“Do they not celebrate such things in Lowden?” asked Thea with raised brows.
“I suppose we do, though I am rarely able to attend them all,” she said, as a group of men gathered about the Maypole, which had remained standing at the edge of the green after the previous celebration. Stripped of its ribbons and flowers, the men now smeared the wood with lard, laughing as one slipped and nearly lost hold of the bucket.
“That is the joy of a smaller town,” said Thea, threading her arm through her cousin’s as the prize was tied to the top, waiting to be claimed by anyone foolish enough to attempt the climb.
The parish feast had long outlived most of its spiritual meaning and ties to their local patron saint, but the villagers still found ample reason to bake, sing, and make merry. And though having this many celebrations so close to one another was a bit overdone, the crowd thrummed with pleasure and reveled in any reason to be out in the spring air, in the company of their neighbors. There was such life in every breath that one couldn’t help but embrace it all. The harvest would arrive soon enough, leaving the villagers too busy to do anything else, and then winter would settle in, trapping them inside their houses.
Soon, grace was spoken, and the villagers tucked into the sumptuous feast. The tables stretched the length of the green, a patchwork of rough boards and borrowed benches that had seen better days. Platters of roasted beef and mutton steamed beside great loaves of bread, their crusts crackling and golden; there were wheels of cheese wrapped in muslin, fresh-churned butterset out in neat curls, and pies so fragrant that the scent alone could make one’s mouth water.
There were no gleaming silver dishes, no footmen gliding silently between guests, no orchestras to fill the pauses in conversation. But that did not diminish it in Thea’s eyes. She had sat at grand tables before, had eaten delicacies that would make these villagers gape, yet those fine dishes had never filled her quite like this.
The laughter here was louder. The cheer freer. No one worried about posture or precedence. Here, there was something honest about every bite, as if each dish carried the warmth of the hands that had prepared it. It was a feast of belonging and brotherhood, and there were no better flavors in the world.
But once more, Thea found herself glancing at Mina. Though she knew her cousin wasn’t so high-minded as to turn her nose up at their humble offerings, too many of their class merely deigned to attend, rather than relishing it. And when she studied Mina’s expression, she spied the same appreciative glow, and Thea held her friend’s arm tighter.
Across the swell of the crowd, a familiar figure caught her eye. Frederick stood a little apart, speaking with a group of farmers near the edge of the green, the sunlight catching in his fair hair, and her heart lifted at the sight of him—until she noticed the bright red bloom pinned neatly to his lapel, the vivid color standing out against the dark color of his coat.
Her breath caught. No ribbon. Just the single rose.
Mina followed her gaze, brow furrowing. “What is the matter?”
Thea shook her head as her throat tightened. “It is nothing. Only…” She forced a small smile that wavered. “It is a little custom. On our feast day, the ladies send a ribbon or rosette to their sweetheart, and he wears it and a spring flower upon hislapel. At some point during the festivities, he returns the favor by bestowing the flower upon the lady. It’s rather a harmless thing. Just a bit of village silliness.”
Mina’s eyes flicked back to Frederick. “And he isn’t wearing yours.”
“No.” The word was soft, nearly swallowed up by the hum of conversation and clatter of plates. She tried to laugh it off, but her heart gave a traitorous twist.
“Think nothing of it,” said Mina, straightening as her gaze focused on Thea. “I may have met your Mr. Voss a mere six weeks ago, but it is clear both from his behavior and your description of him that he is a touch…” Mina paused, considering her words, though Thea’s mind was quick to supply the descriptor the lady danced around. “…forgetful.”
Thea gave a humorless chuckle. “That is the truth. I love the man dearly, but I fear he would forget his head if it weren’t attached to his neck.”
Nodding, Mina’s expression brightened. “Precisely. And he has had much on his mind of late, hasn’t he?”
That was unequivocally true, though Thea couldn’t say what those troubles were, and her patience was wearing thin as she waited for him to share them. One way or another, she would uncover those secrets. Soon. But in the meantime, she supposed that preoccupation was excuse enough for the oversight.
“No doubt someone pinned the flower on him,” added Thea with the slightest hint of a wry smile. “Knowing him, he walked out of the house without a second thought, and one of our neighbors forced it upon him when he arrived.”
“I would wager so,” said Mina, patting her arm. “Do not fret. It wasn’t a slight.”
“You’re right. Of course, you are.” And for all that the words felt hollow, Thea held fast to them.
After all, it wasn’t as though Frederick meant to offend or cast her off. The notion was absurd. Whatever troubled him, it had naught to do with their courtship. They were happy. Solid. Certain.
Thea drew a quiet breath, letting the sounds of laughter and the clinking of tankards wash over her until the tightness in her chest eased. Once the strain of his responsibilities lifted, Frederick would return to his usual good humor and speak to her. He always did. He needed time to order his thoughts before he could share them. She could give him that.
“There you are.”
The voice startled Thea; it sounded so like the gentleman she’d been watching that her mind couldn’t comprehend how she heard it whilst he stood on the opposite side of the gathering. Turning, she spied Mr. Timothy Voss at her elbow, an easy grin in place as he swept into a bow.
“My lady,” he said with overdone gravitas.
And something skittered down her spine. Though Thea was quite familiar with Frederick’s antics and misdirections, there was a hardness that lurked beneath his brother’s playacting that always set her teeth on edge. It wasn’t as though he were a bad man, so there was no need to keep him at arm’s length.
It wasn’t as though Thea disliked him. She didn’t care for him, but that didn’t mean she didn’tnotcare for him. That double negative made her head ache. As it usually did when she tried to discern her feelings toward the gentleman.
But Thea put her confusion aside and greeted him with a nod of the head. “Mr. Voss. It is good to see you.”
“And I, you,” he said as he straightened. “But pleasantries aside, I came here to beg a favor.”
