“Mary!” Beth laughed. “That was quite wonderful, and if I am being honest, he would make your sister an ideal match.”
“Next!” Dimity said, laughing. “Which man is fool enough to take us on?”
Mary watched the two men in front of Ridley throw them a panicked look, but they stood their ground. She started laughing and didn’t seem able to stop.
“Do you need me to slap you?” Ruby said, glancing at Mary who now had tears rolling down her cheeks.
“N-no.” She was tired, uncertain, and those were just the issues she could name. Everything had suddenly become more complicated than it should be.
Yes, she worked secretly for Alexius but had been doing so for two years now. She was used to that and the late hours. She thrived on the intrigue and danger. It gave her mundane life purpose when previously the most exciting thing to happen in her day was the possibility of a visit to the lending library. Her life had just always been what it was, and now it wasn’t.
What she was feeling she laid solely on the hands of Zachariel Deville. Her emotions were tangled. She’d disliked that annoying man for years, and now he’d kissed her, and there was still annoyance but also a great deal more.
“Good Lord, tell me Plunge is not about to go out in a boat?” Beth said, clearly horrified.
Mary looked to the water, and there he was. Monty being rowed out by Mr. Percival Roche. She felt the giggles erupt again.
If only they knew, she thought, watching Monty flick his lace cuffs as he waved with a silly expression on his face to the banks where people watched.
“I don’t want to look,” Freya said. “He’s bound to end up in the water.”
“I’m afraid I cannot fit five in a boat,” the man helping people climb aboard said, eyeing them dubiously. “Are you in need of someone to row you?”
“We most certainly are not,” Mary said.
A voice over her shoulder said, “You cannot seriously want to go out on the water in these conditions.”
She spun to face Zach. His eyes locked on her.
“Clearly we are made of sterner stuff than you,” she snapped.
He rolled his eyes. “I shall row you.”
“We do not want your help!”
“Too bad. You’re getting it.”
“Zach!” Dimity glared at him. “Behave.”
When Mary was close to Zachariel Deville, she wanted to slap him. It had always been that way. Only now there was that little something else. The tension that kiss had put between them.
The wind ruffled his dark locks. As usual, he was far too handsome in a deep grey overcoat and pale grey trousers.
“Hello, may I offer some assistance?”
Mary spun to find Sir Milton Reeve there. A pleasant-looking fellow with a gentle nature.
“We have an extra seat, sir,” Mary said, giving Beth a look when she opened her mouth. “Please join us.”
“Zach can come with us. I did not mind rowing, but in all honesty, it would be nicer if I could just trail my fingers in the water and look countessy.”
“Not a word, Dimity,” Zach snapped. “And your fingers will fall off in these conditions.”
“Who is rowing me?” a haughty voice demanded.
“Dear lord,” Freya whispered.
“I heard that, niece!” the Duchess of Yardley said.
