That anger curled even more when he saw Lord Chilmond wink at Dorothy.
“Perhaps you will find such a partner in crime someday,” the Viscount whispered to her.
A heat of fury shot through Stephen as his eyes flitted to Dorothy, seeing her blush at the words.
I have to get her away from him.
“I think your brother would agree with me that you are being childish in your attitude toward marriage.” The words were out of Stephen’s mouth before he could stop them.
Fortunately for him, half the group had moved on in their conversation, so the only people who heard him were Dorothy, Lord Chilmond, Lady Charlotte, and Lady Frederica.
“Childish?” Dorothy repeated, jerking her head toward him. She stared at him, unblinking.
“Not everyone falls in love when they marry. You need to grow up and accept that, Dorotheo.”
“Dorotheo? What sort of name is that?” Lady Charlotte asked with a laugh.
Stephen knew he had gone too far. Had they been alone and arguing, Dorothy would have taken such words on the chin and smiled, holding her head high. But in front of others, she had not. Her face flushed a brighter red than Lady Frederica’s.
“It is his foolish name for me.” Dorothy moved to her feet at once, dislodging the sandwich that had been in her lap. In her haste, she nearly fell over but managed to steady herself. “He thinks me like a man, too,” she muttered, her blush running down her neck. “He thinks ill of me. In fact, I’m not sure he has anything good to say about me at all. If you would excuse me, I need a walk.”
With these final words, she flounced away from the picnic and marched through the trees.
I should have held my tongue.
The thought cut deep as Stephen watched her walk away.
CHAPTERSIX
“How dare he?” Dorothy swiped away the nearest branches of a sycamore tree as she hurried away, determined to put as much distance between her and the picnic as possible. “The great fool, the great, arrogant imbecile!”
She marched on as quickly as she could. When the hem of her gown became tangled in nearby brambles, she pulled at it sharply, ripping her skirt in the process.
Well, there’s another reason for him to disapprove of me.
She tore the hem away sharply and walked on again, down the hill a little and across a path through the trees so no one would be able to see her. Glancing back, she saw that the thicket of sycamore and oak trees separated them now, the new green leaves in spring providing thick cover. To her dismay, the trees were not the only thing she saw.
Between those trunks, someone was marching after her. Stephen was following her.
“Oh! You proud man,” she muttered again, turning on her heel and walking away as quickly as she could.
Knowing that Stephen was meticulous about not dirtying his suit, she abandoned the path entirely. She reached for a rocky outcrop in the hill, hitched her skirts around her knees, and began to climb.
“Dorothy!” Stephen snapped, calling to her. “For God’s sake, lower your skirts. What if someone saw you?”
She looked down but could see that only her ankles were showing. She merely shot him a glare and clambered on, moving up the rocks.
“Dorothy? Come back. Let me talk to you, at least.” Stephen came to a halt at the bottom of the rocks, his hessian boots, so highly polished that he must have been able to see his reflection in them, firmly set in the ground.
Dorothy settled herself a good deal higher than him, with roughly six great boulders separating them. Smiling with satisfaction, she sat on the top rock and folded her arms, flicking back the loose ribbons of her bonnet.
“What are you doing?” he huffed, halting with his hands on his hips.
“You will not follow me up here, I know that.” She shrugged. “So, I intend to stay here all day if I must, just to escape you.”
“Look, what I said—”
“Please, don’t say anymore,” she cut in sharply.
