Faces of the Wind

Chapter 33

"Tea?" Hazel asked, raising her brows and smiling broadly.

"You thought you could fool the master of mischief," Adrian winked, smiling weakly, "your smile makes your disguise a total waste of time and effort." He was now in better spirits, and while she filled the kettle with water, he gave her place a swift scan. It was as small as his but cheerful and warm. There were flowers in vases, floral curtains over the window and doilies on the backs of the two maroon armchairs. He pulled a wooden chair and sat down.

"Hazel," he said, as if to himself, watching her place the kettle on the small stove, "stupid name. I prefer Arden."

"Confound me!" She cried in mock dismay, turning to look at him with raised brows and eyes so wide, "I should have consulted with you before changing my name." She turned to fetch a jar of biscuits from a mantelshelf. "Well, I suppose I'll just have to live in eternal damnation." She opened the jar and placed it in front of him.

"Haha!" Unamused by her sarcasm, he took a biscuit and bit half of it. It was made of two biscuits separated by a layer of apricot jam. "How do you find your new life?" Finding comfort in the sweet flavor, he shoved the remaining half of the biscuit into his mouth, "And if you don't mind disclosing how you managed to abandon Steventon and wind up here."

"I dare not claim my life now is perfect, but I enjoy the liberty and the occupation," she placed two large cups on the table and sat opposite to Adrian, waiting for the tea to brew. "Had we been in Steventon, I wouldn't have a house all to my own unless I was an old widow who can scarce hear or see, and it would've scandalized the county to invite a rascal like you to tea—unchaperoned, that is."

"Well..." he took another biscuit, "I don't remember you being often chaperoned... nor proper."

"Society oppressed me... and my father's inability to think for himself and form his own judgments was very stifling."

"I wish my father loved me as much as yours loved you," he said, separating the two biscuit layers and licking the jam before he stuffed one of them in his mouth.

"I'd rather you occupy your mouth with biscuits," she rose from her chair to finish making the tea and he watched her. She was remarkably slimmer than when they last met, but it suited her and made her look younger.

"I loved my liberty at first, but the fun only lasted a few hours. Now I don't have the time nor the vigor to enjoy it." He looked at her hands as she poured tea into the cups. These were no longer the hands of a lady. "Will you not tell me what happened?"

She told him.

He laughed himself to tears and Hazel put her cup down and stared at him, unsure what she felt. He met her stare and immediately stopped laughing.

"I am very glad you find my dilemma so amusing," she said, her tone steady but some venom began to seep into her blood, "my parents have been preparing me since early childhood to keep you entertained; they must be very proud now that I've fulfilled my mission."

"Every time I looked at you, I knew one day you'd get locked up in some madhouse," he suppressed a giggle but part of it escaped his lips. He looked like a boy with his face blushed and creased, struggling to muffle his impish giggles. Deep crow's feet puckered the corners of his eyes.

To suppress a smile, Hazel lifted her cup to her lips. After a couple of sips, she asked, "And why is that?"

"Are you seriously asking me that?"

"Uh-huh," she raised her brows and bobbed her head.

"Your odd sense of fashion, your eccentric opinions, your hysterical reactions, your exaggerated feelings, your temper, the awkward things you say, your bold behaviour, your unpredictable comebacks... I could go on forever. You were always so... wacky."