“You have just heard how it sounded, have you not?” She mirrored his stance, her hands on her hips.
“Perhaps.” He grimaced. “Let me try this another way.” He stepped toward her, his hands pressed together in a pleading motion. “Dorotheo, please, come inside.”
Strangely, it was the first time his name for her hadn’t felt like an insult. If anything, it sounded almost… intimate.
This is just a trick of my imagination.
Dorothy looked away from his gaze, her mind dwelling on what he had said the day before about how he had been out of his senses to even consider trying to kiss her the other night.
There is nothing intimate between us. Nothing on his part.
“I cannot sleep,” she said in a rush, still avoiding looking him in the eye. “Walking helps me clear my mind. It always has.” She sighed heavily. “I will go inside, but first, I shall finish my walk.”
She stepped around him once more and resumed her walk, this time leaving the knot garden and heading to the forest.
A few seconds of quiet followed, the only sounds were Dorothy’s footsteps on the gravel path and a distant owl hoot. Suddenly, the air was disturbed by more footsteps, much quicker than hers. She whipped her head around as she reached the trees, finding Stephen running to keep up with her.
“What are you doing?”
“Escorting you,” he whispered. “If Allan finds out I let you walk alone at night, he’ll kill me.”
She said nothing and looked ahead, walking again and doing her best to ignore him. He followed her, falling into step beside her. For a few minutes, they said nothing and just entered the cover of the trees. With the moonlight so bright, she could see between the branches enough to make her way, though she heard Stephen occasionally scuff dirt and wipe his clothes as if he was worried what dirt would be on them.
“If you worry about propriety so much, why did you come out for a walk?” she asked, keeping her voice level and trying not to betray her curiosity.
“Like you, I could not sleep.” He stared ahead at the branches. The moonlight bounced off his clean-shaven jaw and bright blue eyes in such a way that they almost looked silver.
She tried not to think of how handsome he looked in that light.
“Thoughts on your mind?” she asked.
“You could say that. And you?”
“Yes, just the same.”
They fell into silence once more. Dorothy was careful to keep a few steps between them so there was air between their arms. She didn’t want there to be a chance of them actually brushing arms by mistake.
“Can I ask you something?” Dorothy said, finding she couldn’t bear the silence after a few minutes.
“Of course.” He nodded, still staring at the branches in the distance.
“Your whole need for propriety, does it come from fearing what… what the ton say? What they whisper and gossip about?” she asked with sudden passion. She could feel his eyes on her but didn’t look at him. She rubbed her arms instead, trying to warm herself up.
“What did you hear tonight?” he asked, his voice deep.
“Nothing.”
“Dorothy.” He caught her arm, the touch soft. “What is it? What did you hear?” He didn’t blink as he gazed at her. “You talked about gossip. You heard someone talking about you, did you not?”
“You know that look of yours? This intense one?” She waved a hand at him. “It can be a little too much at times.”
“Intense look?” The corner of his lips lifted into a small smile. “Is that what I have?” He frowned at her, rather playfully. “You have never told me that before.”
“I’m hardly going to, am I?” She rolled her eyes.
“You’re changing the subject.” He released her, but that look didn’t abate. “What did you hear tonight, Dorothy?”
“Whispers, gossip, that’s all.” She shrugged. “I was fetching some punch when some ladies spoke of how I didn’t like jewelry, or how strange I was, for I preferred walking to balls. One woman heard that I don’t play an instrument.” She gulped, remembering the lady’s particular horrified, censorious tone. “The way she spoke of me, it was as if I was scandalous. As if I had done something truly awful—like killing someone.”
