Puzzled, he greeted her great aunt, Miss Flowers, and then reached for the papers and drawings his grandmother still held, anxious to put them away for reasons he didn’t care to explain.
His grandmother swatted away his hand. “I’m not finished.”
He took them anyway. “We can review them another day. I should leave you to your callers.”
“Nonsense. I’ve already ordered tea.”
Resigned to stay a few minutes longer, he carried the papers to the table in the corner only to notice one of his drawings flutter to the floor.
Lady Prudence retrieved the paper, aiding him once again. Rather than immediately hand it to him, she studied the drawing with interest. “Is this for a windmill?”
“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate as she wouldn’t want to hear it. To his surprise, embarrassment took hold as she continued to study it carefully while he set down the papers and waited for the one she held.
“Is this something you’re working on?” she asked in a quiet voice.
He glanced at the older ladies who were going on about the “poor cat” before returning his attention to Lady Prudence. It didn’t matter whether she knew of his work, he told himself. Chances were he wouldn’t see her again for a long while, if ever. “A bit of a hobby of mine.”
She lifted those pretty blue eyes to his, their long lashes framing wide eyes that gleamed with intelligence. The interest in her expression lightened her features, making him realize how pretty she was in a quiet, understated way.
She reminded him of his grandmother’s treasured painting that hung above the fireplace. It was easy to dismiss at first glance. Only after a person studied it did the richness and depth come to light.
“We have a windmill at our house in the country,” she said. “They are such clever devices.”
“Yes, they are.” He bit back the urge to tell her exactly why that was true. Ladies didn’t want to hear about such things.
“This is different than ours. The blades appear to be narrower and longer.” She studied the paper a moment longer before handing it to him with a smile. “How interesting.”
“Thank you.” He hoped she thought he thanked her for returning it to him rather than for her interest.
They rejoined the older ladies when Wilson arrived with the tea tray.
“Your home is lovely as always,” Miss Flowers said.
“Thank you.” His grandmother took pride in the few possessions she had.
“I so admire that painting,” Miss Flowers said as she gestured toward the Monet water lily scene displayed above the fireplace in a prominent position—the same one that reminded Silas of Lady Prudence.
His grandmother smiled. “As you may remember, my late husband was friends with Monet for a time when we briefly lived in France. He gave it to Henry in exchange for his assistance. I adore it and wouldn’t let it go for anything.”
Silas was pleased she’d never felt the need to sell it, though it must be worth a fair amount, since her financial situation was strained at times. He appreciated the enjoyment she took from the painting, both for the appealing scene it depicted and the memory of his grandfather.
They gathered around the low table where his grandmother poured tea with graceful, deliberate movements, taking pleasure in the process. He loved that about her. It was a lesson for life—to enjoy the small moments of each day—and one he was still trying to learn. It was easy to allow worry for the future to overshadow the present.
Lady Prudence said little but listened closely as if enjoying the older ladies’ conversation. Her cheeks bloomed with a charming blush as their gazes met over their teacups.
Silas found himself watching her more than he should. That wouldn’t do. He didn’t want her to think he was taken by her. If she were an heiress, he might consider pursuing her. Lady Prudence was easy to be with, a good listener, and attentive to her aunt.
Clearly, she was also good at keeping secrets.
The few remarks she offered were intelligent, though they often ended with a wary glance in his direction as if she expected him to counter them.
What had caused her lack of confidence, he wondered.
He indulged himself with numerous biscuits, sandwiches, and two cups of tea.
Lady Prudence’s gaze kept straying toward the small, iced cakes, but she resisted taking one. When she studied them again a few minutes later, Silas couldn’t resist reaching for the silver tongs to place one on her plate followed by one on his own.
“Oh.” She blinked at him in surprise. “I shouldn’t.”