“Alright, dear,” she said, moving slowly to the door. “But if you do not speak with her soon, I will.”
Chapter 26
Estelle
The first time I had seen Augusta with a chicken in her lap, I was certain she would not be able to concentrate on our lesson. But Augusta seemed to do better when she had a pet in her hands, or after a breath of fresh air. So, I ignored the little chick’s persistent chirps and assigned her another section from her reading primer. As soon as she finished, I asked a few questions to ascertain her comprehension of the text.
“What do you—” My words fell short when Atlas entered the library.
I flew to my feet, my back ramrod straight. It was suddenly hard to breathe, and the temperature in the room rose. He was back. Much sooner than I had imagined. And the mere sight of him sent my insides into a puddle.
Atlas met my gaze, and one corner of his mouth pulled up into a smile. “Good morning, ladies. May I interrupt for a moment?”
Augusta looked at me, and I answered for the both of us. “What is it?” I half feared that he would want to talk about us, and I was not ready to do so.
He lifted his hand to reveal a theater bill. “I have tickets for us all to attend the theater tonight. It’s not a London production, but there is a small, reputable house not too far from us. It’s a bit of a carriage ride, so we will have to leave early.”
He remembered that he had promised to take me to the theater. I could hardly believe it.
Augusta squealed, jumping from her seat, and nearly lost hold of the little chicken. “Truly? The theater?” Her enthusiasm wavered. “But wait, Mother said we could not spend money on anything frivolous.”
He shrugged. “On a regular day, yes, but this celebration is an exception.”
Augusta tossed aside her book. “What are we celebrating?”
Atlas met my gaze, as if passing on a secret message with his eyes, before turning to his sister. “We are celebrating you, Augusta. You have kept your companion for six weeks and shown remarkable improvement in your behavior. I do believe this is the first time I have returned home from a trip without Mother fretting about you.”
Augusta scowled. “Your compliments are not the most flattering. However, I do love celebrations and will overlook your motivations this once—for the sake of the theater.”
“A good choice,” Atlas said. “Miss Lewis, I do hope you will join us. We cannot fathom going without you.”
“Is that so?” I laughed, giddy that he had not only thought of me but had made plans too. “In that case, I would be delighted.”
Augusta tapped her chin in thought. “I wonder if Mama would let me borrow her lorgnette.”
“It’s a small theater,” Atlas answered. “Only the very old will have need for opera glasses.”
Augusta looked to the ceiling in exasperation. “Even I, who do not frequent Society, know that they are the height of fashion.” She turned to me and thrust the chick in my hand, taking me quite off guard. “I will be back. I must ask straightaway.”
I gasped and barely held on to the squirming chick.
Atlas blocked Augusta’s path. “If you have to ask, you will put the chick away first.”
I laughed, having managed to contain the chick well enough. But I did worry about what I would do with any accidents it left behind.
“Very well.” Augusta scooped the little pecking thing from my grasp and hurried away.
I let Augusta go, knowing that there was nothing I could do to stop her when she had her mind set on it. Besides, she would only think of another excuse if it meant leaving Atlas and me alone. She took more interest in making an unlikely match between us than her visit from Mr. Abramson while Atlas had been away. She should be focusing on her own suitors, not my lack of them. Regardless of her bad habits, I had not been prepared to be alone with Atlas so soon.
Atlas tilted his head to the side, watching me. “You look afraid all of the sudden.”
“Me? Afraid? What a funny thing to say.” And yet, I found my feet had taken a step away from him toward the bookshelf, and I had been straightening the seams of my gloves again.
He clasped his hands behind his back and strolled toward me. “Remember the night we broke bread together in the larder?”
“Shh,” I urged, glancing over his shoulder for his mother or anyone else who might be passing by.
My concern was not shared by him, but he did lower his voice—which only made it sound soft and sultry. “You were afraid then too. Except this time, I do not believe it’s because you’re worried someone will catch you eating all our food.”
