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She just had to wait until the right moment.
***
Lord Northrive jumped into the stream before Violette could catch up to him.
“Very well, you win,” she said, panting as she came to a stop beside him. “You may be the faster runner, but I am the finer cricket player.”
“That may be true. I still want to get my own back for that.”
“For what— ah!” She squealed in surprise as he reached down and splashed at her with water from the stream. Not to be outdone, Violette jumped into the water and started splashing him back until they were both sodden with water. “We shall have to stop before one of us drowns!” she said comically, to which he stopped and laughed too.
When all was still again, he reached out a hand toward her. She froze, uncertain what he was doing.
“Some mud on your cheek from the stream,” he said, wiping it away.
With Lord Northrive’s hand having passed across her cheek, Violette’s breath was hitched in anticipation. They were so close that she could have kissed him, but here so close to the manor she couldn’t risk it. She was Mr Victor Blake, after all.
“You are yet to grow a beard, my friend,” Lord Northrive said with humour, softening the moment even more.
“I have never been very good at that,” she said, knowing how true the words were.
“Is there something on your mind?” he asked, clearly sensing her changed behaviour.
“Yes…in fact, there is something I must tell you,” she said, taking a step toward him in the shallows of the stream. She couldn’t help it anymore. Sherborne was right, after all, she was in love with him, and she couldn’t tell him that whilst she was still Mr Victor Blake.
“What is it?” Lord Northrive asked, looking concerned, staring back down at her with his dark hair plastered wet across his forehead. She was teased by the sight, longing to brush it back from his forehead and play with those short locks.
“I must tell you something about me. The truth is that I am not….” She didn’t get any further, for Lord Northrive snapped his gaze away, turning his head. There was the sound of a carriage nearby, quickly approaching. Violette looked away too, to see a carriage riding down the path, heading straight for the house.
“Ah, they are here,” Lord Northrive said, clambering out of the pond. “Apologies, Mr Blake, can this wait?”
“Erm…y-yes, of course,” she said, stammering in surprise.
“It will be the Duke of Overton. My father has invited him and his daughters to stay with us for a few days.”
“Oh, right,” Violette said, climbing out of the pond too. “You didn’t mention them before.”
“That is because I only received a letter about them this morning. I will have to choose one of the daughters to be my bride.”
“What?” Violette tripped on the path, feeling as though the world had slipped away from beneath her.
