I faced him and signed handsome. Then, because my common sense had gone for tea, I signed tyrant.
His laugh escaped with sound this time: rough, low, startled. We both froze. I had never heard him laugh aloud; perhaps he had not heard himself either, because his hand went to his throat. For a second, grief crossed his face, then wonder.
I leaned closer. "Again."
He read the word on my mouth. Sebastian looked away. "I cannot summon it like a servant."
I folded my arms. "You are the Duke. You summon everything like a servant."
He gave me a look. I lifted both hands and signed handsome tyrant. He laughed again.
That was when Lady Portia opened the door.
The sound died at once, but the shape of it remained in the air. Lady Portia stared at Sebastian, then at me. "What is happening here?"
I curtsied. "Instruction, my lady."
Her eyes moved over my hands. "In what?"
Sebastian answered before I could: "Speech."
Lady Portia's face tightened at the sound of his voice; she preferred him written, still, and manageable. Lady Portia looked at me: "With a housemaid?"
Sebastian wrote without looking up: Miss Bell learns quickly.
Lady Portia smiled thinly. "That is precisely my concern."
Sebastian's face went blank, the public mask sliding down.
Lady Portia turned her attention to me: "Clara, Mrs. Kettle needs you below stairs."
That was false. Mrs. Kettle needed everyone always, but not in that tone.
Sebastian looked at me. The smallest movement of his fingers formed one sign: Wait.
So I waited.
Lady Portia saw my hesitation. "Did you not hear me?"
I nearly laughed at the unfairness of that question in that room. I kept my eyes down. "I heard, my lady."
Lady Portia pointed to the door. "Then go."
Sebastian lifted his slate, wrote quickly, and turned it toward Portia: She stays.
Lady Portia's smile became thin. "Sebastian, you must be careful. Servants mistake kindness for invitation."
He wrote again: So do relatives.
I looked down to hide my face. Lady Portia left without another word.