B006DTZ3FY EBOK (15 page)

“W
ell,
”
said Sarah gravely,
“I
haven
’
t any brothers. But I think that if I were not allowed to play with Uncle Derek, I might be rather lonely.
”

“Y
ou have a sweet little sister.
”

“O
h, yes, quite! And I do love Pippa. But it
’
s not the same.
”

“P
ippa doesn
’
t pummel her hard enough,
”
explained Derek.
“A
nd she
’
s too small
—
yet
—
to pin Sarah to the floor.
”

Cynthia
looked puzzled.
“B
ut no one enjoys being pummeled and pinned to the floor.
”

Sarah and Derek exchanged glances. Derek shrugged. Sarah looked back at
Cynthia
, her expression indignant.
“H
e would never
hurt
me.
”

The bewilderment on
Cynthia
’
s face made Derek chuckle.
“G
ive over, Sarah. Lady
Cynthia
has never been properly pummeled. Until the day she is, she
’
ll never understand how much fun it can be.
”
He leaned back against the edge of Sarah
’
s table, watching
Cynthia
. He tried to banish the image that had just taken strong possession of his mind: himself pinning
Cynthia
to the floor
... and making sure she liked it.
“T
ell us about your family,
”
he suggested.
“
Are they more like the Chases than the Whittakers?
”

She bit her lip.
“I
t can
’
t possibly interest you.
”

“O
n the contrary.
”
He signaled Sarah to second his entreaty. She peered obligingly up at
Cynthia
, looking like a kindly little owl in her spectacles.

“P
ray tell us, Lady
Cynthia
,
”
she urged.
“A
re they frightfully stuffy?
”

Cynthia
laughed aloud at that.
“C
ertainly not. My papa is anything but stuffy. He
’
s quite the avid sportsman. In fact, he taught me how to ride as well as my brothers do. It was mostly
indoor
things I was not allowed to do. Sitting on the floor, for example, or kicking the legs of my chair, or speaking too loudly, or slouching. Running in the house. Taking the stairs two steps at a time. Things of that nature.
”
Her eyes took on a faraway look as she remembered.
“I
was punished once for sliding on the dining room floor in my stocking feet, after it had just been polished. It was great fun, as I recall. Rather like skating. But it wasn
’
t ladylike.
”

Sarah opened her eyes at this.
“Y
ou weren
’
t a lady yet,
”
she announced, firing up in defense of the child
Cynthia
.
“A
nd how did you play at jackstraws if you couldn
’
t sit on the floor?
”

“I
played at a table.
”

Sarah looked skeptical.
“D
ull work,
”
she remarked.
“I
had rather sit on the floor.
”

This was all highly illuminating, Derek thought. Repressed as a child,
Cynthia
had grown into a reserved, secr
etive woman. A woman who feared
... what? Divine retribution, if she cro
ssed some invisible line?

He studied the nearly imperceptible changes in her expression as thoughts and feelings raced through her. There were hidden depths of emotion in
Cynthia
, as he well knew. He sensed a growing chaos there, as if long-held assumptions, carefully instilled in her by her strict upbringing, were being unexpectedly challenged, one after the other. Was he the source of her confusion? He hoped so. A little confusion never hurt anyone. In fact, it often proved a catalyst for change. And he intended to bring changes to
Cynthia
’
s life. Big changes, and soon.

“J
udging by the look on your face when I gave my opinion of Hector, your family never speaks ill of each other,
”
he remarked.
“W
e might do well to copy that. What say you, Sarah? Shall we turn over a new leaf? Stop ragging each other?
”

“W
e don
’
t rag each other.
”
Sarah frowned.
“O
nly in jest. That
’
s different.
”

“B
ut we never mind our tongues, do we?
”

“W
e don
’
t need to.
”
She settled her spectacles more firmly on her nose.
“P
eople who understand each other know the difference between a joke and a scold
.
”

Derek laughed.
“S
arah, my pet, you are wise beyond your years.
”

“S
he is certainly talented beyond her years.
”
Cynthia
came to the table and bent over the delicate blooms rendered so beautifully by Sarah
’
s hand.
“T
hese are lovely. Good enough to illustrate a gardening text.
”

Sarah ducked her head and beamed, expressing both shyness and pleasure. Seeing that his niece had momentarily lost her tongue, Derek chimed in. The best way to ease Sarah
’
s self-consciousness was to say something ridiculous.

