No mistaking where the emphasis bit down—well.
“We danced on several occasions during her debut season.”
That was one way of putting it.
Gwyneth’s brow lifted with mild skepticism.
In some way that Bran was too staggered to identify now—and which would surely plague him later—he sensed he’d given himself away to his sister.
So be it.
“Mayhap,” she said, “Lady Artemis could use some assistance with the donkey. They can be most stubborn creatures.” She smiled. “Like brothers.”
Bran understood he had a choice. Stay here and explain something to his sister that he hadn’t yet fully explained to himself.
Or go and help Artemis.
Dread snaked through him. To help Artemis meant he would have to chase after her, and chasing wasn’t something he could do anymore. It would be a limping effort, at best.
Only a few weeks ago, it was a thought that would have kept him rooted to this very spot.
Today, however, he could follow a different thought.
The fact was he’d grown weary of fixating on what he couldn’t do.
Instead, he could set his mind toward what he wanted to do.
And what he wanted was to see what Artemis was getting up to.
To achieve that end, he would have to traverse distances, for Artemis was a woman on the move. He would have to walk or ride a horse, and he wasn’t about to ride a horse, so …
Walking—limping—it was.
He met his sister’s gaze, her golden eyes warm with a knowledge he wasn’t entirely comfortable with. “You won’t mind if I …” It wasn’t necessary to finish the sentence.
“I think I’ll ask the Duchess of Acaster for the name of her modiste. She’s a most stylish duchess.”
Thirty seconds later, Bran was off to chase after Artemis.
Slowly.
Which was surprisingly all right.
For here was what he’d come to appreciate aboutslow.
It was forward progress.
Something he’d been incapable of for two years.
But now, possible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
A FEW HOURS LATER
She was a tiny donkey.
But the problem of her was sizeable.
