Ignoring that ridiculous statement (for she had at least him and Mrs. Kitts), David shook his head. “Why is your family so determined to think ill of her? Your sister does have a sharp wit, but she is far kinder than you give her credit for.”
“Forgive me for disagreeing, but I have only ever seen her curt and dismissive of others. But if you enjoy her company, then I am glad for it.”
“I do,” said David. “I count her one of my closest friends, and I will not stand by as you try to marry her off to men like Mr. Pine and Mr. Moody.”
Benjamin’s brow furrowed, and his friend stood there, studying him in silence.
“What is it?” asked David.
With a shrug, Benjamin turned his gaze out to the crowd. “If you do not wish to help me ‘toss’ gentlemen at my sister, would you prefer to talk about the riots in the South?”
Pinching his nose, David groaned. “Are those my only options? I have told you my opinion on the matter. They will likely spread here, but as long as you prepare for that inevitability, there is no reason Whitley Court cannot weather it.”
But no amount of assurances appeased Benjamin, and David succumbed to another long discussion on the matter. Thankfully, he’d given the speech many times over the past few weeks, and he could do so with little thought.
Chapter 15
Despite the main draw of the afternoon being berry picking, the majority of the party had chosen to avail themselves of the picnic spread on the grassy knoll. Blackberry bushes stretched out along the sides of the clearing, but few even pretended to pick. Katherine had four trugs settled beside her on the blanket, and despite wishing for more, her back demanded she stop.
“Oh, how delightful,” said Miss Kipling, stopping by the dark treasures and reaching for a berry.
“They are not for eating,” said Katherine, pulling the basket out of reach.
Miss Kipling straightened with a laugh. “I just wanted one.”
“There are plenty over there,” replied Katherine, nodding towards the bushes.
“It is only a single berry, Miss Leigh.” The young lady stiffened, her brow furrowing as she straightened her skirts. “You needn’t be so testy about it.”
“As everyone who wishes to steal a bit of my hard-earned berries claims it is ‘only one,’ you will forgive me if I am not feeling particularly generous. Especially as you are quite capable of fetching some yourself. This is a berry picking party. If you wish for berries, pick some.”
Miss Kipling huffed and turned, marching away.
Katherine let out a hissing sigh through her teeth and took several deep breaths before she was able to relax once more. Why was she always made to be the villain? Perhaps her answer had been a tad curt, but as she had spent the better part of a half hour defending her bounty, was it any wonder that her patience was worn a tad thin?
Not a single thief bothered engaging her in conversation before or after (except to scold her), yet it was she who was heartless and greedy because she wouldn’t part with her hard won treasures. They acted as though they were the dearest of friends when attempting to nip a berry, but the minute they were thwarted, all pretenses dropped.
And of course, the fault was all Katherine’s.
Even now, she spied Miss Kipling sauntering off towards a group of gabbing girls, all tittering like overeager songbirds (if such delightful creatures sounded like metal scraping together). It took no leap of logic to know precisely what she was saying when the gaggle glanced at Katherine with narrowed eyes before they began an agitated critique of all that was wrong in the world. Namely, Katherine Leigh.
Shoulders dropping, she sighed. There was no point in leaving. It was too far to walk, and Mama would not be prevailed upon to call the carriage until she was ready to depart, but Katherine longed to escape. Watching Mr. Archer pursue Miss Hooper and Miss Lyons was difficult enough without the added burden of such blatant displays of how disliked she was.
It was no mystery that Katherine was detested. With few exceptions (namely Pamela and Mr. Archer), people tolerated her at best and openly despised her at worst. As it was her natural state of being, it no longer surprised or wounded Katherine. She didn’t understand it any more than she understood why some were so universally adored, and fretting about it had only brought her more misery.
But from time to time, Katherine wished for more.
Or at least to leave this party. That would be a start. Oh, how she longed for a bit of quiet. To hide away in her bedchamber. Or steal a few minutes with her music.
For all that everyone else adored parties and balls, Katherine couldn’t help but feel exhausted by them. It was enjoyable when Pamela or Mr. Archer was on hand, but when left to her own devices, she had only her thoughts to entertain herself. In most circumstances, Katherine was quite content to do so, for she simply turned her mind to books, music, or puzzling out the rest of her day; it was impossible to be bored when one could simply slip off into her musings.
But not when Mr. Archer occupied the whole of her thoughts.
Ridiculous. Katherine Leigh was no young miss in the throes of infatuation. She ought to have more control, but it was impossible to scrub her mind of Mr. Archer when the gentleman in question appeared before her.
“Please hide me,” he muttered as he tossed his hat to the ground and flopped onto the blanket beside her.
“Are you being hunted?”
