Page 83 of Winterset
“Nothing. Justbefore.” The memory of playing cards with Damon and Hannah had slipped so suddenly into my mind and then out my mouth that I hadn’t had time to censor it.
“Are you and your brother close?” she asked.
I dealt the cards. “We used to be when we were young.”
“Not now?”
“No.”
“Why not? What happened?”
“That is a very long and uninteresting story,” I said.
“I doubt that. Will you tell me about him?”
Uncomfortable, I rearranged my cards. I had no desire to talk about him, but maybe my vulnerability would inspire hers, and I relented. “What would you like to know?”
“To start, his name.”
“Lord Winfield. However, he refuses to use his proper title and insists everyone continue to call him by his courtesy title Lord Jennings.” It was so like him to think himself above Society’s customs.
“Those are histitles,” Miss Lockwood said. “But what is his name? What doyoucall him?”
“Nothing, if I can help it.” I’d meant my words to sound teasing, but even to my ears, they sounded petulant.
Miss Lockwood’s lips scrunched to one side in confusion, or perhaps reproof.
“His name is Damon, but I have not spoken to him in over two years.”
“You have a living, breathing brother, and you have not spoken to him intwo years?” She blew out a breath. “I don’t understand.”
“Perhaps I will explain it to you one day.” I offered her a smile, hoping to end the conversation.
“Not now?”
“No reason to ruin a perfectly good game. It is your turn, by the way.”
“Hmm.” She set down a pair of cards. “Well, if you won’t tell me about your brother, at least tell me about your best friend you mentioned.”
“I should be happy to. Hannah is—”
“Hannah?” Miss Lockwood looked up from studying her cards. “Your best friend is awoman?”
“Well, she wasn’t a woman back then; she was a girl. But yes, growing up, my best friend was female.”
“Oh.” Miss Lockwood trained her gaze on her cards. “How nice.”
“It was nice. But now she’s married to my elder brother, so I suppose they are best friends now.” I pressed on before she could ask questions. “Hannah visited Summerhaven, my childhood home, every summer. Our mothers were best friends, you see.”
Miss Lockwood nodded, listening. “Are you close in age?”
“Hannah’s mother and me? Not particularly.”
Miss Lockwood looked to the heavens. “You know what I meant.”
I smiled at her. “Yes. Hannah and I are close in age. Only a year separates us.”
“You two must have been very close.”
