sentence and turned it toward Andrew.
You can tell us anything.
Andrew’s eyes darkened. He scuffed his feet across the rug.
Sebastian hesitated, loath to drive the boy away but also wanting to assuage Clara’s hurt. He held out the pencil to Andrew in invitation.
For a moment, he thought Andrew might accept the offer of communication, but Andrew gestured to the door leading to the foyer.
“Shall we try the balloons again?” Sebastian asked. “Now that we have two, we can have races.”
Andrew shook his head and gestured to the foyer again. Sebastian set the pencil and paper aside. He would try again later.
He followed Andrew to the kitchen, where they had worked on preparing and varnishing the balloons. They had also constructed a wooden frame crossed with wires that supported a spindle.
From beside the wall, Andrew retrieved a large wheel constructed of paper and indicated to Sebastian that the paint was dry. The boy had spent most of the morning painting and decorating it with several spiral designs, and now they attached it to the spindle. The paper wheel was further embellished with a pattern of small holes, which they had punched with a dowel.
Sebastian and Andrew fitted the wheel to the spindle and tested the mechanism. After ensuring that all the wires were tight, Sebastian carried the frame into the drawing room and set it before the fire—close enough to achieve the effects of the light, but not close enough to set the paper aflame. He stepped back.
“All right, then. Give it a try.”
Andrew held up both hands in the gesture Sebastian had learned to interpret as “Wait a moment.” The boy then scurried from the room, returning a few minutes later with a perplexed Clara in tow.
A smile broke loose from Sebastian’s heart. Clara cast him a questioning glance before she saw the paper wheel.
“Did you make this?” she asked Andrew. “It’s beautiful.”
Andrew motioned toward a chair in front of the wheel. Clara sat, shifting her gaze to her son. A guarded hope appeared in her eyes as she realized that Andrew had invited her here to demonstrate their new creation.
Sebastian moved to stand beside her, nodding at Andrew to conduct the performance. Almost vibrating with anticipation, Andrew went to the wheel and took hold of the spindle.
With a few hard twists, he set the paper wheel spinning into a kaleidoscope of colors. Firelight flickered and leapt through the pattern of holes, sparking with every rotation of the wheel. The paint shimmered and gleamed under the illumination until the wheel became a blur of colors and light.
“Oh, how lovely!” Clara clapped, charmed by the display. She glanced at Sebastian. “How on earth did you conceive of this?”
“My brothers and I used to make them when our governess banned us from making real fireworks. Talia usually decorated the wheels, and the rest of us tried to devise ever more dangerous ways to enhance the effects of the light. Andrew did this one almost entirely on his own.”
“Andrew, it’s brilliant! It’s like watching a spinning rainbow. On fire, no less. I’ve never seen anything like it. Do it again, would you?”
Andrew rotated the wheel faster, creating another fireworks display. Then he and Sebastian showed Clara how the mechanism was constructed, with Andrew pointing out the various parts and Sebastian explaining how they worked.
“I’m astonished. I love it.” Clara squeezed Andrew’s shoulder and started to lean in to embrace him. Then a shadow of wariness crossed her features, and she straightened. “Thank you for showing it to me.”
Andrew nudged the frame away from the fire. Clara slipped her hand into Sebastian’s.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “If it weren’t for you…”
Some of Sebastian’s tension faded with the trailing off of her voice. He tightened his hand on hers, then went to help Andrew situate the frame near the wall.
“Shall we try our balloon races before lunch?” he asked, glancing out the window. “No rain appears forthcoming.”
Andrew nodded. He looked at his mother. Clara twisted a fold of her skirt.
“Will you accompany us?” Sebastian asked.
“I’d be delighted.” She kept her attention on her son, her wariness fading beneath a growing hope. “I can ask Mrs. Danvers to pack us a picnic.”
Andrew smiled.
Chapter Twenty-One
Clara shaded her eyes from the glare of the sun as she watched a carriage make its way up the drive. Sebastian had arranged for transportation to the train station at four o’clock, but it was too early for the vehicle to arrive. Apprehension flared in her chest at the realization that someone was invading