As he readied the horses, she’d time to begin to regret agreeing to ride beside him anyway. There would be no one to interrupt their conversation should it grow awkward. No one to fill in any silences that might fall. No way to pretend to be ignoring his presence, the presence that caused her eyes to be unable to meet his, that tied her tongue, and made her feel all muddled inside.
It didn’t soothe her nerves that Michael spoke on, mindless of his fellow travelers, declaring his undying affection. Summer allowed him to go on holding her hand, even though she delicately yawned behind her other hand.
As soon as Xavier stepped back, declaring the horses were saddled properly, Kenneth drew a card from his coat pocket. As Michael went on proposing marriage to Summer, Kenneth slipped a playing card—a ten of hearts—in the man’s hand where he knelt, then moved quickly away from the scene. Speaking loudly, to override Michael’s proclamations, he said, “I declare it the new partners’ turn, Genevieve and Xavier’s. Here is your clue. And oh,” he said, pulling the paper back out of her reach momentarily, “before you may have it, understand that you’re not to look at Haddy’s map.”
Genevieve lifted her eyebrows, nodded acceptance, and snatched back the paper.
“‘My Guild Festival dates from the time of my charter in 1179,’” she read aloud, “’And is celebrated every twenty years. In ancient times, I was the capital for the Duchy of Lancaster. I was occupied by the Old Pretender in 1715, and by the Young Pretender in 1745.’” She looked up at Kenneth to needle him lightly. “But it doesn’t rhyme.”
“I should care to see you get anything to rhyme with ‘1715.’ Believe me, I made the attempt, and it was the wartiest piece of poetry you’d ever read.”
“On this journey, that’s saying something,” Penelope teased.
Kenneth turned to Penelope and gave an exaggerated frown, and she giggled. Genevieve’s eyes widened at the sound, for Penelope wasn’t usually one given to girlish giggling. They widened further when Kenneth began to stalk the woman with claw-like fingers, causing her to squeal and dash around the group of people and around to the other side of the carriage. She came around the other side as Kenneth pursued her, her eyes glittering, her cheeks flushed, and she moved quickly behind her brother, crying, “Kenneth! Do stop! Xavier, help!” She giggled again as Kenneth reached around the taller man. “Xaiver, make him stop!”
Have they mended fences so thoroughly then, that they may act in something like their old camaraderie? Good for you, Penelope, Genevieve thought with a little nod of approval.
“Manning, my sister says you’re to stop behaving like a noddy,” Xavier said dryly, though there was an edge to his voice that made Genevieve glance up at him and remember last night.
Kenneth took one more lunge for Penelope—another giggle—and then abandoned the chase, tugging his waistcoat back into place and running a hand through his hatless hair in an effort to restore his decorum.
“You are the apple of my eye,” Michael went on. “The honey on my bread…”
Xavier ignored both his sister and Michael to speak to Genevieve. “Our clue time is running out. Have you a guess?”
She shook her head, feeling the shyness creep back into her manner, causing her to not quite meet his eye. “It has to be a place, rather than a person, yes? I’m afraid the farther north we go, the less my knowledge of the land and its local history becomes. Although, I’ve a thought as to the duchy, I think it must be Lancaster. That must be north of here, for we are undoubtedly going to travel through Lancashire, and one is named for the other, surely?”
Xavier rubbed his chin. “And talk of the Pretenders doesn’t bring any different thoughts to my mind. It might be easier to say where Pretenders were not, rather than where they were. Very well. Kenneth, we say it is Lancaster.”
“Sorry,” he said, his tone of relish showing his claim of regret wasn’t quite true. “Dear me, it’s time for a forfeit.”
Genevieve sneaked a glance at Xavier as Kenneth pulled the forfeits bag from his pocket. Xavier didn’t appear particularly upset by the turn of events. She chose to model his behavior as Kenneth presented the bag to her.
