Pulling Strings - Theodore Nott

18. A gilded cage

Ophelia noticed the sudden change in Theodore's demeanour almost instantly.

His posture grew stiff, shoulders squared like he was bracing for impact. His face paled, stricken by something akin to pain, and his hands dropped quickly to rest in front of him, fingers intertwining tightly as if to steady himself. A muscle twitched in his jaw.

For her part, she didn't know how to react.

The last time she had seen Lord Nott had been at her engagement party and she couldn't say that she had any happy memories of it. Plus, she remembered feeling threatened by his sole presence, and his words. So, now seeing him in the flesh, in the chaos of the platform, was surreal.

She stole a look at Nott–Theodore, not his grandfather, and mirrored his posture, clasping her hands in front of her, trying to appear composed. She hoped that at least, she looked less tense.

It was a strange sight, it unnerved her to a point, the way that a simple person had so much power over another. But then she remembered her own attitude in front of her mother, and somehow she had a feeling that Theodore felt the same way with his grandfather. She would even dare to say, he had it worse.

She dragged her eyes away from him, to the floor. He didn't deserve her understanding.

"Grandfather," Theodore's voice sounded weak to her ears, a strange sound. She almost turned to him, almost let the surprise show on her face. "I–I didn't know you were coming."

Lord Nott's gaze remained fixed on his grandson, sharp and unyielding. Theodore barely lasted a second before he dropped his eyes again, unable to maintain eye contact.

"Clearly." Lord Nott replied, his lips curling ever so slightly in displeasure. His tone was mild, but there was a weight to it, an unspoken reprimand that made Theodore tense even more. She cursed herself when that hard stare shifted to her, instead. "I didn't think it was proper for our guest to be escorted by...elves." He scoffed. "Miss Selwyn," his eyes softened ever so slightly, at least enough for Ophelia not to be forced to lower her gaze. "How are you?"

The question threw her off. Not particularly because of its nature, being a pretty normal thing to ask, but because she didn't expect it from him.

"Um.." She cleared her throat, cursing herself for muttering. "I'm good, my Lord." She made a small bow with her head and had to fight the urge to frown at herself. What was she doing?

If Lord Nott found it weird, or amusing, his face didn't say.

"I trust that my grandson has been pleasant to you, thus far?"

At the mention of him, Theodore's head shot up, turning to her. Against her better judgement, she met his eyes. The look of him was something unusual, the vulnerability in his eyes a rare sight.

She remembered only one other time when she had so clearly looked at Theodore's pleading eyes. When he had asked her for help.

Shit.

She had almost decided on the train that she was no longer going to help him. So what if his grandfather found out that she didn't like him? Wasn't that something that it was better to come out now?

After all, Lord Nott didn't really expect for this engagement to be something she actually wants...right?

Yes, she had decided that Theodore didn't deserve her help. Not after the ki— Not after everything that had happened. He was a dick and she was done doing him any favours. That had been her final decision.

At least, that was what she thought until now.

She bit her bottom lip, anxious and feeling a weird feeling at the pit of her stomach. Theodore wouldn't stop looking at her, with those penetrating big eyes of his.