Page 43 of Valentine Nook
The sign hanging above says this booth is the number one purveyor of love potions and spells in England, and next to it sits an A-frame listing out times for card readings.
It’s cute and eye-catching, and I want to stop to see what it’s all about.
I could certainly do with a little extra help in the romance department, but I’m hurrying to keep up with Lando’s long strides, which appear to have lengthened.
“Orlando—” the lady from behind the table calls, and I recognize her as the woman Clemmie pulled me away from on my first tour around the village.
Lando appears to share the same opinion as his sister. “Not now, Agatha. Must dash.”
I’m still jogging to keep up with him as we enter a second field.
“Yoo-hoo, Your Grace. YourGrace. . .hellooo?—”
Lando turns at the sound of his name being called to find a small older lady rushing toward him, carrying a large wicker basket. She’s moving with surprising speed for how heavy thebasket must be, given it’s full to the brim. She must have bought up half the stalls already.
She’s also wearing rain boots with her skirt. IknewI’d blend in.
I want to laugh, but next to me, Lando stiffens. It’s so slight, virtually imperceptible unless it was a movement you were also familiar with. It’s that protective need to slip into another version of yourself and don your armor. One I know well.
I get the impression that if he could rush away from this lady too, he would. But it’s too late.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Fraser.”
“Wonderful fair this year, Your Grace.” She beams up at him adoringly. “We’re so happy to see you out and about again.”
She makes it sound like he’s been locked away with a contagious disease.
One glance at Lando and I can tell he’s not sure he wants to be out and about. It’s also painfully obvious that his being out and about is not a subject he wishes to discuss, but Mrs. Fraser isn’t one to pick up on social cues.
“I was just saying to Judy Dennett that you’re much better off . . . with the right woman—” Her gaze moves slowly in my direction.
Lando clears his throat loudly enough to stop her talking. “Okay, thank you, Mrs. Fraser . . . I appreciate it . . . Don’t want to keep you, that basket’s looking heavy, and we must dash . . . Best pony to judge . . .”
Lando’s long fingers grip my arm, and he tugs me away before Mrs. Fraser can continue, and I get enough information to piece together what she’s talking about.
“Sorry about that,” he mutters, releasing me but only once we’ve disappeared through another wave of people who’ve arrived in the last ten minutes. “I didn’t mean to grab you.”
“That’s okay. She seemed . . .enthusiastic.” I grin.
Immediately, his shoulders relax, and he nods. “You couldsay that. Mrs. Fraser is—how should we put it? She loves getting in people’s business.”
“A nosy old hag?”
“Something like that.” He sighs, though the beginnings of a smile reappear on his face as he stares at me.
I can see that he’s expecting me to ask what she was referring to. I can tell he’s bracing for it, but if it’s a subject that makes himthatuncomfortable, I don’t need to know unless he wants to tell me.
Instead, I go with, “So we’re judging a pony competition, are we?”
The expression that flickers across his face is both gratitude and relief. “Yes. Yes, we are. If you’d like to join me, that is. I have to warn you, though, we don’t usually have celebrities of your caliber here.”
“Oh?”
“No, it’s usually the local newsreader, perhaps a B-lister visiting the area. No one as Hollywood as you.” He grins. “It might cause quite the stir.”
My hand clasps my chest. “Will I need security?”
In the split second, before I blink, I catch his pupils flare, and he slowly shakes his head. “No, I’ve got you.”