She pulled out a neatly penned slip and read it quickly to herself. She felt a flush creep up her face, and wished she could somehow force her body not to give her away so easily, for the forfeit demanded a scene of public intimacy she didn’t think she could enact with any easiness of spirit. She licked her lips nervously, thought about asking to draw another only to reject the idea as blatantly cowardly. She cast Xavier a look of apology. “‘The parties of this forfeit shall feed to one another their next meal, bite by bite,’” she read. “’Each may not feed themselves, only touching any food or drink in order to deliver it to their partner.’”
There were groans of sympathy mingled with grins all around, although Genevieve noted Xavier said nothing at all, only nodding once.
Laura clapped her hands, laughing. “Oh, Kenneth, you do have a way with little bits of fiendishness, do you not? I’m so glad that at last you are showing your true colors to everyone, that they may know I’ve not exaggerated your cruel nature all these years.”
“This forfeit’s far less cruel than being made to sing in the High Street, if you ask me,” Haddy grumbled to Genevieve. He turned to Laura, his thumbs tucking into the armholes of his waistcoat proudly, his mood lightening. “But, my good lady, do not fear you’ll be made to sing or sup in any wise uncomfortably this day, for it’s now our turn, and I have the answer to the clue.”
“Last night he solves a Little Riddle, this morning a treasure hunt clue. Miracles exist among us,” Kenneth noted, grinning.
“My friend, it’s always a miracle when anyone can glean anything from these rambling, nonsensical clues of yours. But the fact of the matter is, I happen to know you mean us to go to Preston.”
“Bravo,” Kenneth cried, in some surprise.
Haddy made a deep bow to the group at their scattered applause. “I happen to know the grouse hunting is particularly fine around the ancient Duchy of Lancaster.”
Michael at last stopped proclaiming his admiration, because Summer had taken back her hand and left him behind in order to join the others solving the clue.
“Ah,” she said to Haddy, clearly having been listening to him and not Michael. “Hunting. That explains how you’d be likely to know the answer.”
Michael joined them, hands in his pockets once more. He stood next to Summer, who didn’t bestir herself to move away from him.
“I care not how you knew it, I only care we’ve won our token.” Laura put out her hand, into which Kenneth pressed a playing card: a two of diamonds. She looked up at him. “What significance does this card hold, if any?”
“I had time to think ahead, so it does. Yet it’s a bit obscure. We’ll we passing moors and mountains on our way there—that’s the two—and the area is rich with coal, which as you may know can be the beginning of diamonds.”
Laura made a face that said she was pretending to be impressed with this logic. “Ah, my brother, so clever. If only your wit extended beyond your scribblings to the time you keep company with your friends and family.”
He refused to rise to the bait. “Enough. Let us away. We’ve miles to go before we find our beds this day.” He made shooing motions at the ladies in the direction of the coaches as he said to Haddy, “It’s forty miles to Preston, I’d say. The day’s already half done. Shall we try to make the full run of it?”
“We could have arrived at Brockmore already perhaps, if we’d but dedicated ourselves to it,” Michael interjected, stepping forward to provide the hand up for the ladies. Summer paid no heed to him, climbing up into the coach unassisted. Michael simply smiled at her, despite her averted face.
“Aye, if we followed your desire for neck-or-nothing driving,” Haddy said, also choosing to ignore the moment. “Personally, I’ve a care for my hide, and my horses. And given that the coming roads are uneven and hilly, we’ll be fortunate
indeed if we come the full forty miles this day.”
Xavier quirked his head at Genevieve—a silent inquiry whether she still chose to ride—and at her nod, offered her his cupped hands, that he might toss her up to her saddle.
She was hoisted, hooked her knee properly, and arranged her skirts so that they covered all but the toes of her slipper in the one stirrup, just as Haddy and Michael both got their coaches rolling. It was only a moment more and then Xavier was in his saddle. “Ready?” he said to her, causing her to look to him again.
The sun was nearing its midday height, picking out the silver threads in his waistcoat, and making his beaver and boots shine with a high polish. He looked well upon a horse, his back straight, his seat secure, his deep blue coat and paler blue breeches well matched, giving him a slight military air. He truly had a fine face, with that strong chin that reflected a sound character. For a moment she could think of no other visage that would command respect and admiration as did his, down to the eye patch that somehow gave him an authoritative air.
