Chapter 25

Rolland made it all the way to the house, cursed under his breath, and whirled back around. No amount of reasoning could talk him down. Once he separated Lewis and Theresia, he could think and act like a normal human being again.

Not that Theresia wasn't perfectly safe with his friend. Lewis was a flirt, not a womanizer. No, it was Lewis who was in danger. Rolland wasn't the jealous type, but where Theresia was concerned, there was no expecting him to have a rational mindset. After a few minutes of wide strides, he knew he had to be close. Pushing through the trees to avoid the picnickers, he finally came up behind Theresia and Lewis. At the sight of them, he hesitated. What was his strategy?

This wasn't a decision to marry her or anything life changing, so he couldn't barge in like some crazed lunatic. All he wanted was to be the one to walk beside her and ease her anxiety. Lewis was probably spilling useless tales about treasure and making things far worse anyway. His plan would be simple: get rid of Lewis.

"Lewis!" he called without another moment's hesitation.

Lewis turned back and smiled. "Did you get lonely without us?"

"Very," he growled under his breath. "I didn't have it in me to save Miss Yearsley from Lord Vernon. I'm requesting your help."

"And you'll accompany Lady Glass in my place?" Lewis's knowing grin only irked Rolland more.

"Naturally." He avoided Theresia's gaze until Lewis acquiesced and retreated. Once he disappeared through the trees, Rolland swung his head toward her.

She was studying him, her face impassive.

He hadn't thought through the next part of his strategy and didn't know how to explain. He cleared his throat. "Was Lewis bothering you?"

"On the contrary. I found his presence comforting."

Comforting? "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly that."

Rolland put a hand on his hip and narrowed his brow. "How exactly was he comforting you?"

"You sound like Mrs. Bedrich. We were just talking. After last night and then the mention of glassblowers just now, I needed a distraction."

He should have been appeased, but she seemed far too content with the situation for his liking.

Theresia put her hand on her chin while she examined him. "I know you're protective, but there is no need to save me from your friend. Don't you trust Mr. Lewis?"

"With my life."

She dropped her hand. "But you don't trust him with me?"

There was no reason to lie. "Apparently not."

"I don't quite understand. Are you angry with me, then, or him?"

Rolland was suddenly conscious of how fierce his position seemed and forced his shoulders to relax and his hands to lay flat at his sides. "Not angry at all." He glanced away and phrased his next words carefully. "I was merely worried about you. I thought if Lewis left, we could speak freely."

"Then, proceed." She took a step closer. "Speak freely."

The light filtered through the trees and illuminated her in a hazy glow. There was no looking away now. Nor did he want to speak at all. He wanted to close the space between them and kiss her.

He stepped back, surprised by the force of his feelings. "How about a walk instead?" He pointed to the dirt path through trees and overgrown blackberry bushes. He needed to move, not think.

When she fell into step with him, he kept his eyes on the ground ahead. "I noticed you caught Miss Yearsley's confession about her obsession with crystal," he said. "What do you think about her colluding with Mr. Hawke? I know it sounds farfetched, but she makes a point to ignore him in every situation. I didn't think anything of it before, but every angle must be considered. What if Mr. Hawke gave the vase to Miss Yearsley to win her over? He has foreign connections and has possibly accepted bribes. We hope the men at the Home Office will be able to trace the money past the banks soon. We need to monitor them both closely. We might have found our man and possibly his accomplice."

He finally risked a glance at Theresia. She tipped her chin up and examined him. The angle of her head nearly undid him. "I hope you're right," she said. "I sincerely do. But will you humor me and tell me what you're really thinking about? And don't say it was to speak of the investigation when you could easily have found His Grace or that you simply came to check on me when you said yourself that I was perfectly safe with Mr. Lewis. There's something else bothering you; I can tell."

"You don't want to hear it."

"I don't?"

He frowned, grinding his teeth in an effort to root himself. "I rarely struggle with indecision, and I don't want you caught in the cross fire of my war of thoughts."

"A war of thoughts sounds formidable. Does it involve me?"

He continued forward, his body as conflicted as his mind. "Nothing involving you could be very bad."

