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Was that it? Marie had more than expected a resolution, what with Charles’s reaction upon seeing her. Unless he was pleased that there was no news yet.
“Well,” she said, breathless at the thought, “there’s that, then.”
Charles averted his gaze. “I’m sorry to say we will have to wait a few days more for our futures to be settled.”
“I suppose we shall.”
He offered his arm to her, and together they left the village. Instead of maintaining his disconcerting silence, Charles seemed a degree happier, whether that was due to renewed hope or something else, she couldn’t decipher.
“So,” he said, as if they were in the middle of a conversation, “we’ve spoken a number of times about my own adventures. Now we must speak of yours.”
Marie balked. “My adventures? I hardly believe I need to tell you I do not partake in any.”
“Nonsense. Mr. Page’s letter said, well, never mind that now. I believe that any experience—great or small—can be seen as an adventure, depending on how one views it. Not all journeys may look alike. My escapades may appear different than yours, but that does not mean yours are any less exciting.”
Marie tried to keep up with his swift words. “I suppose.”
“So what in your life has been exciting?”
Pressure mounted on Marie’s shoulders. “I assure you, I have done nothing compared to you.”
“No, do not compare it with me. What have you done that you have found exciting?”
Marie racked her brain for something to impress Charles, but with every idea, she fell short. Playacting before her parents, racing across the countryside on foot when she was a child, climbing to the top of a tree when she was a young woman—all of them seemed so very lackluster compared to his house-hopping and grand-touring.
Charles remained silent as she continued thinking, though a smile lingered on his lips as he watched her expectantly.
“Well,” she began, finally settling on one, though she still wasn’t impressed with the memory herself, “I once ran away from home—just for the day, mind—so that I might attend a festival at harvest time. Mother and Father found it too base, but I wished to attend, so I snuck out in the morning and danced and played and ate all day.” She ended with a shrug. “That was exciting to me.”
She braved a glance at Charles and was relieved to find complete joy written across his features.
“I did the very same when I was a boy,” he said, his eyes bright. “Tristan pretended to be me so I could escape flute lessons at home. To this day it remains one of my fondest memories, that festival.”
Marie gleamed.
The advertisement she’d seen in the village crossed her mind again, and her smile grew as an idea was planted in her thoughts.
In the next moment, however, thunder rumbled directly above, and Marie looked up, stunned to see the storm clouds she’d been fretting about before, now directly upon them.
“Nearly certain we wouldn’t be caught in it?” she asked. “Isn’t that what you said?”
He grinned sheepishly. “Well, think of it this way. You shall now have another adventure to add to your list.”
She looked at him with suspicion as the first drop fell. “Was this your plan all along?”
“As if I plan that far ahead,” he said with a laugh. Another drop fell, then another. “Worry not, we will be home before it falls too hard.”
And yet, in the next moment, the clouds opened, and water poured forth from seemingly every inch of the skies above.
“Or not,” he said, wincing as the rain pelted against them.
“Now what?” she asked, her voice raised to be heard above the sheets of rain.
She lifted a hand, though it did even less than her bonnet in shielding her face from the droplets.
“Now we make a run for it,” he said.
The look of excitement across his features caused her to laugh despite herself. He clasped her hand with his and barreled down the lane, his pace steady for her to keep up as she raised her skirts and ran alongside him.
