“I do believe I’ll join you.”
Kitty bit back a groan as Charles made an appearance. Beside her, James stiffened, as if waiting for Charles to challenge him about last night, but Charles ignored him and sent Kitty a long, lingering glance. Clearly, he hadn’t taken her refusal seriously. She fervently hoped he didn’t think she was playing hard to get.
James gave a disdainful sniff. “If you think you can keep up, Willingham.”
Twenty minutes later their small group set off. It consisted of Lady Snaresbrook, Cecily, Ariadne Cushing, John Bryant, Earl of Somerton, Charles, Kitty, and James.
Due to the nature of the narrow paths they were forced into ever-changing pairings and Kitty couldn’t help but be amused by Charles’s attempts to walk beside her. He was continually thwarted by the rest of the group, not least by Lady Snaresbrook, who regaled them all with rather bawdy reminiscences of her three deceased husbands.
Frustratingly, James kept his distance, and they reached Bocka Morrow before Kitty had a chance to talk with him.
They ambled down the pretty village main street, passing the blacksmith and wheelwright and stopping to look in the window of the apothecary’s shop. A few of the wedding guests who weren’t staying at the castle itself were taking refreshments at the benches outside The Mermaid’s Kiss, on Castle Street, and polite greetings were exchanged.
“Ah, there’s the new bookshop,” Ariadne exclaimed.
White letters on a forest green sign pronounced Penneck’s books, and they all stepped inside the rather gloomy interior. Kitty began browsing the shelves, searching for something of interest, and trying to ignore Charles, who was lurking nearby and feigning an interest in the section on astronomy.
She pulled out a hefty volume. “Ah. Here it is! Mr. Makepeace’s translation of Homer. Did you know, Charles, that the author, Mr. Makepeace, is a guest at the castle? Aunt Stella and I had a fascinating discussion with him about Ancient Greece.” She tilted her head. “Have you ever read the Odyssey?”
Charles made a horrified face. “Goodness no, it’s all Greek to me!” He chuckled at his own joke. “Too much reading gives me a headache.”
Behind him, Kitty saw James roll his eyes, and bit her lip. Kissing aside, she and Charles were most definitely unsuited. She loved reading and couldn’t imagine marrying a man who never read anything more than The Racing Post.
“I’ve read it,” James murmured, earning him a scowl of dislike from Charles.
“It’s one of my favorites,” Kitty admitted. “Andrew and I always pretended we were on the adventures, right alongside Odysseus.”
She sneaked another glance at James. He’d been on those adventures, too. How she missed those easy days.
She put the book aside and selected another. “This one’s perfect for Aunt Stella—a book of Cornish legends. King Arthur is said to have been conceived at Tintagel, just to the north of here. And there’s a place called Merlin’s cave, too, after the legendary sorcerer.”
Charles made a dismissive sound. “Pfft. Fairy tales.”
“Most legends don’t just appear from nowhere,” Kitty said. “Most are based on a grain of truth.”
“And embellished along the way,” he snorted. “Until they’re quite unrecognizable.”
She shrugged, but his dismissive tone was irritating. “They’re important stories. They give people hope.”
James stepped forward. “Especially in times like these, with a tyrant like Napoleon ravaging the continent.”
Kitty nodded, pleased that he understood. “Exactly. And while he might seem invincible, that’s what legends are all about. A terrible foe being vanquished; a dragon. A giant. A despot.”
Charles gave a sniff.
“And speaking of dragons,” Kitty continued, warming to her theme, “I’d like to go digging for fossils in the cliffs. A woman named Mary Anning recently discovered some enormous skeletons, entombed in the rock, just up the coast at Lyme Regis. Nobody knows how they got there. Perhaps they’re the remnants of dragons?”
Charles let out an incredulous laugh. “Oh, come now. Surely you don’t believe in such things. Dragons are a myth.”
Kitty shrugged. “Why not? There are plenty of things we can’t explain. Think of all the people around here who believe in pixies and fairies and goblins and the like.”
She sent Charles a hard stare, to remind him that he himself had blamed a specter for his misfortune last night. “Why, Castle Keyvnor is famed for its ghosts. Just because there’s no physical evidence of such things, that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Some things can’t be seen or heard but are still real.”
Like love.
The errant thought caught her off-guard.
Charles turned away, as if the conversation bored him, and Kitty expelled a soft, angry breath.
