Free The Carousel Painter by Judith Miller

childishness.
    When she wound down long enough for me to get a word in, I didn’t hesitate. “I can see the bruise beneath your eye, but I want to know if you’ve suffered any other injuries, or if this was all a ploy to frighten me.”
    She pointed to the empty cushion on the settee. “Sit down here,” she said before turning toward Tyson. “Would you be so kind as to go to the kitchen and ask Frances to fetch me a wet compress for my eye?”
    “Yes, of course. Anything else? A cup of water or perhaps some tea?” The questions slipped from his tongue like warm molasses.
    I thought Augusta would swoon at his sticky-sweet offer. She gazed at Tyson like an adoring schoolgirl. Granted, he did possess the piercing blue eyes she’d so often mentioned, but I also detected an icy aloofness that caused a cold chill to spiral down my spine. I wanted to nudge her from her state of silliness, but I remained silent until Tyson strode off toward the kitchen.
    “What are you doing?” I hissed. “I can already see that he’s counting you as his latest conquest.” I wrinkled my nose in disgust. “If he’d ever harbored any doubt of your affection, your fawning behavior has erased all doubt.”
    With a wave of her hand, Augusta silenced me. “We don’t have long until he returns. My body aches. Come morning, I imagine my back and legs will match the color beneath my eye. But I can use this to advantage. The Lilac Ball is the weekend after our housewarming. I want an invitation from Tyson.”
    I couldn’t believe my ears. Augusta was finagling for a dance partner while I worried she’d been maimed for life. I locked my fingers together and squeezed hard, or I might have considered wrapping them around Augusta’s neck.
    “You’re going to make a fool of yourself. And what is he doing here, anyway?”
    “I’m not certain. I think it must be providence.”
    She gave me one of those moony-eyed looks I’d seen earlier. If she weren’t injured, I’d be tempted to shake some sense into her. “I don’t like him. He has shifty eyes and a cold heart. And you’ve obviously forgotten we discussed him in Paris. You said he was rude and inconsiderate. I believe those are the words you used to describe him.”
    Augusta pulled back as though I’d landed a direct blow. “People change, you know. Besides, you don’t even know him.”
    “I know his kind.”
    Augusta tipped her head and sniffed. The picture she presented reminded me of her mother, and I cringed.
    “You don’t know any more about men than I do. I detect a genuine change in Tyson. He’s kindhearted and appealing.”
    At the sound of footfalls in the hallway, I leaned closer. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
    Tyson strode into the room carrying a bulging linen cloth in one hand and a towel draped across his arm. He looked like a waiter preparing to serve dinner. “I had Thomas chip some small pieces of ice from the block in your icebox,” he proudly announced. “I’ve had my share of black eyes, and ice works better than cold water. Keeps the swelling down.”
    I immediately surmised that any black eyes suffered by Tyson Farnsworth were due to his wretched behavior. I made a mental note to add that to the increasing list of reasons why I considered him a bad choice for Augusta. Who would want to pursue a man who boasts of black eyes and fisticuffs?
    Yet even that comment didn’t faze Augusta. When he applied the ice-filled cloth to her cheek, she placed her fingers over his hand and gave him a lopsided smile. My stomach clenched as I took in the scene. Something needed to be done to stop this nonsense.
    “I’m sure your arm is tired, Tyson. I’ll be glad to relieve you.” I reached to grasp the cloth, but Augusta clasped my wrist with her free hand.
    “I’m fine.” Tyson glanced over Augusta’s head and winked at me.
    My cheeks felt as though they’d been scorched by a hot poker. The gall of this man was beyond belief. He was a dishonorable