“Yes.”
“It’s funny. I’d memorized everything you wrote to me,” she said softly. “I didn’t memorize what I wrote to you.”
He jerked his head sharply to the side, a strange look on his face. “You memorized my letters?”
She blushed and bent down to get a closer look at the stones. She pushed some wet leaves away. “I know you have a scar on the underside of your chin because your first horse threw you when you were six years old.”
He rubbed his chin. “That hurt. Scraped it against a rock.”
She scooped up a stone and made her way tentatively to the water’s edge. “I know that you were once beaten by a group of boys at Eton because you were the only one who defended a new student who’d just arrived and was frightened.”
He eyed her askance. “I never said I was the only one.”
She smiled. “You didn’t have to. I could tell. You were the only one, weren’t you?”
He folded his hands behind his back, looked down at the tips of his boots, and nodded. “Poor bastard,” he whispered.
“And I know that you once gave Daphne your entire savings of spending money because she wanted to purchase a puppy that was being sorely treated by its owners.”
He cracked a smile. “Daphne can be quite convincing.”
“You’re quite a nice brother,” Cass said. She tried to skip her stone. It plopped into the water unsuccessfully.
“Owen wouldn’t do that for you?” he asked.
“Oh, Owen’s always been perfectly nice to me, but he was much more interested in riding and hunting and boyish pursuits. He never took much of an interest in his younger sister. Though when Lucy used to visit she always tried to get him to play with her. He wanted no part of it, of course.”
“So she played with you, instead?”
“I’m afraid it was her only choice.” Cass tossed another pebble into the lake, an even more dismal attempt at skipping than the last.
Julian walked over to her and handed her another stone, heat transferring from his hand to hers. “Let me show you,” he said, turning her and pulling her into the recess of his arms. Cass closed her eyes. It felt so good to have his arms around her, his warmth and scent enveloping her. He took her small cold hand in his large one. “Here’s how you do it. First, you must start with the correct stone. See how this one is flat?”
She glanced down at the rock in her hand. It was indeed flat. She somehow managed to nod.
He nudged her finger to the top of the stone and moved her thumb to the side. “Fling your wrist, like this. Try to keep that angle.” He demonstrated the correct flip of the wrist.
Cass tried it, flinging the rock out onto the lake. The stone skipped once, twice, three times before sinking beneath the flat surface of the water.
“I did it!” She turned in his arms, a wide smile on her face, then pulled away abruptly when she realized how close they still were. She backed up quickly, putting several paces between them.
He shook his head and seemed to study the ground for more suitable stones. “You know, I remember your letters, too,” he said quietly. “Let’s see if I can refresh your memory about what you wrote to me.”
Cass blushed and glanced down. She pushed her slipper through a small pile of leaves.
Julian folded his hands behind his back. “I know you make it your business to befriend anyone whom no one else will befriend. You’re not close with Lucy and Jane for no reason.”
“I love them,” she admitted. “Even Lucy, when I don’t want to kill her, that is.”
He nodded. “I know. I also know you are exceedingly clever at sewing, singing, playing the pianoforte, and painting. Especially painting.”
“I’m not proud of any of that. Mother insisted I do it.” Then she smiled softly. “Well, perhaps the painting.”
“You’re quite good at it.”
She glanced away. “Thank you.”
“I still have all of the paintings you sent me. I keep them in my pack.”
