“Please, come back to the picnic,” he said eventually and extended a hand toward her. “I am sorry for what I said, but it came from a good place. I promise you that.”
“This is not like you.” She waved a hand in his direction.
“Very well.” He lowered his hand. “Come back to the picnic, Dorotheo, or I shall carry you there.” He smiled a little as he spoke .
“You wouldn’t dare.” She narrowed her eyes at him, waiting to see what he would do next.
“We have one wager already. Would you like another?”
They stared at one another, nothing but the trees rustling between them, and then he suddenly stepped toward her.
“No!” she cried and then ran back down the hill, laughing. “I’d like to see you try to catch me first.”
“One of these days, I will.”
“You’ve never been as fast a runner as me,” she called back.
“You have no idea how wrong you are.” He raced behind her, back toward the path.
“Of course. You would never run at full speed, would you?” she called over her shoulder, laughing again. “God forbid you might fall and end up with dirt on that nice coat of yours!”
Dorothy wasn’t sure how she had ended up laughing. Somehow, the air had changed between them. She’d gone from feeling hurt to hearing his apology with surprise, and now laughter. When she landed back on the path and he jumped behind her, there was a look of distinct satisfaction on his face.
“Why do I get the feeling you have just won one of our arguments?”
“I haven’t won,” he said simply with a shrug, “but I have succeeded where I haven’t before. Clearly, to get you to do anything, I simply must provoke you.”
“That is not true.” Dorothy walked back toward the picnic. When it came into view, Lord Chilmond waved at her, beckoning her toward him. She hurried to sit beside him, where he offered her another sandwich and spoke of how glad he was that she was back.
When Dorothy glanced at Stephen as he, too, returned to his seat, she was surprised to see he was no longer smiling.
What happened? Why does he look so angry again?
CHAPTERSEVEN
“There, you have won again, My Lady,” Stephen said to Lady Frederica as the candlelight nearby shone on her golden hair. “You are good at this game.”
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Lady Frederica was meeting his eyes much more now as they walked, but unfortunately, she still didn’t return the flirtation. Stephen wasn’t sure if it was a sign that she simply wasn’t interested in him, or if she was too nervous to attempt such flirtation herself.
“Come on,” Dorothy said from the other side of the table with a heavy huff. “We’ll never get through our card games tonight if you just keep exchanging compliments.” She took the cards out of Stephen’s hands and shuffled them together. “Now, what do you say to cribbage, Lady Frederica?”
Lady Frederica nodded, and Dorothy dealt out the cards.
Stephen looked around the room. Everyone had broken off into groups to play cards or talk, lounging by the fire. Most people were tired after their walk and picnic today, and the warm orange light of the fire and candles was having a subdued effect on everyone in the room.
Well, all except Dorothy, who seemed to have as much energy as ever.
As she picked up her cards and made her crib, Stephen couldn’t help looking between her and Lady Frederica, comparing the two of them.
Lady Frederica placed her cards down calmly, with not a trace of a smile on her lips. In contrast, Dorothy looked happy, practically bobbing in her chair. When Stephen’s eyes lingered on Dorothy too long, particularly on a wild brown curl that had escaped her updo, he had to force his attention away.
For some reason, he had idly imagined trailing his fingers through that lock and tucking it behind her ear so he could see her bright green eyes more clearly. The thought shocked him to his core.
“Do you often play cards, My Lady?” Stephen addressed Lady Frederica, clearing his throat as he attempted to concentrate on her.
“Yes, quite often.”
