We maneuvered through the growing crowd, around tables and booths, and nods of “Good day.” Then Graham said, offhandedly, “There is an assembly at week’s end, if your heart should lead you there. Plenty of locals and tourists alike will be in attendance. The music is always prime, as are the refreshments.”
He was buttering me for Papa, like I’d asked Cook to butter Papa’s French beans. I frowned at him. “Is that so?”
He shrugged innocently. “I’ve seen you dance. I know you enjoy it.”
“Oh?” My voice pinched. “And does your Miss Ryan enjoy dancing?”
Graham jerked his attention to me, eyes squinted. “MyMiss Ryan?”
I scoffed at his attempt to deny it. “Good heavens, Graham, the way that woman looks at you is indecent.”
Graham snorted, utter shock evident in the way his jaw hung open in a grin. “Indecent? I daresay not one vulgar thought has ever passed through Arabella Ryan’s mind. She is innocent in every way of the world.”
“I highly doubt that,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose to ward off an impending headache.
“If you’d rather, we can rest today.”
“We do not have time.” I felt a gentle squeeze on my arm, and I looked up at him.
“Perhaps we should make time,” he said.
I huffed out a breath and pointed a glare aimed just for Graham. But he wasn’t sneering, wasn’t taunting or teasing me. He looked rather serious, and for a moment, I thought the crease in his brow might be concern. Care?
What would it be like to be cared for by Graham? To be the one he came home to with a hundred stories and ideas on his lips. Sharing a dinner that lasted twice as long merely because we had so much to say to each other.
Graham was studying me, his head tilted, eyes curious. “Whatever you wish,” he said. But this time it wasn’t to please me. This time, his voice was sincere, his smile encouraging.
“Do you concede so soon?” I teased—teased?—Graham. The hurt I’d been gripping so tightly seemed to ease with the growing grin on his face.
“Not a chance.” He narrowed his eyes. “I am, as I said, following your heart’s lead.”
My skin prickled with heat. Goodness, how his gaze burned into me. “Perhaps you should follow your own for a time.”
“Perhaps,” Graham whispered to himself, “I should.”
Our hearts were led by our hungry stomachs, and we walked down the Steine, Tabs skipping whenever her mother and Graham weren’t looking.
We picnicked on the beach, which was more spacious than at our hidden spot from the other day. People came and went in droves, running, chasing, walking, riding, some dipping their feet in the water, others sitting on blankets beneath parasols, delighted by simply observing the chaos.
Graham stayed quiet, his spectacles safely tucked away, eyes wandering the crowds. Occasionally, he lifted a hand of acknowledgment or nodded hello to passersby. Eventually, Tabs went off to explore the shoreline, and Ginny offered to accompany her. The remaining three of us sat in companionable silence, enjoying the sun and watching as the gulls flew up, around, and between the beachgoers.
A while later, I noticed Ginny nearby in a circle of young women and gentlemen. They were laughing, and she was saying something to a cheerful man beside her. Even from a distance I could tell from the set of her shoulders and the way she held her neck perfectly still that she was impressed with him and did not want to misstep. I poked Graham’s arm and pointed to Ginny. He looked over and huffed out a laugh.“That’s Mr. Anderson. Younger chap, heir to a nice estate. She’s had her cap set at him for months.”
“Have you encouraged a match?” I asked.
He lifted a shoulder. “In some ways. She does not like my involvement.”
Mrs. Everett added, “She is reticent. I do not think she is ready.”
“She looks ready to me,” I muttered to Graham, who finally smiled halfway.
Courtship. Such a ridiculous endeavor. Where two people present the best sides of themselves and try to impress one another. I grew tired of the game, tired of hiding my true thoughts. Why did we hide our excitement, our interest, even the first flutterings of feeling for another person? Shouldn’t we celebrate connection? Prioritize friendship and be enthusiastic over every potential?
Indeed, I could think of others who’d inspired me, others who’d made me feel those first inklings of wonder, and yet I’d disregarded them for the possibility of feeling something with Mr. Lennox.
Mr. Lennox who I’d carefully picked based on his handsome face, his popularity in Society, and his ability to turn a phrase. How coy I’d played.
Lud, I could be daft.
