“So what happened?” Tim asked, prodding Oliver along.
“We had a lovely conversation about our favorite books.” He paused before adding, “She was warm and engaging and entirely different from the woman I interacted with at Lady Sampson’s dinner or at the vicarage.”
“She thought you were Tim.” Nat sounded thoughtful.
Oliver let out a long sigh. “Yes.”
“Did you know from the beginning?” Grant asked as he began to deal out the cards.
“No.” Oliver shook his head. “We had been speaking for at least a quarter of an hour before I even suspected.”
“And you didn’t correct her?” Nat clarified as he accepted his stack of cards. “Once you realized her mistake?”
Oliver ran his hands down his face and slumped back in his chair. “I didn’t know what to do.”
“I suspect you did not want to embarrass her,” Tim spoke while arranging his hand. “But I also think you did not want her to transform back into the young lady who does not seem to like you very much.”
It was both annoying and comforting to have someone who knew him so well. “Correct on both points.”
Grant leaned back in his chair and studied Oliver for a long moment. “What do you plan to do now that you’ve been found out?”
“Run away to the continent and hope I never see her again?” Oliver retorted, only half jesting.
“Fate is rarely that kind,” Tim pointed out. “Besides, I have a sneaking suspicion that part of you wants to see her again.”
Oliver chose to ignore his twin’s comment. In truth, he was not sure how he felt. He did want to see her again, but only if he could be sure to converse with the woman from the circulating library, or behind the pot. Though that was a story he had yet to tell a single soul. But Oliver had no desire to spend any more time with the icy debutante.
“I suppose I will need to call on her at Arbor Hill,” Oliver arranged his own cards to avoid looking at his brother as headded, “to apologize.”
“Are you not attending the picnic tomorrow?” Nat asked, “At Aston Lodge?”
Oliver had completely forgotten about the picnic. Nat and Sarah were planning to host most of the neighborhood and several acquaintances who were traveling through the area. “Will she be there?”
“Lady Sampson accepted the invitation and plans to bring her guest along,” Nat confirmed.
“In other words,” Tim spoke up, “you have roughly sixteen hours to come up with a good apology.”
And he would need every minute. He let out a long breath and lifted his cards.
Kitty walked along the edges of the rose garden at Aston Lodge, watching the guests mill about the wilderness beyond the formal gardens. When Lady Sampson had informed her that they were attending a picnic at Aston Lodge, she had pictured a minor affair with the nearest neighbors. But when they arrived, she found a large white pavilion with seating for three dozen people. The hosts had even organized areas for games such as lawn bowls and pall-mall. She thought she had even seen a stack of battledore paddles, in case anyone wished for that activity.
Though she’d been surprised at the size of the event, it had not been an unpleasant one. A small gathering meant she would have no choice but to interact with Oliver Linfield. After all, any neighborhood eventwas essentially a Linfield family event. Arbor Hill was the only estate in the immediate vicinity of Whickfield that was not related to the Linfields by either blood or marriage. But with a larger crowd, she could keep to the edges.
“Miss Childs, do join us,” Miss Brewton called from where several ladies had gathered near the lawn bowls. Kitty had been surprised to find herself already acquainted with one family in attendance. Not well, but Mr. and Mrs. Brewton and their daughters lived in London, and Kitty had crossed paths with them from time to time.
“Thank you, but I believe I would rather watch,” Kitty replied. Lawn bowls could be an enjoyable game with the right players. But a sedate game with proper young ladies was more likely to lead to boredom than anything else. That or censure, when Kitty’s inevitable competitive streak made an unfortunate appearance.
“If you are not going to play, would you care to take a turn with me around the gardens?” a deep voice sounded behind her.
Kitty spun around to find herself face-to-face with the one man she had been avoiding. Her first instinct was to give him the cut direct, but they had an audience. And he was family to the hosts of the event. As much as she wanted to, she could not be so rude. “Of course, Mr. Oliver Linfield.” She made sure to emphasize his Christian name.
After taking his elbow, they strolled a dozen yards along the back of the gardens before he spoke. “I owe you an apology, Miss Childs.”
“Oh, do you?” Kitty feigned ignorance. “It was my understanding that I’ve not seen you since I attended tea at the vicarage.” As he had not been at church to listen to his own brother’s sermon, the previous Saturday had been their lastofficial meeting.
They reached the edge of the garden and turned so they were walking along a copse of trees. Anyone at the picnic could observe them, but they were well out of earshot. “I believe you already know that I was in the circulating library that day.”
“And repairing the wall at Blackthorne Park,” Kitty added.
