Alone in the dining room, Avaline stood. One by one, she stacked the used dishes. Lottie rushed to her side.
"My lady, let me," the maid pleaded.
"Aren't you supposed to keep an eye on the back door?" Avaline teased.
"My lady, you know I can't refuse."
"Don't worry about it. I won't cause any more trouble."
Avaline glanced around and leaned closer to Lottie. "Did I receive any messages?"
Lottie shook her head.
Trying not to be upset, Avaline cleared the dining table. They loaded the dishes into the trolley and took them into the kitchen. Marco was in the middle of cleaning the kitchen when they walked in. The burly man had worked for the family since the previous generation. Marco and the previous Lord Stark had served together in their younger years.
"You should leave that to us," Marco scolded Avaline.
He wiped his hands on his apron before grabbing the trolley from Avaline's hands.
"I can't let you do all the work," she told him.
"Away with you," he said. "You're busy as it is."
With both of their urgings, Avaline left the kitchen. At the doorway, she turned back. The kitchen could easily accommodate more help. He shouldn't have to be the one doing all the preparing and cooking. With guilt under her step, Avaline walked back into the main foyer. On the way to the stairs, light under Charles's office door spilled into the hallway. Would he want to talk to her?
Taking a deep breath, Avaline walked up to the door and knocked.
"It's me, Ava," she called out. "A-are you done with your dinner?"
"Leave it," he said.
That answered that question.
"Good night," she told him before walking away.
With heavy steps, Avaline walked through the rest of the house. She scratched her fingernail. If Lord Nightingale hadn't replied, did that mean he didn't get her letter? Long accustomed to walking in the dark, Avaline meandered through the halls of a too-silent house.
Avaline turned the corner and walked toward the door at the end of the hall. She hadn't been in the garden since they had to let their gardener go. It was no longer safe for the children to go out and play. The unruly grass might hold dangers.
Regardless, Avaline stepped outside. A dusty awning spread over her head toward the small greenhouse her mother had so carefully cared for, until now.
The hedges to her left had been trimmed just enough so that their branches wouldn't stick out. The garden was to her right. The shrubs had overgrown, and there weren't any flowers in sight. The air had turned muggy, but had kept a slight chill. Avaline walked on the stone path. Long grass brushed against the hem of her skirt. Raindrops soaked into the fabric.
The path dipped. Avaline stumbled. Her eyes widened. Her arms flailed around in the air. Avaline took a few steps and righted herself. Placing her hand on her chest, Avaline took a deep breath. Her pulse raced. If she had fallen...
"My lady, are you alright?"
Avaline's back stiffened. She swirled around. Except for her, the garden was empty. Her face burned. Had someone seen her?
"Wh-who is it?" she demanded. "Lottie? Peter?"
Long shadows stretched across the ground. Weak moonlight illuminated patches on the ground. Avaline's breathing hitched.
"Forgive me. It is I, Lord Nightingale, Lady Stark."
Avaline's shoulders hunched. Then, her stomach clenched. What was he doing here? If someone saw him...yet, a bubble of excitement nearly burst in her chest. He had come to see her.
Pressing her lips together, Avaline traveled the rest of the stone, lifting her skirt, toward the gate at the other end of the garden.
"Lord Nightingale?" she asked.
"Yes, my lady. Pardon the intrusion."
Avaline glanced back at the house. While curtains were drawn, Charles's office overlooked the garden. If he were to look outside, he would see her.
"To what do I owe this visit?" she asked. "It's..." Not proper. Meeting a man after dark...if anyone found out, it would be disastrous.
Avaline leaned closer to the gate. The wood had worn out, but it was sturdy enough to prevent anyone from breaking it.
"I, I was worried."
Avaline bit her bottom lip. Worried? Why would he possibly be worried for? They weren't simply employer and employee. She shivered. Even if his actions surprised her...Avaline unlocked the gate and opened it.
A dark shadow stood outside. Avaline clenched her teeth, fear striking her.
"Lady Stark?"
