She explained that her uncle having encountered difficulties sending paintings from foreign lands was what had motivated her to work at the gallery in the first place. In a way, it was the main reason she worked there, so Giles could imagine why she would be upset that she didn’t get to arrange the painting’s delivery. However, he also got the sense that there was more to her disappointment than that.
“Don’t tell me Uncle arranged to have it delivered and insured himself?” she said.
“No, I made the arrangements this time,” Roche replied.
“You did?”
“I was sending something else anyway, so yes.” Roche apologized for his lack of communication, but from his tone and expression, it seemed there was more he wasn’t letting on about.
Giles’s eyes darted over the group. Hans’s eyes were oddly shifty, and his mouth was closed tight, but Fiona was so emotional she didn’t even notice. Ordinarily, Fiona gave off a strong, composed air, but in that moment, she looked young for her years. He found it both surprising and irksome.
Giles set his cup down, and Roche shot him a stiff smile. “Well, I know Reggie isn’t known for his tact, but he seemed to catch on to the fact that you’ve been very busy, Miss Fiona.”
“Um…yes?”
“He probably didn’t want to ask you to handle the job, lest it interfere with your courtship,” Roche said meaningfully, glancing back and forth between Fiona and Giles.
Fiona gasped and snapped her mouth shut, grasping his meaning. She had confided in Reginald by letter about her father’s plan to marry her to Norman. Her uncle had promised to be her ally after her engagement announcement was postponed, so she had updated him on the situation with Giles when he asked.
She looked around the room. When she saw old, familiar Hans nodding in understanding, Fiona’s hands shot to her face.
But, Uncle, you never used to concern yourself with this sort of thing! He tended to do his own thing with absolute disregard for the other people in his life. She hadn’t thought him capable of being so considerate.
“Oh dear, I feel so ashamed. I’m sorry I snapped at you, Mr. Roche.”
“Now, now, I don’t mind, Miss. I let you handle all sorts of other tasks here, and Dennis helped me.”
Despite Roche’s assurance that he wasn’t offended, Fiona kept her hands over her face as she plopped back into her seat; the flames of shame from letting herself get carried away refused to subside. She peered through the cracks in her fingers and met Giles’s gaze. The light in his grayish-blue eyes seemed harsh to her, but Fiona didn’t have the fortitude in that moment to wonder why.
“P-pardon me for carrying on so. I, um…”
“It’s all right, Fiona. I can tell you really wanted to help your uncle,” Giles said.
His words brought her sudden clarity of mind. That’s right, she thought. That’s what made me lose it. I felt like my uncle no longer needed me. All her clerical work at the gallery was the same, but when her uncle chose not to ask for her help, it made her feel like he didn’t need her anymore.
“Yes, you’re right,” she said slowly. “I guess I really did want to help.”
Relationships went both ways. If one of the people involved wanted or needed more than the other, it couldn’t last. Fiona knew this, yet it felt as if the person she had admired all her life had rejected her, and it hurt.
The waves of emotion in Fiona’s heart gradually subsided, and Roche spoke again. “I’ll let you know the minute the painting arrives.”
“Thanks,” she said weakly.
“Don’t worry, you will be the one to unwrap it. That’s still your job.”
“All right, thanks.” She nodded. There was still a stiffness in her voice, but she had finally calmed down.
Her uncle disliked annoyances and hated beating around the bush. If he no longer wanted Fiona’s help, he would have told her so directly. She admonished herself for letting that slip from her mind.
“I didn’t realize you felt so strongly about arranging all his shipments. Reggie is a lucky man to be loved so deeply by you, Miss Fiona.”
“Mr. Roche?”
“That’s right,” Hans said. “I remember that when you were a little girl, you’d often say, ‘When I grow up, I’m gonna marry Uncle!’”
“H-Hans?”
“Master was most upset when he heard about that. Said he’s your own father and you never said that about him.”
“Ha ha ha! I can picture it now,” Roche chuckled.
“But that all happened ages ago!”
With Roche and Hans laughing it up over times gone by, Fiona once again felt out of place. Her hand wandered aimlessly in the air until another hand grabbed it firmly. Surprised, she turned to the side and found a smile sculpted on a marble-like face.
“Lord Giles?”
“Godmother’s probably wondering where you are. Let’s head back before it gets late.”
His expression was absent of warmth, just like the day they met. Fiona had no other response but to nod silently. Barely missing a beat, Giles stood up, leading Fiona by the hand. She made her flustered goodbyes and headed with him to the door.
Only then did Rudolph, who had been quietly stuffing his cheeks with sweets, finally speak. “Huh. Somebody’s jealous.”
“R-Rudy! C’mere, you!”
“No rest for the clever, eh—urgrah!”
Despite Dennis’s frantic attempt to shut Rudolph’s mouth, Giles and Fiona had heard Rudolph loud and clear. Fiona turned around, her eyes wide with horror. Roche gave her a playful shrug of his shoulders, and there was a sideways smirk on Dennis’s flustered face. As for Hans, he looked sharply to the side, just as he had the first day he and Fiona visited the Bancroft mansion together.
“Um, are you…”
Fiona’s gaze wandered up Giles’s arm to his face—and he looked away. Unless she was mistaken, though, his ears were crimson. Fiona’s heart slammed against her chest.
There was a long pause. Then Giles said curtly, “We’re going.”
“A-all right.”
Without giving each other so much as another glance, they headed home.