Catherine's carefree spirit, stopping to smell the flowers at every turn, caused her to smile.
To simplybewith her sisters was a comfort. Not to have them barking at her heels, demanding she be on the lookout for one of her suitors, was a godsend.
And the weather was also pleasurable: the sky a palest powder blue with nary a cloud, and the sun warm upon her back as she failed to hold her own parasol entirely upright. The scent of sweet treats wafted on the breeze from a nearby stall erected in the park square.
If she closed her eyes and allowed herself to forget all else, she could almost believe herself as carefree as her youngest sister.
“Oh, look, Cece!”
Catherine's exclamation made her eyes fly open just in time to see her sister hurrying towards the pond a little way off.
Following her sister's gaze, she spotted the reason for her excitement.
Ducklings!
It took all she had in her not to go racing down to the water's edge right along with her sister.
She and Mary shared an amused glance as they followed much more slowly.
She had barely made it off the path, onto the grass that lined the pond, when she heard someone call her name from behind.
“Elizabeth!” Mary called back as Cecelia turned to see Walter's sister hurrying towards them.
Behind her came her brother, and beyond him, the face of the man she had hoped and feared seeing.
George wandered with his hands in his pockets, his expression entirely unreadable. And when she met his gaze, her heart stopped.
“Cece, how wonderful it is to see you!” Elizabeth said, wrapping her in an affectionate embrace, yet Cecelia's eyes never left George's over the lady's shoulder, at least not until Walter stood in the way.
“What a marvellous surprise,” he agreed, throwing his arms wide at the three sisters who had come to stand side by side.
“Look, Walter,” Mary insisted, and she grabbed hold of his hand, having left her parasol and books discarded at the side of the pond.
The man did not attempt to stop her as she dragged him down to the water's edge to show him the ducklings.
Their crooning over the babies melted into insignificance as Elizabeth stepped aside to greet Catherine, and she came face to face with the duke.
She swallowed hard past the lump in her throat, unable to blink as he gazed down at her, his blue eyes quite unreadable.
“Your Grace,” she said, dipping a curtsey as she remembered herself.
George removed one hand from his pocket and placed it behind his back to bow. “Lady Cecelia.”
The formality of his tone shook Cecelia to her core.
“Are you well?” he asked, and it took several long, agonizing moments for his question to register in Cecelia's tumultuous mind.
Paling, she quickly responded, “I … yes, Your Grace. I am well. I hope that you are also.”
Against her better judgement, she cast a glance at his lips. She found them pursed, and her own started to tingle as she remembered how they had been connected only two nights previously. That kiss had meant everything to her, and yet, he had brushed it off as if it were nothing.
His mouth opened as if he were to speak, but before he could do so, Elizabeth appeared at his side once more and insisted, “We must all walk together, like old times. I insist we make it all the way to the fountain and back before we depart.”
No matter how she tried, Cecelia's gaze would not fall from George's, nor did his leave hers as he spoke with little emotion, “I would be glad of the walk.”
Cecelia was most surprised when he offered her his arm and asked, “Will you walk with me, Lady Cecelia?”
One glance told her she had little choice.
