“Wait a minute.” He looked up at her. “I told you I would not lie.”
“No.” She waved him up, trying to get him to stand. But the man didn’t budge. “You said you would not break the law. Nothing was said about lying.”
“Well, I’m saying it now.” He stubbornly kept his seat, his eyes wide as he argued with her.
“Stand up,” she hissed, reaching forward and taking his arm.
“No,” he hissed back, wiping her hand away. “You never said I would have to lie.”
“Fine,” she finally snapped, her throat now hoarse from all their ridiculous whispering. “You can be Mr. Gillingham, and I will be Mrs. Gillingham. Will that suffice?”
“No, because I am not Mr. Gillingham.”
Gritting her teeth, she got a good grip on his arm and pulled. “Come on!” But he only relaxed further on the bench, his weight too much for her to do anything other than make his body twist about. “You are such a child,” she gritted out.
“Would you please stop?” he asked, his eyes wild as he grabbed her arm and tried to release himself from her grip.
“Is something wrong?”
The voice caused both of them to freeze, their hands now in some sort of tangled grip.
“Um, no,” Honora called over her shoulder. “I was just helping him.” She glared down at Mr. Stanton. “Why did you come if you weren’t going to play along?”
“They are headed this way,” he said, dutifully ignoring her as he brushed his sleeve.
“If you do not play along, I will be forced to take drastic measures.”
He stubbornly lifted his chin. “You should have warned me.”
Releasing his arm, Honora spun about and smiled at the couple as they walked over. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” The woman who had spoken up seemed to be nearing fifty years old, her hair dark and pinned up in a practical chignon. And the man beside her, presumably her husband, held her close.
“We apologize for the imposition,” the dark-haired woman began, “but I wanted to be sure you are all right.”
“What a sweet thing to do,” she called out, smiling. “But I am quite fine.”
With this, the woman peered over Honora’s shoulder toward where Stanton sat. “And is the gentleman all right?”
“Dear, we really shouldn’t intrude,” the husband said, attempting to whisper into her ear.
She swatted him back. “She is the same age as Jenny. Wouldn’t you wish a stranger to help if she was in trouble?”
Ah. A worried mother. “Oh, no trouble,” Honora said, forcing a smile.
The wife didn’t seem sure, now looking at Leonard with a frown. “Sir, are you all right?”
“Dear,” her husband rasped. “That is quite enough.”
“He is fine,” Honora assured her, not even bothering to look back at Stanton. “He had a bee on his arm, and I was trying to remove him from its proximity. Unfortunately, my husband is quite stubborn and wouldn’t budge.”
The wife’s head jerked back. “How strange.”
“Isn’t it?” Honora sighed. “You could ask him yourself, but he is actually a mute.”
And then a coughing fit ensued behind her. Well, if he wasn’t going to play along, she had to come up with something to keep the man from interfering.
“A mute?” Now the wife had her hands pressed to her chest, her mouth turned down. “How incredibly unfortunate.”
