Theresia go, but neither could he so easily turn his back on his duty.
“And poor Lady Glass. I had such high hopes for her.” She shook her head.
His own hope was wavering dangerously. He had to see Theresia before another moment passed. “Don’t give up hope quite yet.” He half expected Theresia to have disappeared, despite her promise to him. “Excuse me, Mother. I will see youat dinner.”
Once upstairs and in front of Theresia’s door, he knocked three times, then nervously tapped his hand against his leg. Why wasn’t she opening the door already? He reached for the handle when the door swung open.
Lady Cadogen? Rolland blinked away his surprise. “Where is she?”
Lady Cadogen motioned behind her with her head and stepped aside for him to enter. She followed him in and shut the door behind her.
Theresia was on her knees, bent over the mysterious trunk that had arrived so conveniently the day Lady Glass had come into being. Her violin case was already inside, and she was placing a purple muslin gown beside it—the same one she’d worn that first night at Ashbury Court. She’d been breathtaking in it.
“What are you doing?” he blurted.
She avoided his gaze, but on closer inspection, he noticed the puffiness around her eyes.