“I
f you
must
know,
”
he said, in a pained voice,
“
we
’
re all very proud of her. I
’
m just doing my part to keep the brat humble. A difficult task, as I
’
m sure you can appreciate. I try to limit my compliments to one per week; no more. Deprivation is good for the soul.
”

Cynthia
looked amused.
“W
hose soul? Yours or Sarah
’
s?
”

He feigned surprise.
“W
hy, Sarah
’
s, of course. My soul was whipped into shape long ago. Hers is still in the formative stage.
”

He loved to see the spark of laughter in
Cynthia
’
s eyes.
“W
ho whipped your soul into shape?
”
she inquired.
“D
id you have an uncle, too?
”

“N
o, alas, I was not so fortunate. I had to wait for life itself to teach me, and thus learned everything in the hardest possible way.
”

“I
could wait for life,
”
Sarah offered.
“Y
ou needn
’
t put yourself out, trying so hard to
help
me.
”

He placed one hand against his heart and lifted his eyes piously toward heaven.
“D
ear child! If you only knew the trouble you cause me. But I was never one to shirk my duty.
”

Cynthia and Sarah
both laughed at that absurdity, which pleased him. He held the chair for Sarah and she sat, removing her eyeglasses and placing them, again, at her left hand. A dreamy look came over her as her world went out of focus. She selected a brush, one of the tiniest of her set, dipped it in the water, expertly swirled it against a cake of color, and bent close to the paper. Derek knew, from long experience, that she had already entered a trance-like state, so utterly focused on what she was doing that she was oblivious to their continued presence. They would have to shake her if they wanted her attention now. He smiled. Sarah was an odd duck, but he was, actually, quite proud of her. Fond of her, too.

He glanced at
Cynthia
and saw that she, too, was aware of Sarah
’
s powerful ability to shut out the world
—
and that it did not lessen her admiration or affection. She lifted her eyes to his and for a flash of time they smiled at each other, walls down. Then she dropped her eyes, and the unguarded moment passed.

He sought to bring it back.
“I’
m glad you see what we see in her,
”
he said softly.
“N
ot everyone does.
”

She seemed to know what he meant.
“H
as she found it difficult to make friends of her own age?
”

“I
think so.
”

“E
xtremely clever children are often a bit eccentric.
”
A wistful smile curved the corners of
Cynthia
’
s mouth.
“I
envy her a little. I wish I had invented, when I was a child, such an excellent way to escape reality.
”

Sarah
’
s absorption was so complete, they might as well have been alone. Electricity seemed to hum in the air between them.
Cynthia
evidently felt it, too. She folded her arms across herself in an unconscious gesture of protection.

“W
ell,
”
she said, offering him a forced little smile,
“I
think I shall leave her to her work. Good day, Mr. Whittaker.
”

She was already halfway to the door, but he caught up with her in two quick strides.
“M
ay I ask where you are headed?
”
He kept his tone neutral, pretending it was the sort of idle inquiry she might receive from anyone.
“I
would be glad to escort you.
”

“I
don
’
t need an escort, thank you.
”

He gave her his most disarming grin.
“I
didn
’
t say you needed it. I said I would be glad to provide it. A subtle, but important, difference.
”
He held the door for her.

She hung back for a moment, seeming irresolute.
“T
hank you,
”
she said tonelessly.
“B
ut I had rather you didn
’
t.
”

“P
erhaps I haven
’
t expressed myself clearly. It would be my
pleasure
to accompany you.
”
She had looked away, so he bent himself nearly double, catching her lowered eyes by placing his face, willy-nilly, in her line of vision.
“C
ome now,
Cynthia
,
”
he said coaxingly.
“D
on
’
t make me beg. For such a little thing?
”
He held up his thumb and forefinger, pinching them nearly together to demonstrate how tiny the favor was that he asked of her.
“I
promise to do nothing
alarm
ing
.
”

Her lips twitched.
“V
ery well,
”
she said resignedly.
“B
ut only because I fear you would follow me everywhere, like a duckling, if I refused.
”

He straightened at once.
“H
ow well you know me,
”
he remarked, in a pleased-sounding voice. She laughed, and passed through the open doorway. He felt a strong impulse to whoop in triumph, but managed to suppress it.

“W
here are we going?
”
he asked, falling into step beside her.