He waited patiently upon her reply, his gaze steady and subtly flattering, his attention not on the carriages that left them in the dust, nor the horse beneath him, nor the heat of the day, but rather centered exactly on her. At some primal level she knew he was prepared to wait an hour, if she only said that he ought.
In that moment she wanted nothing so much as to announce to him that she’d fallen quite madly in love with him.
Madness! Her hands tightened on her reins, making her horse dance beneath her, as she struggled to overcome such an impulse. What if she were terribly wrong, and attraction lay only on her side? She bit her lip, and looked down the road, and clucked to her horse.
She watched the scenery pass by, despite that unnerving moment aware of a feeling of exhilaration. An uncomfortable mix of excitement, uncertainty, and a tearing feeling of wanting to be alone to think clearly…and wanting to be alone with Xavier for hour upon hour. She allowed her horse to go slow enough to suit her jumbled mood. It seemed they were all in such a hurry to be done with their last summer together. It didn’t matter it had been a long, uncomfortable, disturbing time, not when she thought that when it was done, it would remain gone and over forever. No more chances to flout society’s rules; no more foreign locales shared with favorite friends; no more seemingly idle opportunities to gaze up into a friendly face, a gray eye that glimmered with shared amusement…or even, perhaps, something deeper than that.
Xavier kept his horse at the same slow pace as hers.
“What will you miss most?” Genevieve asked, peeking over at him. “When we’re done with our little excursion?” She knew he’d understand she meant the entire journey, not today’s ride together.
He considered, until he nodded to himself. “I thought I wouldn’t miss anything, to be honest with you. I’m…happiest when I’m home.”
“But?”
He gave a lopsided smile, no doubt aware he’d left open an opportunity for her to draw him out.
“But I’ll miss…this.” His gaze was unblinking, until he turned his head away so that even his good right eye could no longer take her in. “Learning more about everyone.” He cleared his throat, and turned his head forward again. “We’ve known each other an age, but I’ve found there’s more to…everyone. You think you know your friends so well…” He let his words trail away.
“It’s like the tale of your eye,” she said, adjusting her hands on the reins. “We all ought to know well enough what happened, but no one does.”
When he made no reply, she looked over, instantly knowing by his grim expression that she’d taken a poor turn.
“I only mean,” she said, growing flustered as she spoke, “that you’ve never said… But, surely, it’s a secret that ought come to light? Among us friends? You know we’d not repeat the story…once we knew…” In the face of his now too carefully stoic expression, it was then her words that faded away.
After a very long silence, he at last spoke. “Enough of such leisurely riding,” he pronounced stiffly. “Let us catch up the others, and get you once again in the coach, where you may be more comfortable.” So saying, he put heels to his horse and trotted away up the road.
Genevieve followed in a growing fog of angry misery. Why must he be so sensitive about his eye? Why not just say what had happened—or make up a reasonable tale about it? It wasn’t that she’d said anything so terrible or unkind…
But, even though true, the almost-lie dissolved in the face of his clear wretchedness. Whyever he’d built the mystery around his injury, she’d trod on a trust that had been just growing between them, something new and fragile. Without him saying a word to the effect, she absolutely knew she’d betrayed him in some fundamental way.
It didn’t make sense. It was unfair.
But it was real. And tears prickled in her eyes as she suspected there might well be no way back into his good graces.
Chapter 20
Poor intricated soul! Riddling, perplexed, labyrinthical soul!
—John Donne,
LXXX Sermons
Michael lifted the wine bottle that had come with their purchased meal and proposed a toast. “To the excellent time we’ve made prior to our luncheon. Due to my leadership, of course.”
“To excellent time,” the others echoed with indulgent glances between them. They half-laughed or shook their heads, raising their glasses and sipping at the dark red wine.
