She stopped breathing and looked at him again. “That isn’t wise. Go to bed. I won’t go anywhere tonight.”
He looked so surprised, she almost smiled. “You won’t go tonight?
“No.”
“For me?”
He was so much more transparent than the men of 2024. She thought honesty and naivety were very attractive.
She nodded. “Now we’re even. You shoveled the front of Will’s property for me. I’m not checking the doors tonight for you.”
He smiled, then turned stoic again when he looked at Will. But Aria had seen it. It was genuine. Not just something given to shock or beguile.
“I’m sorry that you came all the way here with me, Will,” she said, genuinely sorry for dragging him out of his warm home only to send him out again.
“It was nothing,” Will assured, keeping one eye on the marquess. Will had seen him smile too and risked much. “I hope to see you again tomorrow.”
The marquess parted his lips, then shut them when he caught Aria watching him. He let her bid Will a peaceful night without saying anything mean or worthy of another Harry remark. She knew that would prick him and she felt a little guilty for using his enemy’s worst trait against him.
“Where are you going?” She hurried to cut him off when he turned for his dance hall instead of his bedroom.
“I need to move.”
“Move to your bed, you stubborn—” she stopped when he looked at her. “You aren’t dancing. I won’t let you.”
She realized what she said and who she sounded like the second after she said it. “I don’t want you to get very sick. It’s just for a couple of days. I know it’s hard,” she said standing in front of him, blocking his path, “but please, stay safe and rest.”
He stared into her eyes and then finally nodded. She was about to smile… “Stay with me until I can dance. If you go while I can’t, I’ll go madder than I already am.”
“Blackmail?”
“Only if it works.”
She hated herself for it, but she smiled. He smiled back.
The more time she spent with him, the more she began to realize that he didn’t always mean what he said, and when she thought he was being serious, he wasn’t. It wasn’t always easy to tell because his expression remained unchanged.
She insisted on walking him back to his room. On the way, they met Timothy Cavendish.
“Ah, the boy who could talk to animals,” the marquess’ stepbrother said with a sneer. “Word is spreading fast about how the birds did your bidding today. Tell me, do you always use birds to fight for you? Did you do so in the army as well?”
“Excuse me,” Aria said with a polite smile. “I don’t know how to address you. You’re not the lord of anywhere, are you?”
“Not yet.” His sneer darkened when it left her and turned on the marquess, who was smirking at what she said.
“Well, Mr. Cavendish,” she continued, still smiling politely. “The marquess had been knocked out cold. I was there. Whichever of your friends is spreading that rumor, they are dishonest, and to trust them would be foolish.”
“Are you calling me a fool?” His sneer faded into something more serious.
“Only if you believe them,” she replied.
The instant Mr. Cavendish drew his next breath—or perhaps before then, the marquess stepped in front of her.
“I’m warning you now,” he said, sounding more like a snarling animal than a man, “speak to her again and I’ll show you why I don’t need birds to do my bidding. For addressing her without my permission, I may have a thousand armies of fleas make your life an unbearable living hell.” He stared level into his stepbrother’s eyes and then smiled—chuckled even.
Aria didn’t say a word when he took hold of her hand and led her away from a sputtering Mr. Cavendish.
“Why did you defend me when I told you that Icancommunicate with animals?” he asked Aria, growing serious—or at least appearing serious—as they neared the door to his rooms.