“As I well know.”
“What was I thinking? Of course you do. Shall we race to the bank like we used to?”
“My skirts are a great deal longer than when I was a girl. I would probably trip.”
“You could tie up your hem if you would like. There is no one around to see.”
Except him. “No. I wouldnotlike.” My answer came out far more curtly than I intended. “And it was ungentlemanly of you to suggest it.”
His cheeks turned pink. “I was only remembering how you used to do that when we raced as children, but of course, it was not proper for me to suggest that to a young lady. Forgive me.”
Drat! He had been trying to forge a connection based on a shared memory, and I had cut him down to size. Would we never get this right? “I’m sorry. I know you did not mean anything dishonorable. I was only remembering what you said to Miss Digby about me tying up my skirts as a girl, and I was upset.”
“You cannot know how sorry I am for that.”
I thought hearing him apologize would make me feel better, but making him feel bad only made me feel worse. “We are spending a great deal of our time together apologizing for what’s passed when we should be looking toward the future. Shall we start over?”
He let out a relieved breath. “I would like that very much.”
“Me too.” We walked a few paces farther down the trail. Fallen foliage and small sticks crunched beneath our footfalls. I missed the way things used to be between us. I missed my friend. The easy way we’d laughed and played and teased one another. Perhapsthatwas what we were missing. I purposefully slowed my step. “Do you hear that?”
He stopped in the middle of the path, as I knew he would, to listen. “I don’t hear anything.”
I made a show of setting my hand on my hip and turning to look behind us. “Oh. Look there.” I pointed at a random spot in the distance. “Do you see that?”
Ollie set the basket at his feet and cupped a hand over his eyes as he squinted into the distance. But no matter how hard he looked, he would not see the fictitious thing I’d invented to distract him.
I slowly stepped back out of his line of sight and gathered up my skirt. And then I ran as fast as my feet—and dress—would allow.
“I don’t see anyth—” he started to say.
But I’d already raced away several paces. I glanced back over my shoulder at him. He picked up the basket, but he seemed to be having a difficult time running and keeping the contents inside at the same time.
The river grew louder and louder as I neared the bank. The footpath wound around, and I followed it to the water’s edge. “I win!” I shouted breathlessly.
He came up beside me only a few moments later. “Only because you cheat.”
“You are just jealous that I thought of the scheme and not you.”
“Without a doubt.” He laughed and laid the blanket on a patch of dry ground, then set down the basket. “Your victory lunch, madam,” he said in a stuffy, upper-crust tone and dipped into an overly dramatic bow.
I stifled a laugh at his antics, remembering the way we used to pretend to be proper adults as children. “Why thank you, sir.” I sat and spread my skirt around me like a proper lady.
“Finger sandwich or fruit?” he asked.
“Sandwich first, then fruit.”
“An excellent choice,” he said, but then he looked into the basket and frowned. “I think our little race has fatally wounded your lunch.” He held up a flattened sandwich.
With a giggle, I took it from him to inspect it myself. “It is only alittleinjured,” I said, taking a bite. “Yes. It’s perfectly edible, I assure you.”
“So you are acheaterand aliar.” He shook his head. “What kind of company have you been keeping, Miss Kent?”
I shoved his shoulder, and he pretended as if the light motion caused him injury, lying back and clutching at his pretend wound. I rolled my eyes, and he propped himself onto his elbow.
Silence fell around us as we ate, but this time, it felt light. Leaves rustled in the breeze above us, and the stream trickled before us, and finally, it felt like old times. But then, in the distance, I heard what sounded like a horse neighing. I stilled to listen.
“You are not going to fool me again.” Ollie wagged his finger. “So if you mean to steal my sandwich—”
