Tenacious Love (Banished Saga, Book Four): Banished Saga, Book Four (22 page)

Gabriel groaned, rolling with her so she was underneath him and kissed her deeply. “I love you, Rissa. I always will.”

She kissed him again, easing the torment in his heart, helping him to forget the world outside their room for a few short hours.

Z
ylphia wandered
the formal sitting room, tracing a finger along the polished mahogany side tables before walking to a bookshelf, eyeing porcelain knickknacks, then moved to sit on a cushioned window seat. Sheer curtains covered the windows, allowing in a muted light from the front garden. The scent of late-season roses wafted inside, and she closed her eyes as she listened to the trilling of the songbirds.

“Five minutes. I will allow five more minutes,” she murmured to herself.

“Five more minutes for what?” a man with a deep voice asked, startling her from her musings as she jerked her head toward the doorway.

“To await the arrival of your mother for tea.” She frowned at Theodore Goff, dressed casually in faded gray pants, a wrinkled white linen shirt with a loosely knotted tie and a misbuttoned cranberry-colored waistcoat.

“You’ll be waiting longer than five minutes.” His sardonic smile eased her tension. “I spoke with the butler, and Mother’s out until she must return to change for a dinner function. Are you sure you are here on the correct day?”

“She wrote me a note inviting me to tea on October 27 to discuss her exciting ideas about the orphanage. As my mother is out of town, I believe your mother wished to speak with me.”

Teddy frowned. “I’m sorry, Zylphia. My mother is … impulsive at times. She must have received another invitation and forgot her desire to speak with you.”

Zylphia rose, her forest-green tea-dress settling at her ankles. “I have no wish to interrupt your afternoon, Mr. Go—Teddy. If you will excuse me …”

“Stay for tea with me?” he asked, flushing at his impulsive request. “I know it’s not entirely proper, but the house is filled with staff, and I’d hate for you to leave without having refreshments.” He motioned for her to sit again while moving to the hallway to speak with someone about a tea tray.

Teddy sat on a chair near hers, hooking his foot under a nearby table so the soon-to-arrive tray would be near them.

“I’ve heard your stories of being raised in England, but you don’t seem nearly proper enough,” Zylphia murmured.

Teddy flinched. “My mother despairs of me having proper manners. I know how to act when necessary, and I hope I won’t embarrass you with any unforgiveable faux pas.”

Zylphia laughed. “I must admit that I’m always afraid I’ll say or do something wrong, so not having to worry that I’ll stir my tea in an inappropriate manner is a relief.”

He watched her with a warm light in his eyes. “Is there an improper way to stir tea?”

“Yes, and I’ve done it.”

Teddy laughed, relaxing into his chair as the tea was delivered. He motioned to the table in front of them and indicated with a nod of his head for the maid to leave.

“I find it impressive how well you communicate without speaking,” Zylphia said as she poured them each a cup. He nodded as she held up the sugar, holding up his hand to indicate enough after two cubes had been added.

“I am known as the absentminded inventor who locks himself away in his laboratory. I wouldn’t want to waste words if I don’t have to.”

Zylphia held her teacup halfway to her lips, studying him, as if to decipher if he were in earnest. “Even scientists must need to communicate.”

He shrugged.

Zylphia took a sip of tea, holding her cup by the handle in a dainty manner rather than cupping it in her hand. “My theory, if I were a scientist, would be that you act as you do to increase your mystique.”

He choked on a laugh, his eyes sparkling with merriment. “I fear you’ll find few who would agree with that theory.”

“But has anyone done their research?” She wriggled her eyebrows at him, smiling without guile and leaning forward.

He sobered as he watched her. “Is that how you see me? As a subject for research?” Any levity disappeared as he tensed, awaiting her response.

She stilled, belatedly realizing she’d offended him in some way. “Of course not. Forgive me.” She looked down at her now-clenched hand on her lap. “I often speak rashly, unwittingly causing distress with my comments.”

