"My standards are exceedingly high."
"Your standards are exceedingly deplorably foolish."
Clara grabbed the empty basket with perhaps more force than necessary. "I'm going to the gardens."
"Your feet aren't healed enough," Gabriel said immediately.
"My feet are fine."
"You were limping this morning."
"You were observing me this morning?"
Gabriel opened his mouth, closed it, and then took a larger sip of brandy.
Edmund's eyes danced between them with undisguised fascination. "Oh, this is better than a play."
Hold your tongue Edmund."
"Make me, Your Grace."
Clara edged toward the door. If she could just escape while they were distracted…
"Where, pray tell, are you going?" Gabriel's voice stopped her.
"The gardens. As I said."
"The ground is frozen."
"I'm not planting, I'm assessing."
"You're escaping."
"Also yes."
He stood abruptly. "I'll come with you."
“I beg your pardon?” Clara and Edmund said in unison.
"To ensure you don't do anything senseless, such as attempting to dig up the frozen ground, or climb over walls. Or any number of other foolish things you're prone to."
"I'm not prone to foolish things."
"You climbed my wall in a snowstorm wearing stolen boots."
"Borrowed boots."
"Stolen."
"Forcibly borrowed."
“There is no such circumstance in being.”
"It is now. I've decided."
Edmund made a choking sound that might have been suppressed laughter. "She does that too?"
"Does what?" Clara asked.
