“I have not seen you in months, and then I receive a wedding invitation as if I am some distant aunt who should be grateful for formal notice, and not one proper letter beforehand, and not one warning, and not one scrap of gossip to prepare me,” Temperance said in one furious rush, half scolding and half laughing while hugging her into the ground. “What sort of friendship is this, and what am I meant to do with such treatment except arrive and shout at you in public?”
Charity stared up at her for one second, then two, and then the shock broke, and she started laughing so hard she had to grip Temperance’s sleeve.
“I am sorry,” Charity said between breaths, still laughing. “I am so sorry, you look mad enough to strike me.”
“I am considering it, but I cannot while I am hugging you and crying at the same time,” Temperance said, and her voice shook in exactly the way that proved she had indeed come in a rush and worried the whole journey.
Duncan, standing a step away, looked like a man who had prepared himself for many forms of disruption, and none of them included this one.
He did not move immediately, and Charity would have laughed at his expression if Temperance had not shifted and nearly elbowed him while trying to hold Charity tighter.
At the sound of Temperance’s voice, Augusta and Matilda turned from the water.
Matilda screamed first, but in delight.
“Temperance!” Matilda shouted, and then she ran toward them, splashing through the shallows, with Augusta close behind, pretending she was running only to stop Matilda from slipping.
Temperance lifted her head just in time to brace herself.
“If either of you has grown taller without permission, I am lodging a complaint,” Temperance declared, still sprawled partly on top of Charity.
Matilda launched herself into the embrace without waiting for permission. Augusta tried to keep some dignity and failed the moment Temperance grabbed for her, too.
Within seconds, all four of them were on the blanket in a tangled heap, talking at once.
“You came!”
“You sent no proper letter!”
“You smell like horse and road dust!”
“That is your fault for making me travel in outrage!”
“Did you really come alone?”
“Of course not, I came with a groom and enough anger to carry me the rest of the way!”
Charity laughed again, this time with tears in her eyes, and for a moment she forgot the wedding, the letters, the fear, all of it.
Eventually, breathing became necessary and the shouting eased enough for people to sit upright.
Temperance pushed loose hair back from her face and looked at Charity properly, her expression softening at last into something openly affectionate.
“I came as soon as I received the invitation,” Temperance said, still sounding offended but no longer truly angry. “Mother’s house is close enough to York that I could make the journey in a day if I left at once, and I did leave at once, and I have spent every mile planning what I would say to you first, and none of it was forgiving.”
Charity reached for her hand and squeezed it. “You have every right to be angry, and I should have written sooner, and I did think of it, and then every day became another day where too much happened, and I told myself I would explain tomorrow, and then tomorrow became impossible.”
Temperance looked at her for a moment, and whatever she saw there seemed to answer some private question.
“You look tired,” Temperance said more quietly, and then, before Charity could respond, she added, with firmness returning, “Which means I am still angry, but I am postponing the full speech until I have fed you and made you tell me everything.”
“That sounds fair,” Charity said, smiling.
Temperance then turned, finally taking proper notice of Duncan, who had remained close enough to help if needed and far enough not to interrupt.
Her expression changed at once into interest so immediate that Charity felt heat rise to her face before a word was spoken.
“And this,” Temperance said, getting to her feet and smoothing her skirts with only partial success, “must be the man who has caused all this chaos simply by existing.”
