He nodded. “Good. I can imagine that. You’ve played this game before?”
“With my brother. I had forgotten until now.” Wistfully she recalled that childhood memory as she gave in to the earl’s invitation to lie on the grass beside him.
“Perfect. You can pretend I’m your brother.”
“That isquiteimpossible.”For many reasons.She turned toward Theodore and found him already facing her.
“You feel no affection toward me? Or is it simply that I do not resemble the lad? He had eyes you could see, I suppose.”
She laughed at his overexaggerated expression of mock hurt. “Eyes, yes, but no teeth. I recall that his front two were missing around that time.”
Theodore gave her a toothy grin. “Well, then, a point for me.”
“Many points for you.” Beatrice clamped her lips together and squeezed her eyes shut. Why did she keep saying such things?
Theodore’s hand found hers and clasped it between them. “You have more points than you can imagine—were we keeping score.”
Beatrice didn’t trust herself not to say something else she oughtn’t, so she turned her face from his and looked to the sky once more. “There is a wide cloud floating over us that reminds me of a loch, and on its far side, a cottage sits at the edge. A tiny spiral of smoke is floating up from the chimney.”
Theodore gave a lazy, relaxed sigh. “I can picture that. It seems a very peaceful place.”
“As is Broughleigh.” Beatrice closed her eyes once more, utterly content in that moment, the only sounds being the harmony of their breathing. She could fall asleep this way, out here among the sweet grass, with the person she cared most for in this world beside her.
A loud wail, the first long note of a bagpipe echoed over them, breaking the silence and jerking her to her knees in a flurry of skirts and movement.
Still lying down, Theodore groaned. “Arthur.”
“It’s not evening yet. Why is he playing now?” Beatrice placed a hand over her thudding heart.
“Because he can?” Theodore suggested. “Who knows? He comes from a long line of pipers who’ve taken their jobs very seriously. Maybe today is a Scottish holiday or commemoration I’m unaware of.”
“Or maybe he was warning us that we’re about to have visitors.” Beatrice looked past the hill where Arthur played to the road below and the plumes of dust billowing up behind thecarriage coming toward Broughleigh, a familiar crest emblazoned across its side.
Theodore sat up, his shoulder brushing hers. “Who is it?”
Beatrice followed the conveyance’s progress until it stopped in front of the house. The door opened, and a blonde head of curls poked out.
“Violet is here.”
“BEA DEAR,” AUNT Margaret sang in her falsely sweet voice. “Fetch a tray of sandwiches for Violet. Our journey has tired her so.”
Beatrice stepped away from the wall and smoothed the front of the apron she’d donned hastily before delivering the tea tray. Her hair was up once more, wound in a tighter knot than she’d worn all summer.
“Do not bother Cook,” Theodore said, a bite to his tone that Beatrice had not heard for several weeks. “She is in the midst of dinner preparations by now. We keep only a small staff here,” he said, his attention directed to the sofa where Violet and her mother sat.
Beatrice risked another glance at Violet and found her initial assessment correct. Her cousin looked unwell. Perhaps the journeyhadn’tagreed with her. She remained uncharacteristically silent and slumped on the couch as if defeated.
“If your home is so understaffed, isn’t there something else Beatrice can do—some other task that does not require her to hover about, eavesdropping?” Aunt Margaret flitted her hand toward her as if trying to rid herself of an annoying insect.
Beatrice fought the feelings that reduced her to such a state and shrank back near the window. It might be easier ifshe left, but then she would not be here to defend herself if the truth came out.And it will. She’d always counted on that eventuality in her favor, that someday everyone would know she had not killed her family. But never had the truth of what happened that night been revealed.
Now, instead, the truth of her only dishonesty was threatening exposure at any second. It was like the boulders on the nearby hills. Enormous and seemingly randomly placed, they perched sideways, half in and half out of the earth, ready to thunder down the side of the hill at any second, taking up large chunks of earth as they rolled and destroying all in their path.
I don’t want to destroy Theodore. I never meant to hurt him.
“Miss Worthington’s presence is none of your concern. Why areyouhere?” Theodore demanded.
“So you and Violet may become reacquainted with one another before your wedding, of course.” Aunt Margaret’s tone carried the perfect balance of feigned innocence and her usual insistence.
