The marquess smiled, then shoved his silver tongue into his cheek.
She narrowed her eyes on him, then shook her head. “It was a small victory,” she said softly, leaning in toward him as Will returned to the house, stomping his feet every few steps.
“A victory nonetheless,” the marquess expressed and kept shoveling.
“Is it just about being the victor?”
He glanced at her, then tossed a shovelful of snow away. “What else is there for it to be about?”
“Well, it would depend on what you’re fighting for.” A moment of sanity drifted over her and she wondered how crazy she was to stand outside, freezing her fingers off to talk to a guy she claimed not to like because he’d pushed his weight around with Will. “If you’re fighting because of your pride, then I think the victory shouldn’t be celebrated.
“You think pride was driving me?” he asked and pushed the shovel into the snow.
“Yes,” she told him honestly. “Whether I stayed with you or left you was my decision.”
“That’s why I remained quiet,” he pointed out.
She gave him the slightest smile. “You did something right.”
“I’ll astonish you,” he teased.
She wanted to tell him he already had. What he had was rare. She had a thousand questions for him, but she didn’t want him to know that she’d watched him dance while he was alone. It was weird to spy and do exactly what she accused him of doing.
He was about to push the shovel into the snow when he stopped. He said nothing but inclined his ear and knelt. The next instant he used his hands to shovel the snow away. He suddenly stopped. Aria thought she heard him groan. He scooped something up in his hands and stared at it.
Looking over his shoulder, Aria saw a sparrow in his hand.
“Is it…”
“It’s gone.”
Aria liked sparrows but she didn’t know she liked them enough to cry when she saw a little dead one. Her eyes burned and her tears were icy cold slipping down her cheeks. Looking up, she saw the marquess watching her tears as they fell from her face.
Then, he straightened, still holding the sparrow. “Will you hold it while I dig?”
She nodded without hesitation, and they exchanged the sparrow in their hands. Aria held its icy body while the marquess dug a proper little place for the bird to rest.
Who was this man? A crazy person who found the death of his enemy amusing, a magnificent dancer who could convey an emotional range from madness and despair to rapture.
“How did you know its body was under the snow?” she asked him when he stepped back.
He didn’t answer and then shook his head and looked away. “I don’t know. I just did.”
“Can you really talk to animals?”
He returned his harder gaze to her. “You shouldn’t listen to ridiculous rumors spread by people who don’t know anything.”
“So, it’s not true then?” she pressed.
His gaze intensified for a moment. He didn’t answer her, then continued shoveling.
Well, he really didn’t deny it. He didn’t admit it either. Why was she even entertaining this nonsense? No one could communicate with animals.
Right, and no one could travel through time either.
She watched the marquess of Dartmouth shovel the Gable’s front yard. For her. She blurted out a short laugh. She certainly wasn’t going to fall for his silver tongue.
“Hmm?” the marquess urged, hearing her laughter.