Page 27 of The Gentlewoman Companion

“Oh,” she said, when they arrived at the boathouse. “I have never seen such a thing. It goes right into the water.”

The stone boathouse sheltered boats but also contained small living quarters where he and his father had stayed for days at a time to fish when he was a boy.

Stepping into the room, Miss Thorpe said, “It’s a little cottage.”

“Through there is the dock.” Halverton indicated a door. “Shall we wait for the others before getting into the boat?” The clouds were moving in, but perhaps they could still beat the storm.

Laden with saddle bags, Graham entered the open door and began setting food on the table, along with two flasks of lemonade. When he finished, it looked like a jumbled array of ingredients. If Halverton’s mother had hoped for a more appealing presentation, she’d asked the wrong person to help.

Miss Thorpe noticed the disorganized meal and began opening cupboards and drawers. She found bowls and a knife, arranged meats and cheeses together, placed fruit in a basket, berries in a bowl. Graham produced a platter. She grinned at him and sliced bread onto it.

“Do you think my mother will be displeased if we eat before she arrives?”

“Not if her son is starving,” Miss Thorpe said.

Graham suddenly smacked his leg. “I forgot the serving dishes.”

“No matter. We can use these.” Miss Thorpe carried a small stack of mismatched plates to the table.

Halverton was parched. “Are there cups?”

“Just three, which we might save for the others,” she said.

“I shall see to the boats and get you on the pond before the rain comes.” Graham stepped into the adjoining room, leaving the door ajar.

Miss Thorpe swiveled toward Halverton. “Rain?” Her shoulders sagged as she took a bottle of lemonade. “I’m absolutely chacking.” She drank, the sinews of her neck drawing a line up the curve to her jaw. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, pausing when she found him staring at her. “Oh! Pardon me! I do forget to be civilized. Please don’t tell your mother.”

“Not at all.” In truth, she stupefied him. “We share a cup each Sunday.”

He took the proffered bottle and swallowed sweet sunshine, keenly aware that her lips had just left the place where his now rested.

When again he looked at her, she was about to take a bite of bread layered with meat and cheese. “Would you like one?” But he was distracted by a blonde curl grazing her forehead and the tiny trail of freckles dotting her nose. She didn’t wait for him to answer before stuffing bread with meat and cheese into her mouth.

His mother pulled the door open. Mrs. Beecham stepped through, followed by her sister.

“Lovely. What an agreeable cottage.” Mrs. Beecham slowly rotated, taking in the boathouse. “Just as it should be.”

“Yes, but do you think it will rain?” Miss Thorpe asked.

“Without doubt,” Miss Fischer said. “We cannot stay long. I am glad I had the presence of mind not to leave Ranunculus behind.”

“At least let us have the pleasure of eating with our hands.” Mrs. Beecham reached for the bread.

“Excuse us for beginning before your arrival, my lady.” Miss Thorpe rose and offered her chair to his mother. “Lord Halverton was nearly famished to death.”

“You are welcome to it, but I wish the weather would hold.” She sat down and gestured for her friends to sit. “A lovely day cut short.”

Halverton went to Miss Thorpe, who stood near a window, chewing the last of her food and looking at the sky.

“We could take a boat now, if you like?” he asked her.

“Oh! I would.”

“Splendid idea. Go on before the clouds burst,” his mother said, before turning to her friends.

Halverton led Miss Thorpe into the other half of the boathouse, with its u-shaped dock. A little fishing boat bobbed in the water. The formerly bright blue sky now reflected darkly in the water.

Halverton steadied the boat and offered Miss Thorpe a hand.