"If only that were true." She stepped into pace with him, but her gaze dropped to the short carpet of green growth at their feet. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

When she looked up, the bravery in her eyes impressed him. He thought desperately about something else to say. Anything to stall his confession. "I'm confused, nothing more. And you just so happen to be in the middle of it. Mrs. Bedrich made me responsible for you."

"I recall you volunteering to watch over me."

He smirked. "Perhaps I did volunteer. It sounds like me."

"Some responsibilities are optional. Saying no does not mean you are doing less good in the world but maybe doing better at the most important things right in front of you."

"What would you have me shirk? Watching over my father or you?"

She scrunched up her nose and made a face, showing him exactly what she thought of his teasing. "You can't carry it all, Rolland. It's not possible. You have a duty to the navy, to keeping your father safe, to pleasing your mother, to finding my vase... you've even promised to marry someone of your father's choice."

He stared at her for a moment, not ready to speak about the last part of her list. "None of those sound so wholly bad."

"Not any of them? Would you sacrifice your own feelings to marry someone else just to please your father?"

Rolland coughed into his fist, and could she blame him? She had forced a topic that made them both squirm. But she had a right to know, didn't she? They'd been tiptoeing around it since he'd brought it up at Rose Cottage. When he had brought it up the day before in the secret passage, he had felt her tense beneath his hand. "It will be a political marriage—one that will be important to not just England but potentially the entire Western world."

"Only half the world?" Theresia blinked, her sarcasm thick. "Do you really think one marriage would do so much?"

What did she want him to say? That he was beginning to regret it? That what once was an easy decision was now a great sacrifice? Perhaps if she knew why he was doing it, she'd understand. "One marriage can lead to a stronger British front when the committee presents at the Congress of Vienna. Boundary lines between countries will be changed, powers divided. One union could mean nothing, or it could mean everything. You're right that it's impossible to shoulder it all, but there has to be some good in the effort. The ripples from one small splash can be far-reaching."

She stared at him, her eyes filling with compassion. "Rolland..."

It shouldn't bring him such pleasure when she said his given name, or that she cared so deeply. The longing to take back his commitments only heightened. He forced a less serious expression. "It's not so bad. Look at me. I'm not suffering."

She shook her head. "I understand better now, I think, but I worry for you. Without Granger to fuss over you, I doubt your shoulder would receive any attention at all. Have you ever made yourself a priority? Because I know you could help others better if you did."

"Did you learn this at Mrs. Stone's Seminary?"

"I learned it by watching you."

He put his hands behind his back and clasped them together. "You mean you learned this by watching me perform poorly? I'm touched."

She laughed softly. "You're not the only one who cares about other people."

"Yes, but I thought you didn't like Englishmen."

"I might like one or two," she hedged, her cheeks darkening.

"Oh? This is a new development." He pushed a branch out of the way and held it back while she passed. "Have I made this short list?" He couldn't help his flirtatious tone. Perhaps he was desperate for self-punishment.

She slowed, turning to face him in a narrow section of the path. "Do you think I would have come to Ashbury Court if you had not?" She tilted her head, as if thinking while speaking, and he had another rash desire to kiss her pursed lips. She spoke again, saving him from himself. "Can you blame me? No matter how I rile you, you keep running back to my side. It's hard not to like someone like that."

"You make me sound like a loyal dog."

She laughed again, the sound more lighthearted this time. He caught a whiff of her floral scent when she moved away from him. "If you came to cheer me up, you're doing admirably. But I do wish you'd speak more about yourself." She looked at her hands. "We have both been careful about sharing details about our lives, and I had no idea the reason behind your future betrothal. Can you not tell me something else? About how you claimed that burn on your shoulder? Or why a first son of a baron joined the navy instead of staying safe at home?"

Rolland released the branch and searched the path behind them. "I wonder if Lewis rescued Miss Yearsley. Should we return and see?"

Theresia shook her head. "You're impossible."

He was. He would do almost anything just to keep her happy. "How about just one story today?"

"You don't have to tell me anything, but I'll take whatever you're willing to give."

His brow rose. "Is that so?"

"Mrs. Stone taught us to listen more than we speak, and it's one of the lessons with greater merit, I believe."

Her eagerness ate at his willpower. "I propose a trade, then. A story for a story."

She gave a slow shrug. "I suppose it's only fair."

