Page 57 of Aurelia

“Why would you say that?”

“Because it is true. You are fibbing,” she accused, skipping alongside Aurelia like a girl of ten rather than fifteen. “It is impossible to like everyone equally. Everyone chooses. Everyone has a favorite,” she said, the last words grim.

“I love them all equally, but I suppose it is true that I spend more time with Phoebe.”

“Why?”

“Phoebe is restful and kind and she is always taking care of everyone.”

“Even more than you?”

“I don’t take care of everyone.”

“You try to. You get angry that my father doesn’t like me—I have seen it on your face.”

Aurelia was shocked—both that the girl had noticed and that Lady Celsa believed her own father did not like her.

“And if you chide me for speaking the truth, then I shall leave right now,” Celsa threatened, evidently forgetting that she was the one who had begged to come along.

But Aurelia did not want to hurt the girl, so she considered her next words very carefully. “I think your father gets annoyed by your behavior and allows his irritation to influence his treatment of you.”

Celsa stopped and set a hand on Aurelia’s arm to stop her. “But beneath that—beneath his annoyance—he hates me. Doesn’t he?” The pain in the girl’s dark brown eyes made Aurelia’s chest hurt.

“You are asking my opinion,” Aurelia reminded her. Celsa nodded. “Then I’ll tell you what I think: he does not hate you.”

The relief that flashed in the girl’s eyes was heartbreaking.

Unfortunately, it was also short-lived. “If he doesn’t hate me then why doesn’t he want to spend time with me like he does with Guustin? Or—or even you!” Fury flared in her eyes. “And don’t try to look innocent and pretend you do not know what I mean. I have seen you riding with him. He likes you. He laughs and teases and—” She bit her lip, her stark, miserable profile facing Aurelia.

“My lady.”

“What?” Celsa snapped.

“This is just a suggestion, but—”

“But what?”

“Could you try not to antagonize him so much?”

Celsa swallowed hard, her eyes shimmering with tears. “You mean stop doing things to the Hatchet?”

Aurelia bit back a smile. “Yes. You could start with something easy—like calling her Miss Hatchet.”

Celsa gave her a watery smile. “That won’t be easy at all.”

“Perhaps not. But do try, my lady. Just… try.”

Celsa met her gaze, her jaw set mulishly. After a long moment, she gave an abrupt nod. “Very well. I will try. When he returns.”

“Try now, so that Miss Hatchet does not greet him at the pier with a list of infractions as long as her arm.” Although Aurelia suspected the woman probably already had a list twice as long.

“If I promise to try and be better, will you ride with me every day? Because you know that is the only way I’m allowed to ride,” she said, a wheedle in her voice. “I am much better behaved if I get to ride a few hours every day.”

It seemed churlish not to promise such a small thing. “Fine. We will ride every day—at least if the weather permits it.”

“Huzzah!” Celsa cried.

Aurelia’s smile faded as Celsa skipped ahead of her, leaping and jumping like a happy girl-child. She hoped that she had done the right thing by encouraging her to earn more positive attention by curtailing her tendency to mischief. But what if good behavior made no difference to the earl? What if—perish the thought—Lord Crewe truly did not like his own daughter?