She picked up a plate and dished some scrambled eggs onto it, trying not to think about Jem’s stiff form at the table. Last night, he had acted like he had something to say to her. Maybe like why he hadn’t contacted her before. No, she wouldn’t think about that. The last week had made it seem like those two years hadn’t happened. He had accused her before of painting all guys with her father’s brush. She needed to give Jem a chance to prove he wasn’t like that.
Her mother’s voice echoed in Reese’s mind.But he made no effort to see you for two years.
By the time she sat at the table with her food, he had picked up a newspaper. She decided to continue playing it low-key, hoping when they were alone, he would explain. And put her fears to rest.
“Anything interesting?” She spread a napkin over her riding habit.
“The actual news is pretty dry stuff,” Jem said, “but the ads are fairly entertaining. Here’s one for Cremorne Gardens.” He affected an exaggerated announcer voice. “Unprecedented attractions—in consequence of the extraordinary sensation created by the perilous and daring ascent of Madame Antonia up a single rope one hundred feet high in conjunction with the Antipodean Tableau by the Deulin Family, this wonderful and attractive performance will be reportedevery evening.”
“They also have someone called Waterloo Pete.” Jem wiggled his brows at her, making her smile. “If that doesn’t do it for you, the Brown brothers have a new patent for a suspensory chair—whatever that is—approved by the Queen and Prince Albert, no less, and used by the King of Naples, the Duke of Wellington— hmm . . . it’s for invalids. Wow.TheWellington that we read about in our history books is still alive right now.”
“I can’t get my head around the idea that we’re intheirtime.”
“I know.” Jem put down the paper and let the footman take away his plate. “This life of leisure is killing me. I spent the last two years so busy I used to joke that I’d meet myself coming around a corner. If this wandering around looking for entertainment is all these rich people do, I don’t know how their brains didn’t shrivel up and die.”
“I know, right?” She wiped her mouth with her napkin and set it on the table. “But to be fair, it must take a lot of work to run a large estate and supervise the staff.”
“Granted. Nellie’s current guests seem more like a tame group of college students on spring break. I must be getting old.” He chuckled and stood. “I’m looking forward to the picnic tomorrow.”
“Me too. It sounds like everyone who could wrangle an invitation will be there.” Reese stood, and Jem pulled out her chair. “Are we ready?” Reese’s pulse quickened at finally being able to talk with him, maybe kiss him again. Her doubts and hopes did battle, and it was turning her stomach into a twisted knot.
Jem held out his arm, and she took it. As they had done almost every day for nearly a week, they left the breakfast room together. Her maid Lulu waited near the entry, also dressed for riding, though in a simpler gown.
“What’s this?” Reese asked softly.
“We aren’t to be left alone together anymore,” he whispered.
She stopped, and he did too. “Walter isn’t chaperone enough?”
He shrugged, let out a deep breath, and nodded toward the maid. Reese let him lead her out the door. He didn’t say anything as they walked to the stables.
Perfect. For the first time since his long silence, she was willing to hear him out, and Nellie wasn’t going to let it happen. That explained his more reserved behavior at breakfast. Reese was both frustrated and relieved.
As Jem helped her mount, she wondered how many unmarried men and women the faerie woman had entertained in her home over the years. Not counting time travelers, it must be a lot. She had probably seen it all.
With both Walter and Lulu not far behind them, their riding talk was as vapid as the breakfast conversation had been. Reese’s frustration grew, making her antsy. Like Jem had said, she wanted todosomething besides pass time. When they were younger, she, Kaitlyn, and Jem had raced each other while riding. Reese wanted to now, but did she dare in a long skirt? She shifted in the saddle. Honey flicked her ears, seeming to pick up on Reese’s mood.
“Hey, Jem,” she said with a grin before sending her horse off in a gallop.
“Miss!” Lulu cried.
“Woohoo!” Jem cried, the sound of his horse’s hooves fast on her heels.
They had taken this path several times now, so she urged the palomino on. Reese hadn’t jumped a horse in more than a year, but she took a chance on a little fence, squealing with delight as Honey easily cleared it. Behind them, Jem gave a familiar whoop like he used to do when they raced as kids.
Laughing, Reese slowed the horse to a trot and waited for Jem to catch up.
“Thank you for that,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to do something like that for two days, but I didn’t want to risk you with those skirts, split or not.”
“That felt good,” she said. “I have so much energy some mornings that I think I’ll explode.”
“Miss Clarisse, you must never do that again,” Lulu chided as she and Walter finally caught up with them.
“Leave her be,” Walter said. “She and Mr. Jem both have good seats. I could have told you that, after riding with them for five days.”
“Thank you,” Reese said. “Does Aunt Nellie have any practice jumps we could use?”
“She does, but with the picnic tomorrow, it will be a few days before anyone would be free to set them up for you,” the groom said.
