My anger kindled. Ifthatwas how he remembered our relationship, then perhaps he needed me to refresh his memory. “That is not at all how I remember things,Oliver.”
He tensed when I used his Christian name and glanced at Miss Digby.
“In fact,” I continued, “it was under this tree that we—”
“Played,” Ollie cut off my sentence.
So hedidremember. This knowledge made his betrayal sting even more.
“Hannah used to tie her skirt between her legs so she could better climb,” Ollie continued.
“Youarelike siblings.” Miss Digby giggled behind a gloved hand.
“That is not even the half of it,” Ollie said.
“Ollie,” Damon warned with a shake of his head.
But Ollie pressed on. “Hannah was always trying to compete with Damon and me. I think she wished she’d been born a boy.”
“Mr. Jennings, you are wicked,” Miss Digby laughed openly.
My anger became a roaring fire. How could he be so cruel? He wanted to impress Miss Digby, but this was beyond the pale.
“I believe we all sometimes wish we could be someone we are not,” Damon said.
“Yes,” Amelia agreed, laying her hand on mine. “My brother, for instance, wishes he’d not been born a gentleman but rather a common man so he could be a Bow Street Runner.”
“It is true,” Mr. Atherton said. “Or at least itwastrue until I discovered the profession would require a wardrobe completely devoid of any color.”
Amelia continued speaking, but I didn’t hear a word.
Ollie glanced at me with a sorrowful expression, but I averted my gaze. He’d laid me down to raise himself up, and it was unacceptable.
“Please excuse me,” I said. “I need to stretch my legs.” And I stood and walked toward the riverbank without a backward glance.
Chapter Sixteen
The path that led tothe river was overgrown with tall grass; blades whipped my arms, and my half boots slipped in the soft soil, but I refused to stop walking until I reached the bank.
Why had Ollie been so cruel? So unfeeling? He’d said he wanted me to like Miss Digby, but he didn’t seem to care much what her opinion was of me.
As I neared the shore, I yanked off my gloves and set them on a boulder, then stooped to gather a handful of pebbles. I flung a rock into the water, trying to skip it across the surface, but it sank immediately.
I turned back to the water, and with as much force as I could muster, I flung another rock. Again, it sank without skipping. Couldnothinggo my way today?
Behind me, footsteps squelched in the mud. I peeked over my shoulder, expecting to see Ollie, but I found Damon instead. He silently joined me at the bank.
“If you’re planning to tell me what I’m doing wrong—”
“No,” Damon said, cutting off my words. “If I recall correctly,youwere always better at skipping rocks than both Ollie and me combined.” He stooped to search out a handful of flat stones, handed several to me, then effortlessly skipped a few across the river’s surface.
Ihadbeen better at skipping rocks. Much better, in fact. As children, the three of us had stood in this same spot. I’d been so good at skipping rocks, but the boys had been terrible at it. I’d shown them how to pick out the perfect stone, flat and light in weight, and how to fling their wrists just so, but they never could master it.
Until today, that memory had brought me joy, but all I could see now was a little girl with her skirt tied between her legs.
I sank another rock.
Ollie had treasured our friendship back then. What had changed? I couldn’t make sense of his cruelty. Had I made some unknown social blunder and caused him embarrassment? Perhaps he wished to distance himself from me? Was I really so flawed?
