Page 46 of The Best of Friends
“I do try to be.” It took all his self-control not to pull her into his arms. He hadn’t that right. But he could continue to hold her hands, to stand near her, to watch her beautiful smile play across her lips.
Her bright and dancing eyes never left his face. “Artemis sent for Mr. Layton and her sisters—between all of them, they are invited to absolutely everything of any importance in Society—and we found an evening when nothing of tremendous significance is scheduled. That was one of my parents’ requirements. I suspect they thought I wouldn’t be able to overcome that first obstacle. But I did. And I did it so quickly.”
How could anyone not be utterly delighted listening to her recount what might, from anyone else, seem like a simple triumph?
“Artemis’s sisters who do not live here have returned to their homes. Mr. Layton is still here. He and Artemis decided that Charlie’s green waistcoat would be a better choice with what he is wearing today than the blue one he chose. So the three of them went back upstairs to, as Artemis very seriously put it,rectify the situation. That made Charlie laugh, to which Mr. Layton said, ‘Fashion is not a laughing matter.’ And that made all of them laugh.”
Toss laughed a little as well, not necessarily at the story but with delight at how happy Daria was in that moment. He’d seen her weighed down and sorrowful so often of late that his heart couldn’t help rejoicing to see this change.
“I’m blathering again, I know.” She shook her head at herself. “But I can’t help myself. When I’m excited or worried or embarrassed or...” The sentence tapered off, though she picked up the thread an instant later. “It’s as if my mouth starts running away, and I can’t stop it.”
He squeezed her hands. “I like listening to you talk. And I like seeing you so happy.”
“And I like that you looked so happy when you came into the room. You were bouncing again. You haven’t been doing that as much lately.”
“We have both had a very good day, as it turns out, and have both received help from very generous people.”
Her mouth pulled in anO, and her expression shifted to one of someone having a sudden realization. “Artemis said you were meeting with Mr. Fortier on a matter of importance. It went well, then?”
“Verywell.” Toss couldn’t remember ever having an ongoing conversation with a lady while holding her hands. If he had his way and if fate suddenly decided to be kind, he’d always talk with her this way: holding her hands, perhaps eventually holdingher.
“What did you discuss?” She sounded both impatient and amused. He’d apparently been lost enough in visions of a future he could only dream of that he’d noticeably delayed his retelling.
“Mr. Fortier was very encouraging. He endured difficulties very similar to what I am experiencing and, in the end, claimed the life he’d been hoping for.”
“Oh, thatisencouraging.”
“And he suggested I apply to join the Royal Society of Musicians, though I’m not certain I actually qualify.”
Her expression grew earnest. “But you will at least try?You must. Otherwise, how will they discover how remarkable you are?”
“To be accepted into the Royal Society of Musicians, an applicant must have some irrefutable proof that he is already remarkable. I don’t have the sort of proof that they require.”
“I’lltell them,” she said firmly.
“I’m afraid they won’t accept that as convincing evidence.”
“No, they wouldn’t, would they.” Splotches of color appeared on her face. “I am usually so good about not putting so much faith in my own evaluation of things.” Her eyes took on a pleading quality. “I have always been a little stupid. I sometimes forget not to put so much store by my own judgment.”
He slipped a hand free of hers and cupped her face. “I don’t think you have ever actually been stupid, Daria Mullins. I think what you’ve been is lied to.”
She shook her head. “I was always horrible at my lessons. And if you ever heard me read out loud, you’d know I’m—” She didn’t finish the sentence but dropped her eyes and, to his horror, began to cry.
“Oh heavens, Daria. Please don’t cry.” He fumbled in his pocket for a handkerchief. “I have heard you read, and nothing in it made me think any less of your intelligence.” He set a square of linen in her hand, watching her with concern, wanting to dry her tears himself and hold her to him.
“But I fumble so terribly.” She wiped at her trickling tears.
He set a hand on her arm, rubbing it slowly and, he hoped, comfortingly. “Many people stumble when they read. That doesn’t mean they aren’t clever or intelligent.”
“But my struggles with reading are not the only evidence that has been pointed out to me.”
By her father, Toss would wager. “I could make a list right now of things you’ve done that I inarguably believe are brilliant.”
For reasons he didn’t entirely understand, her tears picked up pace. He brushed one away with his thumb, unsure why his sincere compliment had made things worse.
“I’m not crying now because I’m upset, I promise you,” she said. “I swear to it. I don’t think it’s even just that I’m happy. It’s... It feels almost like relief.” It was all too evident that she had heard too many of her father’s lies for too long. She had learned to believe them. “It is a frightening thing to let myself believe someone might think very well of me, because if I discover later on that they don’t, it hurts so much more.”
“Set your mind at ease on that score, Daria Mullins. The better I know you, the more I think the world of you.”
