The robin hopped onto another branch in the bush, looking at her as it did. Carefully, Harriet lifted her pencil and opened her sketchbook. The robin did not fly away.
“Will you let me draw you, Mr. Robin?” She tilted her head towards the little bird.
The robin let out several more chirrups but remained on the branch. Harriet began to draw it.
“You know, I have never managed to get so close to a robin before now,” Harriet said as she sketched. “You are a rather brave little fellow are you not?”
The robin hopped between branches, chirping softly. It made Harriet smile. “I am nearly done. I promise. And then I will stop twittering on at you. Perhaps tomorrow, I will see if I can ask the gardeners to put out some birdseed for you.”
“Is somebody there?” A deep voice called out.
The robin took flight and Harriet cursed, whirling round to find herself face to face with Theodore. His eyes widened as did hers.
“Were you talking to yourself?” Theodore looked around, his eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“I was talking to a robin,” Harriet explained, her cheeks going a shade of pink as the absurdity of her statement hit her.
She expected Theodore to make fun of her or to point out that only madwomen talked to birds. To her surprise, he did not. Instead, he nodded as though it made perfect sense and pointed to the bush the bird had just left. “He has a nest in there.”
“Oh. I suppose that would explain why he was so disgruntled when I first arrived.” Harriet peered in the direction Theodore was pointing and saw the twigs nestled between branches. “I should tell the gardeners to be careful.”
“I have already done this,” Theodore explained. “I walk the grounds every day to check for new nests and to make sure none of the ones I have discovered have been disturbed.”
Harriet blinked. “Is that the sort of thing dukes usually do?”
“I like to know what is going on in my grounds.” Theodore made a vague gesture with his right hand as though dismissing something.
“But surely the gardeners or the grounds keeper could tell you anything you needed to know?” The crease in Harriet’s brow deepened.
Theodore stiffened. “I find frequent inspections are a good way to remind the staff to take care in their work.”
Theodore’s eyes drifted back to the nest, reminding Harriet of a hawk circling the sky, the land laid out before him. He rolled out his neck, but the motion coiled him tighter like spring in a loaded pistol.
The rustle of leaves above them filled the silence. “I did not mean to offend you.”
“You did not,” Theodore replied his voice as cool as the breeze on her skin. “I like things to be done properly, and I have learned that such standards require oversight.”
Harriet wondered just how much Theodore kept under his control. Not a thing in Irondale was out of place, the servants ran with military efficiency and yet Theodore checked and triple checked everything.It must be exhausting.She kept the thought to herself, sure that uttering it aloud would be disastrous.
Theodore’s eyes drifted to Harriet’s sketchbook and she shifted it self-consciously.
“ “Phoebe is in lessons, and I am nearly done with the household accounts. I felt restless and I thought a little break might help me focus. I have not been here long.”
Theodore arched an eyebrow at her, and she added. “I do not want you to think I am not taking my duties seriously.”
His face shifted, lips quirking downwards; a cloud passed over head and Harriet shivered. “Your art is a part of those duties, Harriet.”
“Besides, it is important to Phoebe, and though you are talented, all great things require consistency and practice.” Theodore ran a hand through his hair. “May I see it?”
Harriet hesitated and nodded, handing over the sketch. “It is not finished and only a quick thing really…”
“And yet you have captured Bertie’s essence perfectly.” Theodore focused on the image; Harriet’s skin tingled as though he were looking at her, not her drawing. “You can see his challenging eyes, his protective nature. This is not just any robin, it is him.”
“Bertie?” Harriet asked, the weight of Theodore’s compliments settling across her shoulder like a thick woolen coat.
“It is a pun.”
“I know that. I… I just did not expect you to name him.”
