I narrowed my eyes at Miss Blackwell. “So everyone?”
“No, Mrs. Gwendowen stayed behind.”
“Ah.” It was impossible to outmaneuver this woman. My plans to see Harriet had been thwarted once again. If Miss Blackwell wasn’t the daughter of a man I respected, I would— I rubbed a hand down my face. I didn’t know what I would do, but hopefully something different from what I had been doing, which was losing to her every day. “And these plans were made ... when?” Not at breakfast—I would have heard.
“Just after you left breakfast, actually. It was rather spontaneous.”
“And I didn’t hear of it because ... ” My voice was guttural—a low, menacing timbre I’d never had cause to use before I met Miss Blackwell.
Her eyes widened in innocence. “Because you get gravely ill in a carriage, of course.”
“I get what?”
“Violently ill. I went into detail. Would you like to hear it?”
“I would not.”
“That’s for the best. Hattie didn’t enjoy hearing about it either. What an unfortunate ailment. It must be a struggle for you.”
My jaw clenched. “Davis and Brookhouse know that isn’t true.”
“Do they?” She blinked innocently. “They didn’t contradict me.”
“And this is why I found myself unchaperoned by you after breakfast?”
“Yes,” she said with the slightest hint of a pout. “And I was thoroughly enjoying the reprieve.”
I motioned behind us with one hand. “By all means, return to your parents.”
“No, now that you know where Hattie is, I will need to keep an eye on you. You don’t get sick on horses, after all.”
I shook my head. What had I ever done to her to make her my keeper? “I don’t? Well, thank you for that at least.”
She turned up her head and grinned at me. “You’re very welcome.”
I blinked. That smile of hers was forced at best and, at worst, it was a smile that took pleasure in tormenting me, and yet it somehow drew me in nevertheless. I pulled my gaze from hers and looked for Charlie.
He’d reached a turn in the path, but instead of continuing, he’d stopped and waited for us, waving us on and hopping from one foot to the other in anticipation.
The closer we got, the more energy seemed to course through him. When we were within a few feet, he pointed down the path in front of him. “It is just this way.” He grabbed my hand once again and tugged me forward, skipping more than walking. I laughed and quickened my pace until I was jogging behind him.
The gentle murmur of water over stone was soft at first, but grew until the rushing sound of it surrounded us. I looked up at the terraced land in front of us, and there, tumbling down the rocks, was a small waterfall jutting out from the top level of the terrace and splashing down the side of the cliff-like drop.
We soon came to a bridge that crossed over the stream produced by the falling water. Charlie continued over it, and just ten feet beyond we were standing directly under the waterfall but several yards away from the face of it. A light mist coated the rocks on the cliff side, but only a few droplets reached as far as the path. A few more feet down the path, there was another bend and a stone bench sitting in a shady copse of trees.
Miss Blackwell came up behind me. “Mama loves to sit on that bench and read with the sound of the falls behind her when we have target practice. She says the waterfall drowns out some of the noise.”
“She loves to sit here even when there isn’t target practice,” Charlie added. “I do, too.” Charlie moved behind me and pushed me forward to the bench. It looked as though my search for Harriet was going to be paused so I could sit and listen to water sliding down rocks.
I didn’t have time for this. If I wasn’t careful, this house party would be over and I would be no closer to an engagement than I had been when I arrived.
But one look at Charlie’s face, and I knew I wouldn’t be escaping Miss Blackwell—not until I spent at least a few minutes here with her brother. I sat on the edge of the bench, thinking Charlie would take the place next to me, but instead he stepped back to Miss Blackwell and pushed her onto the bench. She sat, leaving a good two feet of space between us.
But Charlie, fool that he just might be, settled down on the other side of his sister, wriggling in until Miss Blackwell wasforced to slide so close to me the barest of movements would have us grazing elbows.
Her nearness brought with it the sharp, sweet smell of citrus—her scent, the one I’d been wearing after having spent a night in her dressing gown.
What an unmitigated disaster.
