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“No thank you, Eliza.”
The girl frowned at her before she withdrew.
She had resisted him, of course, Teresa thought. With all her might. She had held back, doubted, rejected. It had been a long battle of will and wits. But Lord Macklin had countered every gambit and gradually made his way into her heart. So deeply into her heart. Even now her thoughts were full of his handsome figure, his wonderful smile, his many sterling qualities. Most of all she remembered the kiss—a simple act, lasting only a few moments, that had shown her how much of life she’d been missing. It still made her dizzy to think if it.
But in the last few days, as the final arrangements for the dancers’ future were being made and her part in things had dwindled down to nothing, Teresa had been reminded of their inequality. He had great power in the world, and she had none. He had taken over all the helping. She had stood back and watched and remembered times when she’d been helpless. She’d hated that. And the truth of their differences didn’t change because he was a good person.
Must she stop seeing the Earl of Macklin now? Because it hurt too much? If she asked him to stop visiting the theater workshop, he would want to know why. Her spirit cried out against such a loss.
Again, Eliza looked in from the kitchen. “Are you sure I can’t fetch anything at all for you, ma’am?” she said.
“No thank you, Eliza.” Perhaps she should leave London, Teresa thought, but she couldn’t think where she would go. And she didn’t want to.
“There’s nothing like a nice cup of tea,” said the maid.
“Not right now.”
Eliza went out, looking over her shoulder as if hoping for a different answer.
The knock on the door was unexpected. Teresa rose in response even as Eliza returned and went to open it.
The Earl of Macklin stood on her doorstop. Teresa couldn’t pretend not to see him. She was perfectly visible.
“I beg your pardon for calling without warning,” he said. “I have something particular to say to you.”
She could only invite him in. “Some tea after all, Eliza,” she said.
The maid eyed their noble visitor with frank curiosity as she left.
“Has something gone wrong with our plans?” Teresa asked.
“Not at all. I’m told that everything is proceeding very well at the house, though Miss Finch would be able to give you a more detailed report. I have heard that Jill is taking a position as household assistant.”
“Assistant?”
“She did not wish to be called a maid.”
Teresa had to smile. She indicated the sofa as she returned to her chair. He sat down opposite her, looking uncharacteristically awkward. And like everything a woman could desire.
Eliza returned with a tray. She must have had a kettle boiling. Teresa poured tea and offered it as the maid went out again.
Lord Macklin set his cup down beside his seat. “I thought you might have some idea of what I’m going to say,” he said. “After all that…has passed between us.”
The heat of their kiss was in his eyes, but that told her only of desire. She shook her head.
“This is more difficult than I remembered.” His smile was wry. “But it has been rather a long time.”
What could he be talking about?
“Should I get down, I wonder?”
What did he mean? Down where?
“I think not. If I had difficulties rising from the floor…” He made a deprecating gesture.
“Is something wrong?” asked Teresa. She’d begun to be concerned.
“Best just to blurt it out, I suppose.” Lord Macklin sat straighter. “Would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
