Page 42 of The Girl Out of Time
“Uh … have a seat,” he offered, leaving her space on one side while moving as far away as the length of the blanket allowed.
She brushed her hands and sat.
“You wanted to talk,” he said after half a minute of silence.
“Right.” She stared at the bright-lit windows of the mansion across the lawn. “Lord Farenham is back.”
“Your fiancé. I know. I’ve seen him.”
She fumbled with the frills on her skirt.
“He’s not what you expected?” Theo asked.
How did he know, when even she wasn’t sure of her feelings? “Do the servants talk about him?”
“Plenty,” he said. “They say he’s a fine man, and will one day make a great master. You’re very lucky.”
Oh, no.So it was her? Didshemake him behave like a villain? She couldn’t admit that to Theo, though—it was much too embarrassing. “What were you doing on the roof? Doesn’t seem like the best time to be fixing it.”
“I was stargazing. At home, I found it a pleasant place to be, on summer nights like this.”
“Hmm.” She laid down and folded her hands on her belly. Above her was the wonderfully gray, starless sky. “Right.”
“Perhaps I didn’t choose the best night to demonstrate,” Theo said, with his perfectly straight face.
She laughed.
He lay down, too, mimicking her position.
“Hardly a night to fly away to Neverland,” she murmured.
“I’m sorry?”
“Peter Pan. You—” Memories of Leon picking up the book and handing it to her raced through the dark. “You won’t know it.”
“Is it a story?”
She nodded.
“Most likely not, then. I’ve had little chance to read novels.”
“What did you read instead?”
He frowned at the starless sky. “Locke, Rousseau, Plato … I got to readParadise Lostonce. Before Jean-Baptiste dragged me out to go to the village festival.” As he talked, his frown cleared into almost a semblance of a smile.
“I don’t often pick the alternative pastime to reading,” she said, “but in this case, I’m with Jean-Baptiste.” Hadn’t he mentioned that name before? When he was talking in his sleep? “Who is he?”
“My cousin.” Theo reached a hand to his chest, fingering the locket. “He tried to get us back home. After the battle, the one they’re now calling Waterloo. We were on the ship. He’s … he’s gone.”
From the way his voice wavered close to tears, there was no doubt Jean-Baptiste meant a lot to him. Emmeline’s body felt heavy, her limbs chaining her down even as she looked at the endless night above. She’d never lost a close family member. Brendon and Tristan were menaces, but if something happened to them … her throat closed at the mere thought. “I’m sorry,” she choked out.
“It’s all right.” His voice sounded numb.
She may not know how to deal with losing a loved one, but when she was down, sad over whatever little thing had upset her, she used to go toFather and tell him everything; let out the anger, the melancholy, whichever emotion prevailed. He’d listen and hug her, and she felt so much better afterward.
She turned to face Theo. “You can tell me about him. If you wish to.”
Theo glanced at her, then back at the sky. Maybe she said too much. It was one thing to tell your woes to a parent, and another to unleash them at a stranger.