“Please do not concern yourself on my account, Zylphia.” He half smiled. “You don’t regret our agreement at the Wheeler ball that I am permitted to call you Zylphia in private?”

“Of course not. It means I can call you Teddy rather than Theodore.”

“I still think it would remind you of your former president.”

“I have no need to think of a president.” She laughed.

He watched her with a small smile. “You might, as you continue your crusade on behalf of women and universal suffrage.”

Zylphia watched him with an arrested expression.

“I’d like to think I could be of some help,” said Teddy. At Zylphia’s prolonged silence, he set his empty teacup on the table, the brief sense of camaraderie dissipating. “I don’t imagine you’d be interested in seeing my laboratory?”

“I would. Very much so.” Zylphia set down her cup and rose.

He stood, showing her the way to the hallway and stairs, which they took in silence. “The third floor is my domain,” he said as they reached the landing. “My parents didn’t have much use for it, and, when I returned from England, it was the perfect space for me. My private study is down there.” He pointed to a closed door at the end of the hall on the right.

He thrust open a door, ushering her into a space filled with tables covered in metal pieces, wires, nuts and bolts, and an assortment of tools.

“How do you know where everything is?” Zylphia asked as she took in the disorganized space. “I imagined it to be”—she waved her arm around—“tidier.” She wandered toward a desk near a window, a drawing pad with a pencil on top, its pages fluttering in the breeze.

“I imagine most people create best in an orderly environment. I thrive on chaos and clutter.”

“Well, you’ve succeeded here.” They shared a rueful smile. She walked from table to table, deciphering what made each table’s experiment different from the previous. She raised a confused gaze to his.

He walked to where she stood. “If you look closely, this wire is twisted three times while the one over there, four. I’m testing if that has any bearing on my project.”

“Have you noted any difference?”

“Not yet but I’m not done with my quality checks.”

She nodded and moved again toward his drawings. “Don’t you miss living in England?”

“No. Although I spent most of my youth there, I’ve spent enough time here to know this is where I want to be. Boston is my home now. I don’t feel guilty for having no desire to live in England. That is, until my grandparents visit.” He smiled with a distant look in his eyes.

“Why?”

He focused on her, his gray eyes penetrating and intense even through his wire-rimmed glasses, yet kindled with a gentle warmth as he met her curious stare. “Because they discuss the important familial antecedents, the inspiring feats performed by generations past, and it makes me wish, for an instant, I were that sort of person.”

“Rather than the sort who tinkers away in solitude in a lab.”

“It’s not all I do.” He smirked at her raised eyebrow. “I know they wish I’d return to England and perform some glorious deed to increase their sense of esteem among their peers.”

“You mean, fighting in duels and wars.” Zylphia crinkled her nose in disgust.

He laughed. “You think it’s unimportant, but those actions by men were as significant at the time as what your fellow suffragettes are currently doing in England. What you’d like to do here.” He raised an eyebrow, challenging her to disagree with him.

“I’d hardly call dueling and the struggle for universal suffrage remotely equal,” Zylphia scoffed.

“Maybe not to you but, to men, attacks on their honor or against those they love, are powerful motivators. Just as the desire to show women are deserving of the rights of full citizenship is a powerful motivator for many women now.”

“You’ve never sounded more English.”

“You’ve never sounded more scornful of the fact.” His delight faded as their discussion continued. “Zylphia, I’m not saying I agree in any way with warring or dueling, but I can understand what prompts a man to act as he does. Just as I’m beginning to understand what motivates you.”

Zylphia stilled in her movement around his laboratory. “No need to make me one of your experiments. I’m not that difficult to understand.”

“On the contrary.” He smiled, the tenderness in his gaze intended to soothe her. “You’re more intricate than any experiment I could fathom.”

“I don’t want to be viewed as something to be studied in a laboratory.” Her eyes flashed mutinously, her discomfort obvious.

“Just as I don’t wish to be seen as a pet project, only worthy of a report back to your friends.”

