A Waltz in the Park by Deb Marlowe Read Free Book Online Page B

dry.”
    But the girl caught sight of the mess on the floor and began to sob in earnest.  “It was wrong, I know, but it was only—” 
    The rest grew unintelligible. 
    “You wished to hear the poetry?”
    The girl nodded and valiantly tried to stifle her tears, but the sight of Vickers seemed to be the last straw.  “Oh, Mama will b. . .b . . be furious!”
    “Nonsense,” Addy interrupted.  “No one has seen you save for the two of us—and we will certainly not spread the tale.”
    This did not have the beneficial effect she’d hoped for.  The crying continued.
    “Come now,” Addy said desperately.  “This is not so bad!  Have you not heard of the royal princess, locked in a tower, who vowed to hurl flowers down to her favored suitors and urns down upon the heads of those who displeased her?”
    That stopped her for a moment.  “No,” she said on a hiccup.
    “The princess had such a temper, she filled the courtyard with pottery shards before she found a man worthy of a posy.  At once, she set him a series of tasks he thought he’d never complete.”
    The tears dried up.  “What were they?”
    “Why don’t I tell you while you and I gather up the stems and Mr. Vickers goes to fetch a servant to wipe up the water?”
    The girl nodded.  Addy raised her brows at Vickers, who stared very hard at her for a moment, then started off.  “After she tossed him a lovely stem of lilac, the princess told her swain he must climb a far off rock face . . .”
    The story ended as they pushed the last of the flowers back into place.  “Now, you can run back upstairs with no one the wiser,” Addy told the girl.
    “Thank you, ever so much.”  The child curtsied, then gave a nod past her—and Addy turned to find Vickers returned and watching them.  His curious expression caught her, and she stared, trying to decipher if it was heated or soft, or an odd mix of both.  Behind her the girl slipped away and they were left in a stretched, taut silence.
    His gaze left hers and ran over her, as heavy and tangible as if he touched her all the way down.  “I begin to think that the young bucks are right and you are indeed perfect.  How on earth did you come up with a story that so exactly fit her needs?”
    “It’s an old talent,” she said faintly.  “It’s easier to reassure someone when you know them, and understand what they want to hear.  But this was easy.  She needed to hear it would be all right, that everyone makes mistakes.  I just told her in a different way.”  Musing, she continued.  “It’s harder when you wish to scare someone.  Then you have to know what they don’t want to hear—or make a good guess.”
    “Well, it was impressive.” 
    If she’d been the fainting sort, she would have fluttered at the trembling wave that passed over her.  “Thank you.”
    He took a step backward toward the doorway. 
    Before she knew what she was about, she reached up and gripped his upper arm.
    “You were right, I do perhaps owe you something more, tonight.”
    He waited.
    “I know I said that Rosamond must tell you her story, but perhaps it will help you to know it.”  She shifted.  “It might help her as well.”
    “I’m willing to listen.”
    Reluctantly, she peeled her fingers away.  The girl was gone, but Lady Lisle’s guests lingered just beyond the wall and Rosamond and her knight sat across the room, yet somehow their situation felt strangely isolated.  Addy breathed deeply, calming herself, concentrating as she always did before launching into a story.
    “Death is an odd thing,” she began.
    “Wait.”  He frowned.  “I thought you were going to tell me about Rosamond.”
    “I am.”  She frowned back.  “Don’t interrupt.”
    “Well it’s a strange way to start, and an off-putting description in any case.  People might say that death is tragic or unexpected or heartbreaking—but odd?”
    She sighed.  “”Just listen.  But perhaps I should say instead