Page 84 of Winterset
“Indeed.”
“So ... how was it that Hannah came to marry your brother, then?”
“Well, I suppose because he is better at chess than I am.”
Her brow furrowed, and then a thoughtful expression took over her face. “Is that why you aren’t close with your brother? Because of Hannah?”
“No,” I said too quickly, then added, “Well, she is part of the reason, but not in the way you are probably thinking.” I hesitated but said, “My brother and I were not on good terms long before they fell in love, but the way in which he courted her did nothing to aid my affection for him.”
“Do you approve of their union?” she asked.
“I do.” Sometimes, I still couldn’t believe they were married. They’d hated each other as children—or so I’d thought—and I disapproved of how their relationship started, but I did not begrudge their union. How could I? They were a perfect pair. My feelings for Damon were complicated, but I honestly only wanted for their happiness.
“But ... ?” Miss Lockwood squinted as if doing so would help her see my past more clearly.
“But nothing,” I said, having no intention of sharing any more details with her. It was far too humiliating. “You are working too hard to puzzle this out, Miss Lockwood. We should turn the topic of our conversation to you now.”
“I’d rather we keep talking about you.”
“You are quite persistent, aren’t you?”
“To the point of impertinence.” She shrugged one shoulder. “Forgive me if I am overeager for something new to discuss. I have not spoken to another soul besides Bexley and Mrs. Owensby in two years.”
“I daresay you are using your circumstance to your advantage, Miss Lockwood.”
“One must play the cards one has been dealt, sir.” She smiled coyly.
“Sir?” I protested. “Come now, Miss Lockwood, we have been living together for weeks now. Please, call me Oliver.”
She scoffed. “I will do no such thing.”
“What will you call me, then?” I asked, amused. “I am growing so tired ofsir.”
“I should thinkMr. Jenningswould be quite acceptable,” she said, smoothing her plait playfully over her shoulder.
I tilted my head side to side, pretending to weigh the merit. “Under normal circumstances, I would agree with you. But our situation is not normal now, is it? Therefore, you shall call me Oliver, and I shall call you Kate.” I reached across the table and teasingly tugged the end of her plait.
She stiffened, then shot to her feet.
Surprised by her swift response, I stood too. I searched our surroundings, glancing over my shoulder out the window, worried that someone might have ventured past the window and seen her. But I saw nothing.
“I am going to go to bed now.” Her voice was thin and distant.
“Are you unwell?”
“No, yes.” She shook her head. “I just have to go. Excuse me.” She sidestepped out from behind the table and pushed in her chair.
I immediately offered her my arm to assist her.
She looked at my arm like I was offering her a snake, her eyes wide with fear.
Because of me? Because I’d suggested we use our Christian names? Because I’d tugged her hair?
“I will take my breakfast in my bedchamber tomorrow,” she said.
“Of course, if that is your wish. But what has happened? Have I done something wrong?”
“Nothing.” She raised her chin and blinked rapidly as if to hold tears at bay.
