Declan knew that he was being a bit too pliant, but the thought of holding onto the teacup against Miss Farris' wishes felt impossible. He was a guest here, after all — and if being a guest meant that he would have to try to fight back his own embarrassment while she dragged him around like a rag doll, then so be it. (This was what he was telling himself, because he — was distinctly stuck.)

He couldn't pull his wrist out of her hand, but he balled up his own hands with his discomfort. "You're sure he won't mind?" Declan asked, trying for wary even though his tone was still clearly just nervous. Wandering around the house with Miss Farris seemed like a terrible idea, and not just because his palms were sweating now that she was tugging him around.