“And we are all in one piece, to judge by what my eyes show me. No bruised hooves. No rough road-tossed ladies. No broken wheels,” he crowed to Haddy.
Haddy shrugged, obviously more interested in the contents of the picnic basket than he was in Michael’s achievements.
“Come, Genevieve, drink,” the latter chided his sister when he saw she didn’t lift the glass balanced in her hand.
Haddy looked up abruptly. “No, she may not!” he said. “If she’s to have a sip of wine, Xavier must present it to her, and the other way ‘round, I might add. The forfeit, if you recall.”
“Ah, yes. But what is this? You’ll never have a meal, you two, if you don’t sit near one another. Or else your method is one I personally don’t care to witness, ha! Come along, Genevieve. Move next to Xavier there,” Michael urged.
She toyed a long moment with the idea of pleading the megrims, but she knew it would only be a temporary reprieve. The party would see the forfeit went forward, if not this meal then the next or the next after that. She rose to her feet, moving silently and without looking at him, to sit next to Xavier. As she settled beside him, he was equally as silent.
“I dare to think we’ll reach Preston at just about nightfall,” Michael went on.
“I wish to offer a toast,” Haddy said, perhaps bored of the subject of making good time. “I think we should drink to Kenneth, for isn’t this bit of forest glade the coolest, most pleasant spot in which we have yet dined?”
“Quite, quite,” Penelope agreed.
“Then, to Kenneth, for proposing this tour to the cooler and beautiful Northlands.”
“To Kenneth,” came the cry.
“See here, Genny. Summer and I will show you how best to feed one another,” Michael said when Genevieve still didn’t lift her glass.
“We will not,” Summer said clearly.
“At least let us entwine arms as we sip our wine.”
“No.”
“Oh, prithee, my lady. We must show this sorry pair how such things may be done. A mere moment of your time to set these two in the right direction.”
Everyone expected another refusal, but it was not forthcoming. “For Genevieve, I will do it,” Summer said primly, no smile near her mouth.
Michael smiled enough for the two of them, and stooped down near her. He put out his arm, around which Summer wrapped hers, and each of them brought their own glass to their lips, their faces very near.
“But that is all wrong,” Haddy pointed out. “These two need to drink from each other’s hands
.”
Michael didn’t answer, holding Summer’s gaze. She gazed back...and did she almost smile?
Xavier sat stiffly next to Genevieve, not moving, just as she sat next to him. As Summer at last untangled her arm from Michael’s, looking up at him through her lashes, Genevieve’s hand shook once Laura passed her a full plate of cold fish, pickled vegetables, and herbed bread. The lady handed the same to Xavier, who wordlessly set about tearing the bread into bite-sized pieces.
Genevieve began to realize her breathing was becoming uneven in agitation, that she would soon make a fool of herself if she didn’t do something.
She put down the plate, scooting closer to Xavier on her knees atop the usual picnicking linen. She took up the wineglass with two hands, the better to disguise that they shook. She raised it, even as she raised her eyes, until the glass was before Xavier, an offering.
His gray eye met her own, too steady to reflect any true benevolence toward her. She felt her face grow pale, but she didn’t lower the glass, for somehow the moment must be got through.
Finally he gave a faint, nearly imperceptible nod, and leaned forward slightly. She tilted the glass, slanting the wine toward the edge of the glass, and moved it toward his mouth. His lips parted slightly, meeting the goblet, waiting as she tilted it still more that the liquid might reach his tongue. He sipped, quite possibly receiving very little, and then lifted his mouth from the glass. She lowered the goblet to her lap to help her support its small weight, for her arms felt heavy and nearly useless even as they trembled.
There was a subdued cheer from the others at the sight, but then they went back to their conversations and meals, their need for playful vengeance satisfied.
Xavier raised his glass before her, tilting it, guiding it forward, until the wine flowed into her mouth. She was getting too much, and so her hand automatically came up and touched the glass and consequently his hand, to signal that the glass must be taken away. Her hand leaped from his at the touch, resettling on the base of the wine goblet in her lap.
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