“What can I do? I could force her down the hill. Roll her ankle?” I tried to lace humor in the idea, though I was frighteningly willing to follow through with it.
“Georgiana? She is tolerable. As I’ve told you, Amelia, I only want Ronald to be happy. I just want anequalchance at being his happiness.” She spoke with determination, as though she had to convince herself she was capable. “He is a good man, and he’d make a good match for me. For us. We could stop worrying about Lord Gray and live our lives.” Clara sighed, brooding again. “But I can hardly get a word in edgewise with Georgiana’sbrotherhere.”
“Mr. Wood?” My voice squeaked on his name.
“Yes,” she exclaimed, annoyed. “With every bit of conversation, even the weather, he finds a way to turn it in Georgiana’s favor. It is maddening. For half a minute, I’d like to talk to Sir Ronald about his life here, what it’s like to be master of all this. But when I try, guess what the conversation turns into?”
“Georgiana.” I groaned, feeling her frustration. “Perhaps I can pull her into conversation, distract her.”
“No.” Clara shook her head. “It is not so much Georgiana as it is Mr. Wood. Amelia, I need you to distracthim.”
“What?” Surely I’d misheard her. My confidence in swaying that man to my will was infinitesimal, if it existed at all. Not to mention that I loathed him and nearly every word that came from his mouth.
“Just for the afternoon. Please, Amelia. I will go mad if I have to hear him spout on about his sister for one more minute.”
One afternoon.I rubbed my temples. Suddenly, the miles I’d walked earlier were not so exhausting. The ache in my feet, welcomed. But having to spend time alone with Peter Wood? That was misery indeed. I peered over my shoulder and saw him standing between Sir Ronald and Georgiana like mortar between bricks. Clara was right. Something had to be done.
Lifting my shoulders and straightening my back, I anchored my resolve.
“Well, Clara, you are fortunate now more than ever to have a clever sister. I may not be the most beautiful woman here, but I can find a way to keep Mr. Wood at bay.” I set my chin. “Do take advantage of whatever time I can give you. It will not be earned painlessly.”
Clara’s eyes brightened in excitement, and she pulled me into a happy embrace as she squealed into my ear. “For all that is bad in my life, you, dear sister, keep the good at an equal balance.”
I heartily agreed. We rejoined the company just as the servants finished laying out the picnic.
Cold meats, cheese, fruit, and breads were offered along with lemonade. It was quite a handsome feast.
Sir Ronald beckoned Clara over to his blanket to share the small spread he’d prepared, and as she settled in beside him, Georgiana positioned herself on his right.
Realizing my duty, I searched for wavy brown hair and listened for a deep, velvety voice, finally finding Peter dallying near a servant at the carriage. For now, at least, he was occupied on his own.
I grabbed a small plate, filling it with bites of everything that looked appealing. I was ravenous from walking miles, not to mention having missed breakfast, and just thinking about enduring Peter’s attention made my stomach grow three sizes. Undoubtedly, a lady with my current burdens needed ample nourishment. I claimed a spot on an empty, smaller blanket near Clara’s, training one eye on Peter. Some way or another, I’d have to convince him to join me before anyone else did.
After a few bites of ham, I savored the cheese and fresh bread, a bite-sized pastry, and a biscuit. A gentle breeze brushed across my face, and for a moment, I was entirely content with my circumstances.
A very precious, short-lived moment.
Glancing up to where Peter had been, I realized the servant stood alone. Worse, Peter was mere steps from walking past me—and heading straight toward Sir Ronald and Clara. I had to act, and fast.
“Mr. Wood!” I said too enthusiastically through a mouthful of biscuit. I swallowed behind my hand, forcing myself to meet his eyes despite the painful embarrassment I felt having his attention in its entirety. Curse my appetite and the desperation in my voice.
“Miss Moore,” he said brightly, as though surprised to see me. I glanced to Clara, who laughed openly beside Sir Ronald, and then back to Peter, who stood above me with raised brows. My stomach clenched, and I regretted the amount of food I’d just consumed. For such small portions, I’d filled myself to the brim.
If only I’d been thinking more than eating. How could I capture Peter’s interest long enough to give Clara adequate time with Sir Ronald? Anything dull would not do. I needed to truly surprise him. But what about me would surprise Peter Wood? Too often I kept to myself, a creature comfortable with solitude, prone to laughing about thoughts in her head. What tactics did I have to keep a man’s attention? What did men even want to hear? A compliment, perhaps?
I straightened my back, brushing my hands with a napkin. “You look well today.”
The compliment felt as insincere as a horse telling a fly it was missed. Judging by the mirth in Peter’s eyes, my tone was not lost on him. But at least he found it funny. He cleared his throat, wiping away the smile he clearly did not want to share so freely. “I feel it. And how are you faring this beautiful sunny afternoon?”
“Wonderfully. Join me, won’t you? We could chat about the weather or ... whatever it is you enjoy talking about. You can hold a lady’s interest, can you not?” I raised a brow to challenge him. Though I knew little of his personality and character, I had an inkling that Peter enjoyed a challenge.
Again, his lips twitched, and I felt entirely unsatisfied by his reaction. Did he mean to laugh at me? Or was there some other reason for his desire to force down his smile?
“As you wish, my lady. Allow me to get a plate, and I’ll return right away. May I fill your cup, or offer you more pastry?”
“No, thank you. I am quite content.”
Those bright eyes peered curiously into mine as he offered a deep bow and continued past me toward the spread. His walk—or saunter, really—was as carefree as though the wind itself carried him. His hair wisped with each step, and he threw a half grin to every person who greeted him. I bit my lip, letting out a heavy breath. Could I keep up with this game we were playing? Peter’s confidence far outweighed my own.
