Page 69 of Love Wasn’t Built in a Day

“It will be magnificent,” Cilly said, sounding a little awed at the prospect. Bearing in mind they’d grown up in Ealdor Palace, this was quite a compliment.

A fierce surge of pride swept through Hetty on Gideon’s behalf, and she swore that if fate gave her the opportunity, she would do everything in her power to see Gideon succeed.

Urging the pony back into a trot, they sped down the road at a merry clip until a figure ahead of them caught her eye.

“Oh, look, there he is! Gideon!” she called, waving at him as he turned.

Her heart did a happy little somersault in her chest. The knowledge that she would be in his company again warmed her and made her feel as though her blood fizzed in her veins. Was this what love felt like?

She slowed the pony and jumped down, barely resisting the urge to run into his arms but self-conscious as Cilly was watching them.

Gideon greeted her sister, who returned a polite nod. “An hour and a half, Hetty,” Cilly repeated, moving to the centre of the bench and gathering the reins.

“Yes, Mama,” Hetty retorted, not feeling she had needed the reminder.

Gideon looked between them, registering the unspoken tension that had not entirely dissipated.

“The picnic is in the back,” Hetty said, picking up the blanket she’d brought as Gideon hefted the study wicker basket. He looked at her in surprise.

“Good Lord, what is in here?”

She smiled at him. “Lovely things,” she said, turning to wave at Cilly. “See you later.”

Cilly nodded and turned the pony, taking him back the way they’d come.

Gideon watched her go. “She didn’t mind?”

“No, not really, though she’s still annoyed with me.” She turned to look at him as they made their way towards the beach. “Did you speak to Damian yet?”

“No. I’ve not seen him. He wasn’t around last night, and I’ve been on site since seven thirty. Don’t worry. I will.”

“I know you will.”

The beach here was unlike most in this part of England, except for Camber Sands, which lay a little farther along the coast. It felt surprisingly extensive and rather wild, different from the usual shingle beaches along the coastline.

A vast area of soft, golden sand swept for miles in either direction. Behind the beach, there were rolling sand dunes covered with long tufts of marram grass that rippled in the wind. Open and airy, the skies seemed larger here than anywhere Hetty had ever been before, with no buildings to interrupt the view.

The tide was in presently, but at low tide would retreat far, far away, leaving broad, shimmering acres of wet sand.

For a picnic—and what Hetty had been fondly imagining as a tryst—the dunes were the perfect shelter, creating little hidden pockets, perfect for sitting out of the wind and out of sight.

“I’d never seen a beach like this before I came here,” Gideon admitted as they slid and clambered over the dunes. “It feels like a miniature desert meeting the sea.”

“Neither had I. It’s rather special, I think. Oh, this is perfect,” Hetty exclaimed, gesturing to a cosy little nook where the long grass lined the dunes, creating a sheltered alcove.

Gideon nodded his approval, so she spread the rug and sat as Gideon set the basket in front of her and sat at her side.

For a moment it seemed awkward and Hetty shifted uncertainly, wondering if she appeared gauche and silly, or dreadfully bold. But then Gideon reached out and caught her hand, raising her fingers to his lips and kissing them.

“Good day, Lady Henrietta.”

Hetty blushed, touched by the formality as much as the warmth in his usually cool grey eyes.

“Good day to you, Mr Bramwell.”

He seemed aware of her sudden shyness and let go of her hand, giving her space. “Well then, what is in that weighty basket, for I’m famished.”

Grateful for the chance to busy herself, Hetty undid the straps and began unpacking.