Nicholas chuckled, and the sound reverberated through Clarissa’s chest.
“Well then, I shall have to teach you. Perhaps a dip beneath the ice in the pond would do you good.”
Rosemary scowled at him, glancing at Clarissa. “You are lucky not to have brothers, Miss Crompton; they can be quite ridiculous.”
Clarissa smiled but was dismayed when Rosemary excused herself. She gave Clarissa a mischievous wink and walked away to speak to her aunt. Nicholas took the place she had occupied, and they walked beside one another. After a time, she found they had lagged behind the others in the group.
Ahead of them was the high arch of a long hedge that spanned the length of the garden. It led down to the edge of the pond away in the distance and opened out into the rest of the grounds. The sun was so bright that it seemed ablaze with light, the silhouettes of the others black and stark against it.
As she watched, the beams of the sun speared out from behind a cloud, bathing everything in a golden glow.
“I enjoyed our time at the fair, Miss Crompton,” Lord Bolton said. All the good humour in his tone, when he had addressed his sister, was gone. She had never heard him sound more serious. “I am grieved I did not ever attend it before this year.”
“It is a pleasant village,” she managed, her voice hoarse, words sticking in her throat unpleasantly.
“I have often thought so, yet never took the time to explore. My estate in Hertfordshire is near the village of Hatfield. It is similar but a little larger, perhaps.”
“Rosemary mentioned you were a patron of the village. That you had donated to many causes.”
“I try to do my part when I am here, yes.” He cleared his throat awkwardly and they walked along in silence for a few minutes more. “The gardens are truly beautiful. I believe thefountain has frozen over again due to the cold.”
Clarissa was lost in her thoughts of the treasure hunt and the wonderful time they had spent together. They had been unhindered by society in those times, alone and free, simply able to enjoy one another’s company.
“I was surprised by the thickness of the ice on the pond.”
“It certainly does not happen every year. I fell through it once as a boy.”
Clarissa looked at him in alarm. “Goodness, really? Were you injured?”
“My pride most of all, but no. I was extremely cold and idiotic.”
“In that order?”
Nicholas gave a bark of laughter. “You are right; my idiocy certainly preceded my chill.” He kept smiling as he continued. “I had ventured out with inappropriate footwear as a dare. I believe it was Henry who put me up to it, the mischievous boy. He was adamant that the ice would be thick enough to hold my weight. I listened to it creak and crack as I walked slowly out there, and only when I was in the centre did I realise my folly.”
He shook his head as though to admonish his younger self.
“I fell straight through. Henry, being the gallant upstart that he is, ran onto the ice. He was rather smaller than me in those days, and it bore his weight admirably. I was lucky that it was not so very deep, and the ice did not freeze over above my head. He dragged me out, and my mother and father didn’t let us out there alone for years.”
“I am most pleased you did not suffer serious injuries. I have heard terrible tales of such things.”
“As have I. There is no current in the pond. That is where the worst cases usually take place.”
They fell into silence again, and Clarissa could feel the tension rising between them. She did not know what to say orhow to interpret this new Lord Bolton. His humour had not died away; it was still there beneath the surface, but it was almost as though his maturity had increased, if that were possible. Since she had known him, he had been all easy smiles and jokes. But now, he seemed to be rather more stoic, in a way that she found she liked.
“Miss Crompton,” her heart beat savagely in her chest. “I have enjoyed getting to know you these last few days. I greatly enjoy your company.”
Oh, God help me.
“It has been a pleasure to find a companion amidst—”
“Lord Bolton, you must ask the others to slow down. We are fairly lagging behind the rest!”
They turned to find Lady Wilde practically dragging her father behind her as she walked briskly toward them over the path. She had a fur stole around her neck, and her hair was up in another intricate design. Clarissa marvelled that her maid had the time to do it.
Lady Wilde had the faintest hint of colour on her cheeks today, her eyes bright and calculating as she looked between them.
Lord Bolton seemed irritated suddenly, his easy manner diminishing as Clarissa watched him. His smile seemed forced, and she could only bear to hope that he disliked Lady Wilde as much as she did.
