"There is a goose," Genny said solemnly, pointing toward the water."It has been eyeing me with an air of deep personal insult.I require a champion."
Esme choked.James coughed into his glove.
"Miss Moreland," Harrison said, "you cannot possibly be serious."
"I am always serious about geese," she said."They bite, hiss, and judge.Come along, my lord.You may lecture it on the importance of order.Perhaps it will fall into line."
Without waiting for his agreement, she caught his sleeve and tugged.
To Esme's astonishment, Harrison allowed himself to be tugged.
They moved off along the path, Genny talking with extravagant animation, Harrison listening.
Esme watched them until the dappled shade swallowed them both.
"Do you suppose," she said, "that we are terrible people?"
"Undoubtedly," James said."But in this instance, I am innocent.I did not draw a single goose into matters."
She smiled."Still, it feels rather like handing someone a matchbook and pointing out a dry field."
He slid his hand over hers where it lay on the bench, his thumb tracing a small circle against her glove."If Woodmere wishes to stand in a thunderstorm with a lightning rod, that is his affair.Our charter is very clear.No reputations harmed, no true cruelty, and absolutely no more drowning."
"And no wagers," she reminded him."Not about people's lives."
He sobered, and she saw the man he had become.
"No wagers," he said."Only observations.For example, I observe that your brother has not looked that awake in months."
Esme followed his line of sight.Far ahead, Genny had indeed found a goose and was engaged in a heated discussion with it.Harrison stood between them.When the goose hissed, Genny hissed back.Harrisonlaughed.A short, startled sound.
Esme's throat went tight.
"Very well," she said."Perhaps a small observation is permitted.But if they topple into the Serpentine, I am blaming you."
"I shall add it to my list of sins," James took her hand in his.
She turned back to him.
"This is what I wanted.Not this bench, or the goose, but knowing that I chose this.I choseyou, myself."
He angled his body toward hers, his expression losing its habitual mockery."And if you ever wish to choose something else, you have only to say.I would rather be dismissed than become another suffocating force in your life."
She searched his face.Once, he had been all smirks and shrugs and scandals.Now she knew the weight behind the jokes, the care beneath the carelessness.
"I am afraid you are stuck with me, Lord Redford," she said, squeezing his hand.
"Excellent," he said."I never wanted peace, only a co-conspirator."
He lifted her gloved hand to his lips and kissed the inside of her wrist.The sensation sent her heart into a skip.
"Very well," she said, reclaiming her composure."Since we are speaking of co-conspirators, we must address Society business.The Mutual Mischief Society cannot remain a mere rumor.We require structure, minutes, a membership list."
"And rankings," he said, "of our finest accomplishments.I suggest placing the Serpentine incident near the top."
"That goes on your personal list," she said firmly."On the Society's, I suggest one, successfully diverting Lord Watford without breaking his heart, two, preventing my mother from arranging a sensible marriage without starting an actual war, and three?—"
"Three," he said quietly, "convincing one Lady Esme that her life need not be written in someone else's hand."
