“It is.”
“Are we…” she began and stopped. But she had to know. “Are we trespassing?” she said in an urgent whisper, glancing around and not finding another soul.
“Not at all,” said Lucas, utterly unconcerned.
They made another right turn, then a left, each new road narrower and less kept than the last. A river no wider than twenty feet appeared before them, and they turned right onto a road that more resembled a dirt trail that ran alongside the river, which in some places more resembled a creek. With the sun shining down, shallow water skimmed like glitter across the uneven riverbed. A rope swing hung from a tree, lazily swaying in the breeze. The river must’ve been deeper there. A swimming spot.
Effortlessly, Lucas tugged on the reins, and the horses came to a smooth stop at a lovely bend in the river, a willow tree near, low grass spread all the way to the riverbank.
Idyllic.
She’d seen that word in a book and had to look it up in the dictionary she kept near.Full of natural charm. Picturesque.She’d had to look that word up, too. But this place must’ve been in the mind of the person who’d dreamt up those words.
“What a pretty view,” she said in her own words.
Lucas saw to the horses before joining her at the riverbank. “Today, I’m going to introduce you to two of my favorite pastimes.”
“Oh?” she asked, watching him shake out a blanket and spread it flat.
He sat on the checked wool and pulled off his boots. “You must remove your boots and stockings before I tell you.” He rolled up his trousers.
A bemused laugh escaped her. She could see there was no point in arguing, and why would she want to, anyway? She found a corner of the blanket and began unlacing her boots. What adventures she’d been having in these boots the last few days. When it came to her stockings, she would have to show a little leg. She snuck a peek toward Lucas. He’d returned to the cabriolet and was untying something from the back. It appeared to be a small basket, a bucket, and… two long poles?
“What is this, then?” she asked suspiciously.
“Have you ever fished?” he asked as he returned.
She screwed up her face and came to her bare feet. “Fished?” That answer was easy. “No.”
His smile only widened. “Well, you are in for an afternoon of delight.”
“I don’t know about that.” Not at all. “One of my brothers would go down to the Thames and catch eels with his bare hands.”
“As…” Lucas looked utterly flummoxed. “…sport?”
Nell had no chance of stopping the chuckle that erupted from her. “To sell.”
Lucas continued staring at her, blankly.
“To the pie man, of course,” she explained.
“Of course,” he said slowly.
“You’ve never had eel pie, have you?”
He spread his hands wide in a gesture of helplessness. “Alas, I haven’t.”
“Next time you’re in London, you need to leave Mayfair and find yourself a pie shop in the East End. That’s where you’ll find the eel pies.”
His smile fell an increment, and a sudden intensity formed about him. “I’ll be in London next week.” A hesitation. “And you?”
Like that, Nell went a bit breathless. “Aye. I shall.”
“Perhaps you could take me to your favorite pie shop.”
“Perhaps I could.”
It wasn’t settled—it wasn’t yet definite—what they were saying below their words.