“Is that how you see me? That I only deign to show you interest because I see you as an oddity?”

He reached forward, clasping her shoulders, preventing her from spinning away and rushing through the open doorway. “No, of course not. Forgive me.” She stilled under the gentle caress of his fingers down her cheek. “I’d hoped we were friends.”

“I’ve been advised unmarried women of my class can’t be friends with men.”

He chuffed out a laugh. “Why would the two unconventional misfits of Boston society play by their rules?” His smile widened as she reluctantly grinned back. “Be my friend, Zylphia.”

“My friends call me Zee,” she whispered.

His body relaxed, and he released her. “Zee, I’m so glad we’re friends.”

“So am I.”

* * *

“
A
re
you certain Clarissa and Gabriel have reconciled?” Zylphia asked, curled in an oversize chair in the front parlor.

A gentle fire glowed in the fireplace, adding more warmth to the mint-green wallpaper. Thick cream-colored drapes covered the front windows. The ceiling was decorated with a mural of contented cherubs, and a thick oriental carpet covered the wooden floors.

“When I saw them in Washington, DC, in the spring, it seemed as though they’d never find peace again.” Her gaze roved over her parents, silently celebrating their presence in Boston on their return from Montana. Aidan held a tumbler of whiskey in one hand, his other stroking Delia’s fingers as they settled into a comfortable settee.

Aidan sighed, stretching his long legs toward the warmth of the coal fire. “Ask you mother, but I believe all is finally well in Montana.”

Delia nodded her agreement.

“At last I felt it was time to come home. We’d left you alone long enough. We were saddened to miss the first anniversary of Rory’s death, but we wanted to return home before any inclement weather impeded train travel.”

“I was fine, Father. I had my adventure in Newport, and I’ve continued my other activities.”

“I’m certain Sophie has kept you busy,” Delia said with a smile.

A pounding on the door interrupted their conversation. Aidan glanced first to Delia and then Zylphia before rising with a sigh. “I’m afraid our butler is too busy flirting with the maid to be of much use right now.”

“Aidan, don’t be too hard on him,” Delia pled. “He’s still learning the role, and he’s terrified of being sent back to the orphanage.”

“I know. And I’d never turn him out,” Aidan said with a frustrated sigh. “If he could have served under our previous butler for a while, I think that would have been more suitable.” Aidan strode from the room, a faint light from a wall sconce casting shadows on the carpet as he approached the front door.

He wrenched open the door, a glower already on his face for the person interrupting his reunion with his daughter. “Yes,” he snapped.

“Uncle,” Richard said. “Thank God you’re home.” He stood, swaying in front of Aidan, pale and shaking as though he were in the throes of shock.

“Richard.” Aidan pulled him into the warmth of the large foyer before clasping him momentarily into a strong embrace. “Are you all right? No, I can see you’re not.” He swung an arm around his shoulder and propelled him into the front parlor with Delia and Zee.

“Richard,” Zylphia said as he entered. “How lovely to see you.”

Delia studied his swaying form for a moment before sharing a silent look with Aidan. When Richard collapsed into a chair next to Zylphia, Delia asked, “Is it Florence? Or the children?”

“Yes. No,” Richard said. “Forgive me.” He paused, glancing at them all for a moment. “The children are fine. They are with our wonderful neighbor, who acts like their grandmother.”

“Yes, Mrs. O’Connell,” Delia murmured.

“Florence had the baby today,” Richard whispered.

Rather than shouting exclamations of joy, Delia tensed, while Zylphia frowned, and Aidan stood at attention, as though waiting to learn what was needed from him.

“She’s always so valiant when it’s her time.”

Zylphia reached over and grasped his hand, giving quiet solace. “It’s all right, Richard.”

“They wouldn’t let me see her. Florence didn’t really want me there, and, by the time I arrived from the smithy, she was already far along.” He let out a stuttering exhalation. “Our little girl never took a breath. She was born …”

“Oh, no,” Zylphia whispered, tears coursing down her cheeks.