“He got hit in the head again.”
“I don’t think I would like that much,” said Smith. “Nor do I recall that being on the list of things Dr. Willis suggested to encourage my memory.”
“Best to follow the doctor’s orders, then,” said the countess with a wink.
The countess gave Smith a long look again. “I do wonder now if I knew your parents in my youth. You look about the age of my son. Perhaps it will come to me.”
Adele had hoped the countess would remember. Part of her also hoped Smith’s family would be out looking for him, but how would they know to look for him here? She’d been checking the newspapers for stories of missing nobles but had yet to see anything. Perhaps tomorrow, she’d be able to put a name to the coat of arms and that would narrow the search enough.
Probably she could have gone to town today. Part of her was putting off the inevitable.
She felt a little guilty about that, but Smith hadn’t questioned her.
“Back in my day,” the countess said, “we still powdered our hair to go out. I met the earl at Lady Christie’s annual ball, and my own hair was too flat, so my sister talked me into this ridiculous wig festooned with flowers and feathers. The earl toldme later that he found me quite fetching, though I do not know how he did not think me a clown. Let me tell you, I was not sad to see that custom pass into obscurity.”
Adele wondered what the point of this story was, but Smith said, “Perhaps my parents were hidden under wigs when you met.”
“Precisely so,” said the countess. “My last social season was long ago. Lady Christie is long dead.”
“I have the sense that my father and I were not particularly close but that my mother and I were. Part of me wishes to see her, although I of course barely remember what she looks like.” Smith sighed. “I do not wish to bring the room down. Perhaps we could play cards?”
“I’d be delighted,” said the countess. “Adele, dear, there is a deck of cards in the top drawer of the chest of drawers in the corner.”
*
Much later, Smithescorted Adele down the hall to her bedroom, which he had not realized until they arrived was across the hall from the room where he’d been staying.
“The countess seems… lively.”
Adele laughed. “She is that, most days. I worry about her lately. She has not seemed herself, although she did tonight. Perhaps she just needed some company to put forward a good face.”
“She clearly cares for you a great deal.”
“Thank you. We’ve grown quite fond of each other, I think.” Adele shook her head and pressed a hand over her eyes.
“What is it?”
Adele sighed and dropped her hand. “Are you familiar with the Brothers Grimm?”
The question took him aback. “No. Are they society gentlemen?”
She laughed. “No. They are German academics who compile and publish old folktales. They released a collection not long ago that contains a story called ‘Cinderella.’ In the story, a young girl loses her mother, and then her father remarries. Shortly after the wedding, the father joins his first wife in heaven, and Cinderella is left in the care of her stepmother, who is not at all kind or compassionate. She makes Cinderella wait on her as a servant would. I lately feel that way. I am not a blood relation of anyone in the Sweeney family, nor am I a servant. I work for the countess, but my role is to keep her company, not make her tea or clean up her bedroom. And yet…”
“Is that why you are so unhappy?”
She winced. “I should stop being so unflinchingly honest with you or you will think me truly pathetic.”
“I do not think you pathetic.” Smith picked up her hand and held it in his own. He was surprised by how small and delicate her hands seemed. He smiled at her. “I appreciate your honesty. I suppose if we had met at a party, we’d have guile enough to put forth some perfect version of ourselves meant to impress each other. But I feel that I have gotten to know something of you these last few days.”
She smiled back shyly. “Thank you. I believe I have found some innate goodness of you. You may not know your name or your title or where you came from, but you are… yourself.”
“I hope so. I would hate to think that I’ve forgotten that I used to be a tyrant.”
“That cannot be possible.”
“And if it turns out I have no title or if I am a mere baronet without any significant wealth or property?”
“It would not matter to me. You earn a title merely by being born by the right family. A title does not speak to your work ethic or your kindness or your character.”
