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“It’s late.” I flopped into the chair across from her.
She stretched her arms and yawned. “Are Aunt Vivian and Uncle Oscar home yet?”
“I don’t think so.” I hid my own yawn behind my hand. Apparently, the things were contagious. Fae didn’t yawn.
“What are you doing home? I thought they said you were gone for the evening.”
“I just returned. Saw the light on and came in to see who was awake.”
“Oh.” She looked around the room and then down at her pajamas. “I should go to bed.”
“Or stay up a bit longer. I’ll throw another log on the fire and get some more wine.” I should have been encouraging her to go to bed, but I didn’t want to appear too eager to see her off.
“No. I should really go to bed.” She started to get up from the chair.
“I saw you were reading about Lord Edric,” I said, motioning to the book on the table between us. “If you want, I’ll tell you what they left out of that story.” Unfortunately, I couldn’t tell her everything I knew. According to my family, the story she’d been reading wasn’t even close to right. But my family did like to exaggerate that whole kidnapping-of-Godda thing. Not that I can blame them; Godda was my aunt. My mother had been there that night.
Evelyn cocked her head. “Why are you going out of your way to help me?”
“Would you rather I ignore you? Don’t people have conversations with their housemates where you live?”
“I suppose. It’s just, you’re not really a housemate, you’re…” Her voice trailed off, but I knew where she’d been going with that statement.
“Your uncle’s secretary?” I offered. If only she knew.
“Well, yes.” She frowned.
I tapped my fingers on the arm of the chair. “Right.” She thought I was a joke, and I couldn’t prove otherwise.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” Her cheeks had begun to turn pink, but I didn’t think it was from the warmth of the fire. It took some of the sting out, thinking that she might be embarrassed by her own snobbery.
“You didn’t mean to imply that I’m hired help? That being someone’s secretary is somehow beneath you?” I had to remind myself that she was human. Her worldview was so small. I tried not to let it bother me, but it did.
“No. I mean, everyone has to start somewhere.” She winced, possibly realizing how awful that sounded.
I shook my head. “But what if this is where I want to be? What I want to be doing?”
Her eyes widened. “Well, I guess. If you’re happy.”
I groaned. “You think success is a graduate degree? Is that what’s going to make you happy?”
She shifted in her chair until she was sitting up straight. “It’s a start. Graduating from Oxford would make me happy. So would following in my uncle’s footsteps and traveling as an expert guest lecturer to New York, or San Francisco, or London, or maybe Paris. Or maybe all of them. I don’t know.”
“So, because I don’t have a degree, I couldn’t possibly be successful, or happy, according to you.” I flexed my hands. My magic surged inside, screaming to be let out, but I pushed it down.
Her eyes widened, and she sucked in a breath. “I…I didn’t mean it that way—”
“I get to do something I love and live somewhere I love and spend time with people I admire and respect. What difference does it make where I did or didn’t go to university or what my title is?”
“It doesn’t.” She buried her head in her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m kind of having a bad day.”
“What happened?” I asked. My annoyance melted in the face of her misery.
“It’s nothing,” she said. “I just…I just had this plan, you know? I had it all figured out and now nothing seems to be going right. I think I made a huge mistake coming here.”
“To Lydbury?” I was completely confused. What could possibly have been so bad about visiting her aunt and uncle for Christmas?
“No,” she said. She shook her head. “Or maybe. I don’t know. I should have just told Aunt Vivian.” Her face twisted like she was in pain, and she pulled the sleeves of her sweater over her hands and clutched the fabric.