Avaline looked away, breathing heavily. She gripped her skirt tightly. Lord Nightingale was wrapped in darkness. If she hadn't been speaking to him, she wouldn't have guessed it was him.
The shadows fell from Lord Nightingale's face. His lips were pinched, and his brow furrowed.
"Forgive me for frightening you," he began.
Taking a deep breath, Avaline glanced out at the street before pulling Lord Nightingale inside the gate. She closed it and leaned her forehead against the wood. What was she doing? Why was she breaking etiquette? He broke it first, said a voice in her head. That's right. It's not my fault.
Avaline swirled around. "Lord Nightingale, explain yourself. This could cause misunderstandings."
The blood-born lord bowed. His silver shone under the moonlight as it fell over his shoulder. Pretty. She shook her head. Stop it.
"Forgive me, Lady Stark." He fiddled with his jabot tie. "I received your message and found myself concerned."
Avaline crossed her arms. This wasn't what she had expected. Why would he be concerned? Could it be-? No.
"I don't believe we are close acquaintances for that," she said.
"I, I-it was Delilah," he said. "When I told her you wouldn't be visiting, she was saddened." He cleared his throat. "She insisted I pay a visit."
Avaline rubbed her arms. "That was kind of her," she said, "though improper for you to come out due to that. What of Belle? Could she not have delivered Lady Delilah's concern?"
Lord Nightingale bowed. "You are correct, Lady Stark. It seems I've spoiled my sister. Please don't feel angered at her."
Avaline stared. Angry? At Delilah? She looked away. She was quite crossed, no need to deny it. Upset? Why? The breach of etiquette? If Avaline minded, she would have sent him back immediately. So, why hadn't she?
Something - a coat, Avaline later realized - fell upon her shoulders. Quizzingly, she looked at Lord Nightingale.
"Pardon my boldness," he said. "I hope I didn't cross a line. I cannot allow a lady to be out here without a coat."
"I appreciate your thoughtfulness," she whispered.
When she pulled his coat tighter, his scent swirled around her nose. Yes, this is why. Frowning, Avaline stared at Lord Nightingale. She was upset because she didn't know what he wanted from her. Why was he being so considerate now? He was thoughtful, and he kept crossing the line. Why did he have to confuse her? What did he want from her?
Avaline cleared her throat. "Please tell Delilah that I am well. Thank her for me, but please keep in mind this cannot happen again. It wouldn't be good for..." You. "...either of our reputations."
Lord Nightingale bowed. "Yes, I will keep that in mind."
Avaline opened the gate for him. "Please be well on your way home."
As soon as he stepped outside, Avaline closed the gate and locked it. Without a backward glance, she quickly returned inside. No one could ever know what she'd been up to.
***
In the safety of the shadows, Lord Nightingale walked the length of the road toward his carriage. As soon as he was inside, Thomas, the coachman, took him home. With a sigh, Sebastian pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Am I out of my mind?" he scolded himself.
He had no right to visit Ava - no, Lady Stark, without an invitation. What had gotten into him? He hadn't lied when he told her Delilah had wanted him to personally visit her. But he knew better. Had the war dulled his common sense?
Receiving Lady Stark's letter had perturbed him. She had easily accepted the position as governess and now...she couldn't attend? The nerve. Was his rank so low that anyone could easily abandon their post?
"That must be it," he said.
The carriage jostled slightly. Sebastian leaned back against the cushions.
It was curiosity. That was why he had to visit Lady Stark. After all, hadn't she met with Delilah so easily? Had she entranced his sister to secure a position close to them? Was sleeping on his arm not enough? Sebastian wanted to see if Lady Stark had accomplished what she wanted before discarding them.
And yet...why had she looked like that? Why were her eyes full of melancholy? Were her shoulders always so small? She had looked resolute during the sermon, unbothered by the whispers and stares.
"It doesn't matter."
It couldn't matter. They weren't acquainted enough to warrant concern between them. Lady Stark was right to be upset. So, why did it bother him so much?