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Finn’s smile faded. “Grand.”
The two of them made their way through the crowds, Matthew feeling considerably better than he had moments before.
He still didn’t know what the future held, nor how the festival would turn out that afternoon or in the weeks to come.
But right now, he would do his best to see its success, and that would be enough. Because all of them—himself and Winnie included—had put too much into this festival to see it come to ruin again.
Winnie arrived at Foxwood and parked her car—this time, she was definitely not driving an Aston Martin—on the pea gravel drive. Her heart raced at the idea of seeing Matthew again. What would he say? Would he be happy to see her? Or would he tell her to leave, that she’d lost her chance to be with him for good?
She didn’t have time to think about it for long. Just as soon as she pulled her suitcase out from the trunk, Char came running up to meet her.
“Winnie!” she greeted with a tight embrace. “What are you doing here?” She pulled back, taking Winnie’s arms in her hands. “You’d best not have just forgotten something.”
Winnie grinned. “No, I’m back. Back, back.”
“Really?” Char said, her brow raised. “Please tell me you came back for my brother.”
Winnie hesitated. “Well, I mean, I told my dad it wasn’t because of Matthew, but let’s be honest…it was.”
Char squealed, reaching in for another embrace. “I knew it. I knew you’d come back. Just ask my mum. I told her you’d be back before long, and now you’re here!”
Winnie’s heart practically ached with joy. She’d made the right choice. “I’m so sorry for putting you all through that. Especially your brother. I just hope he’ll forgive me.”
“Oh, please. Of course he will.”
“Is he still jousting?” Winnie asked.
“Yeah, the second half of the tournament is just about to start,” Char explained. Then she paused. “Wait, did you not message Matthew to tell him you were coming back?”
Winnie smiled sheepishly. “No. I was kinda hoping to surprise him in person.” She eyed the thick trees separating them from the view of the festival. “Although on second thought, maybe that wasn’t a good idea.”
Char’s eyes brightened, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh my gosh, I have the perfect idea.”
Winnie’s heart jumped. “What?”
“Just follow me.”
A short thirty minutes later, Winnie stared at her reflection in the mirror in Char’s room, shaking her head vigorously.
“Nope,” Winnie said. “No, absolutely not. I can’t believe I even let you talk me into putting this ridiculous dress on. There is no way I’m appearing in public like this—let alone in front of Matthew.”
“Oh, come on, Winnie,” Char said, straightening Winnie’s headpiece. “He’s going to die when he sees you.”
“Die of second-hand humiliation,” Winnie retorted.
She looked again at the reflection of her dark hair hanging past her shoulders, then peered down at the long, dark red dress Char had somehow encouraged her to put on. Apparently, Jess, their damsel, had left for home sick that afternoon after the first joust.
Char had been scheduled to take her place, but not anymore. Winnie would be the damsel instead.
Winnie. The damsel in distress. After all this time protesting the part in the festival, complaining about it being a twenty-first century faire, and now this.
What was she even doing right now? She looked like an elf from Lord of the Rings, with these long, drooping sleeves and low waistline. If she was being honest with herself, she didn’t entirely mind the look. It was almost kind of fun. But she couldn’t even stomach the thought of Matthew possibly rejecting her while she wore such clothes.
“Do you even know Matthew?” Char asked, smoothing out one of Winnie’s sleeves. “He’s going to jump on you when he sees you.”
“Char!” Winnie said with a laugh. “I hardly think that’ll be his reaction.” She shook her head, looking down at the dress once more. “I can’t. It’s too much.”
“No, you can,” Char said. “He’s going to love it. Trust me.” She stood back and looked at her handiwork. “You can pull off this style, Winnie. You should become a regular at the festival.”
