Earl's Well That Ends Well (The Way to a Lord's Heart #5) - Jane Ashford Page 0,6

last time and immersed herself in the work. As usual, it occupied all her attention.

The theater provided bread and cheese and ale from a local inn around midday, which the workers supplemented with their own food. Most chose to eat in an oblong space behind the building, too rustic to be called a courtyard. It was rather a bit of ground left vacant when four buildings were constructed around it, a forgotten scrap of weedy grass. But the enclosure held the sun’s heat, and on an early spring day it was a pleasant place to sit. The artisans had painted country vistas on the blank walls, and someone had planted flowers and climbing vines. A motley collection of tables and chairs were scattered about.

Tom joined Teresa for the informal nuncheon, as he often did, and she was glad. She couldn’t remember when she’d met anyone easier to be friends with. He was so generally cheerful and interested in nearly any topic one could name. Surprisingly informed sometimes as well, considering the unfortunate life history he’d confided. Teresa sipped at the ale, preferring it to the thin, sour wine that could also be obtained. She knew where to procure good Spanish vintages when she wished to indulge, which was very seldom. She despised drunkenness and the disasters that came with it.

“This new play’s got camels in it,” Tom said.

“Does it?”

“A caravan from the mysterious East,” he intoned. Tom read all the plays they worked on, and he often had comments about the stories. “You ever seen a camel?”

“Never. Except in pictures.”

He nodded. “You reckon they’ll dress up some actors? Front and rear, like they done for the elephant last month?”

“I suppose so. If they have the costumes.”

“Huh. They’d need a few more this time. How many camels in a caravan, do you think?”

“An actual one? Many, according to paintings I’ve seen.”

Tom nodded. “Might need a deal of players then. I reckon I could be a camel.” He grinned. “Leastways the back part.”

Teresa laughed as he bit off a large hunk of bread and cheese.

“Mebbe I’ll ask if I can,” Tom added when he’d swallowed.

“Why not? I expect you’d be good at it.”

“You ever wanted to be up on the stage, ’stead of just painting for it?”

She hid a shudder. “Never.” The thought of all those people staring at her—ogling—was repellent.

“His lordship says it never hurts to try a thing. If you don’t like it, no need to go on.”

The advice of a man who had always had free choices, Teresa thought. Typical of the aristocrats’ view that the world belonged to them, to pick and choose as they pleased. But here was the opportunity she’d been looking for. “How did you come to know an earl?” she asked.

“I was walking south from Bristol when I came on a little boy running away from home,” Tom replied.

As he told the story of meeting Lord Macklin and traveling with him for some months, Teresa watched Tom’s face. This earl seemed to have treated the lad well, at least as far as Tom could see. There might well have been slights he didn’t notice, since Tom always seemed to expect the best. Clearly, he admired the older man. It didn’t occur to Tom that he had been a mere amusement, used to alleviate aristocratic boredom and continually at risk of being cast off. He had been fortunate; he’d found his own way out. Still, she felt protective. “People of that class put their own whims above all else,” she said.

“Class?” asked Tom.

“The nobility.”

He looked back at her with the acuity that flashed in his blue eyes at unexpected moments. “I ain’t seen that, but I reckon you would know better than me.”

“What do you mean?” She heard the sharpness in her voice.

“Well, I would have said you were nobility yourself, señora. Begging your pardon.”

“Don’t be silly.” She looked away. This was not a subject she would discuss. She wished she’d never mentioned this earl, particularly since it seemed there was no need to warn Tom off him.

“Lord Macklin’s coming by next week,” said Tom. “I told him about that thunder machine we’re building, and he wanted to see it.”

This was not good news. “Which day?” Teresa asked.

Tom gave her a sidelong look. “He wasn’t sure. He has lots to do.”

Or, he was an earl and saw no need to consider others. He would come when he pleased, and the rest of them must adjust. Well, she would avoid him. She could do that now.