Uck, gross. But his attention doesn’t hold, and he turns back to the river.
She thought it would be easy to make herself annoying, but it’s perfectly nice out, save for the splashing water. And she’s normally not one for loud complaints. Why did she think she could do this?
Rosalie looks to Catherine’s boat and finds Catherine and Christopher looking back at her, frowning while Amalie tells astory. They’re nearing the dock where they had planned to stop for a light luncheon in the nearby park. She’s running out of time to dissuade Mr. Dean.
She wishes she could talk to Catherine about this. Wishes they were in the same boat. Wishes they were simply punting along together, with no one else, able to talk and laugh and spend time with each other.
She wishes she could clear this with her. Or Christopher. Or hell, even Amalie. Because the idea that comes to Rosalie is completely ridiculous. Utterly atrocious. But it’s all she’s got.
With a silent apology, she turns to Henrietta. “I bet I can stay standing for longer than you can,” she says, awkwardly interrupting a story Henrietta was telling Mr.Rile about her family’s horses.
“I’m sorry?” Henrietta says, turning to Rosalie, fully confused.
“I bet I have better balance than you do. We’ll both stand and see who can stay standing the longest. What do you say?”
Henrietta stares at her with wide eyes.
“That’s a ridiculous notion,” Mr.Dean says swiftly.
“It could be rather dangerous,” Mr.Rile adds.
Henrietta can never deny Rosalie what she wants. And usually, it’s always in Henrietta’s best interest. But today, Rosalie needs to play on her goodwill.
Please, she thinks, hoping it comes through in her gaze.
Henrietta reluctantly nods. “All right, I guess,” she says, removing her blankets and taking Rosalie’s outstretched hand.
Together they clamber up and stand there, holding hands, rocking far more than Rosalie anticipated.
“All right, on the count of three, let go,” she says, trying to sound more confident than she feels.
This is so frivolous, and dangerous, and ridiculous.
“You need to sit down,” Mr. Dean says, his voice sharp and focused for the first time all day.
But it’s working.
Rosalie counts down. Henrietta’s grip on her hands tightens, but she dutifully lets go onthree, and they start to balance. Mr.Rile has stopped rowing and they’re left to the whims of the river, drifting peacefully and rocking with the light current.
“Stop it this instant,” Mr.Dean insists.
“MissRaught, really, I don’t think—” Mr.Rile starts.
Henrietta teeters and quickly sits down, breathing heavily and gripping at her seat. Rosalie withholds her wince and throws her arms up in the air, wobbling dangerously.
“I win!” she says, forcing gaiety into her voice.
“How marvelous. Now. Sit. Down,” Mr.Dean snarls.
If she looks at him, she’ll fall over. But the tone of his voice is encouraging. Maybe a minute or so more and she’ll have entirely ruined all the admiration he has for her.
“I want to see how long I can go,” she says.
“That is—”
“What are you doing?” Amalie calls out.
Their boat comes into her limited view about twenty feet to their left. Christopher’s trying not to laugh, and Catherine looks shocked but amused, her eyes wide, lips twitching.
