I shrugged. “A walk sounds delightful.”
“Perfect.” He smiled. He handed his grandmother off to Liza and strode to my side.
“Not too far, Charles,” Mrs. Harrelson said as she moved slowly toward the door with Liza. “Stay within sight of the house or take a chaperone.”
“We shall remain visible,” he said, placing his hat atop his head. With land so flat, it was almost hardnotto be visible.
We followed Liza and Mrs. Harrelson outside along the exterior of the house, parting ways at the garden, which was colored in all shades of green with the most stunning flowers. As Liza drew in a breath and bent over each bush to examine them, Charlie nodded sideways to me, and we turned toward an open space in the distance.
Everything was green, until Charlie led me down a beaten dirt path, where the same tall, yellowing grass I’d seen from the carriage swayed on either side of our path. A cool, salty breeze enlivened our lungs and drew us forward.
Out here, without the watchful eyes of Society and Mama’s relentless planning and perfecting, I was free.
“We could not have asked for a lovelier day,” I said, tilting back my hat to feel the warm sun on my face.
Charlie walked beside me with a new bounce to his step. “No, indeed.”
“Nor a happier welcoming.”
Charlie grinned. “Nor better company.”
I laughed. “You are in a rather good mood.”
“Forgiveness changes a person, Rosalind,” he said like a vicar to his congregation. “I am a changed man.”
I stole ahead of him and cut him off. “Never to do wrong again?”
“Never,” he declared, taking a step toward me. His eyes were playful and bright.
“Shall I test you?” I pursed my lips to keep from smiling. “Just to be certain the old Charlie is not hidden away somewhere in there.”
I looked down at his chest, which was a grand mistake. A sudden flame ignited all through me.
“Be my guest,” he said, his eyes traveling my face with a measure of humor. Did he know how handsome he was?
“All right. Perhaps we should travel a little farther from the house than we’d planned. Out of sight?” I teased. Then I flushed. I hadn’t meant to sound so flirtatious; I was engaged, for heaven’s sake! My gaze flew to Charlie’s, and the slow curve of his lips. He laughed and wiped a hand over his mouth.
“Rosalind Newbury, are you trying to scandalize me? We have the masquerade for that.”
Heat seeped from my cheeks. “What? No, that is not at all—”
“I mean I am flattered,” he continued, straightening his jacket. “And in truth, you are a Prime Article. But, darling, you are engaged. And you are not the type to play a man’s heart and leave him moon-eyed and alone.”
“No,” I said in a flat, sarcastic voice as though we were truly discussing the matter. “I am not.”
“So, under these circumstances”—he tried to look put out—“my answer is no. As I am now a changed man.”
“I see.” Try as I might not to smile, his cocky attitude fit him like a glove, and it was either concede or slap him straight on.
“Now, had you asked me a few days ago ...”
“Charles Winston!” I shoved him sideways, and he laughed.
“What? I am only a man.”
“An annoying, nonsensical man. I wasjesting.”
He regained his footing, moving closer to my side. “No, you were not,” he muttered.
