But there was something distinctly steely about the way he’d said the word “family.” As if it was synonymous with “fortress”.
“Not, of course, that Idon'thave tremendously important things to do, mind you,” he told her more lightly. “Fortunes don't become immense all on their own.”
He was jesting. But it seemed clear he was also making a special effort to impress her.
This sent an illicit little thrill down her spine.
“Naturally. One must guard fortunes and tend them as carefully as the kitchen garden, lest the rabbits get in.”
His smile flashed again. And as it faded, a thoughtful expression settled in.
She had at first thought the leaf-filtered light was playing tricks, but she realized Mr. Redmond's eyes were indeed green. It seemed a peculiarly intimate thing to know about him.
They were extraordinary, actually.
She inwardly flinched away from that heretical thought. How she longed to be fixed in the blazing, blue regard of Jacob Eversea, who could make her forget her own name by just looking at her.
She wanted to touch the little enamel celandine in her apron pocket now for some sort of reassurance, but she couldn't quite reach it at the moment with anything like grace or subtlety.
Mr. Redmond cleared his throat. “If it is not perhaps too intrusive a question, may I ask what brings you to the oak trees just before sunset, Miss Sylvaine?”
Mr. Redmond didn't add “alone, like a looby or a doxie,” thankfully.
“How could I refuse to answer, when you ask it so eloquently, Mr. Redmond? I am on my way home after a day out with my sister. We attended the meeting of the decorating committee for the assembly at the new town hall. Perhaps you’ve heard about it, as your sister is participating, too?”
He nodded encouragingly.
“We’ve been assigned duties—I’m going to help tidy the churchyard, and Maria will help decide upon the decorations in the hall. And then Maria and I visited Tingle’s bookshop, where Maria inadvertently left her gloves. She went off to fetch them. I've a sore toe, so I'm compelled to stay rooted. Much like these trees.”
His face was alight with flattering attention as he listened to this.
“Has she lost her gloves? Have you a sore toe? I'm sorry to hear both.”
He sounded genuinely sympathetic. But when he glanced down, she was tempted to tuck her toes under her skirt, as if with his interesting light eyes he could peer straight through to the thin place in the sole of her shoe.
“That is very kind of you, Mr. Redmond.”
“Would you be curious to know whatI'mthinking now, Miss Sylvaine?” he said almost mildly.
The little hairs at the back of her neck prickled with portent.
“If you would like to share, I'm amenable to hearing.”
“It strikes me as unfair that you've had at least thirty more seconds to look at me standing beneath these trees than I've had to look at you. I feel the imbalance acutely. I am not in the habit of allowing such injustices to stand.”
Her breath hitched.
Mr. Isaiah Redmond was most definitely flirting now, too.
And in an unnervingly adult way.
She felt as though she’d unexpectedly stepped into a swift-moving stream, with all the exhilaration and dangers that entailed.
She nodded thoughtfully. “I take your point. Then in the interest of parity, I shall now turn slightly to the left and cede those thirty seconds to you.”
She at once turned and presented him with a three-quarter view of the right side of her face. She and her sister had determined that this was her best angle one evening upon making faces for an hour or so in the mirror and at each other.
This angle also afforded her a view up the hill. The shadows were lengthening. The gold light deepening to apricot and flame.