Neither of them said anything for a moment. So much weighed on Rolland's mind, and sharing about his past wouldn't help. But he had agreed, so he would try. The least he could do was pick the least depressing tale to share with her.

"My father was not thrilled with my decision to join the navy," he began, "but I wanted to do something good with my life. I suppose I wanted the challenge that came with it too. I moved quickly through the ranks, for many reasons. My father's influence helped, and the reputation of my uncle, who was an admiral. I would like to think my natural desire to lead made a difference too, but in truth, others had to die for positions to open. Being a captain isn't always the honor it sounds."

Their hands brushed as they walked, and he rubbed his down the side of his thigh to fight off the desire to steal her fingers with his own.

"Do you have any regrets?"

He slowly but deliberately turned his head from side to side. "It gave me a purpose I didn't have before. I was too much in my own head, worrying about a future already set for me, and giving myself for a cause and for my men was a gift." Saying it out loud set some of his own concerns to right. In some ways, he'd wondered if he'd run away to fight, instead of fighting for the right reasons. Now he knew it was likely both. Admitting it removed his worries. No matter his initial reasons, it had changed him for the better.

"Are you on leave because of your shoulder?"

He flexed his arm involuntarily. "If I was going to get hurt, you would've thought it would be in a skirmish. I'd have a noble death along with the men we lost along the way. This, however, was an accident. A sailor drank far more than his rum ration, and in his drunken state, he broke a lantern. He nearly died, and so did I trying to save him. I'm fortunate to still have my arm, and extra thankful for a good first lieutenant who dowsed me with water before my face was burned too. The unfortunate sailor did not fair nearly as well."

"I'm so sorry. I can't imagine the pain either of you endured." She set her hand briefly on his arm, but her touch was gone too soon.

"I've seen far worse, unfortunately. The horrors of war are great indeed. But talking about it with you reminds me to be grateful for surviving. I didn't always feel that way. I'm not even sure I could until now."

"You should be very grateful. All life is a gift." She paused. "Your memories must be hard to run from though. Do you... do you have nightmares?" She stole a glance at him.

"Sometimes." He'd never told anyone before. "Darkness tends to leave a mark on the mind."

"How do you rid yourself of it?"

Their hands brushed again, and this time he let his hand linger by hers, warmth radiating from his fingers and up his arm. Why did he not value walking more? It was going to be his new favorite pastime, so long as Theresia was with him. "I'm learning that the only way to chase away darkness is the same way the sun clears a storm. One must immerse themselves with light thoughts and memories of better days." He met her gaze. "Lately I've tried something new and surprisingly helpful. I've surrounded myself with someone who trips thieves, constantly puts her and my own reputation at risk, and gallivants at house parties full of potential criminals." He paused before adding, "And somehow she manages to look quite fetching in the process."

A slow, steady grin bloomed on her face, glimmering with a hint of mischievousness. It made his reckless confession about his attraction to her worthwhile.

"No wonder you are so quick to try to cheer me up. It's for selfish reasons."

The most selfish he had been in years, and he refused to think of the consequences. His lips pulled into a half smile. "You finally figured it out."

Somehow this unassuming woman had sneaked into his heart with the same stealth as she had his bedchamber. He hadn't seen it coming. But for just a single moment, he wanted her to stay there.

The path narrowed again, and because Theresia's eyes were on his, she did not step out of the way in time. Her hair snagged on a small branch of an overgrown blackberry bush. She caught her lip between her teeth and hissed in pain. She threw her arms up to untangle it, but it was clear she needed assistance.

"Hold still." He stepped in front of her and took the gnarled twig from her hand. It was entangled worse than he'd first thought. Out of necessity, he inched closer. Her head rested against his chest, making it difficult to concentrate on rescuing her hair. The brown tresses were as soft as he'd remembered. He cleared his throat. "How does a woman manage so much hair?"

"I hope that's a compliment."

"If I had a knife, I could just—"

"No, no. That will not be necessary."

He chuckled. "I shall do my best not to risk a single hair." Especially since each strand carried the heady floral scent he was coming to love.

"Did you get it out yet?" She shifted and winced.

He tugged a pin loose so the hair wouldn't rip out when she moved. "Almost done."

A rustle sounded behind them.

"Rolland?"

They both turned to see his parents step into the trees. Her hair was finally freed, but not in time for Rolland to move from his incriminating position.