Page 57 of How to Cross a Marquess (The Way to a Lord's Heart 3)

She didn’t have to linger long before he arrived. “It’s so pleasant to find you here instead of James and Alistair and Donald waiting to plan some minor deviltry,” he said as he brought his horse up beside hers.

“Is it?”

“The last time we four gathered, we decided to set a litter of piglets loose at the church fete.”

“I remember that.”

He looked down at her. The tenderness in his eyes rendered her momentarily speechless. The last time they’d been alone, they’d been drowned in kisses.

“Where shall we ride?” he continued. “It’s going to be a hot day. I wish I could take you swimming.”

“In the sea?” The currents made that a chancy proposition, even if the shore hadn’t been unacceptably public.

“No, I know a little pond in a hollow on the side of a hill. It’s hidden by bushes and banks of reeds. Spring fed, wonderfully cool on the hottest day. We boys used to swim there.”

“And we’d undoubtedly be caught by someone if we ventured there.”

“I don’t think so. Did you ever hear of the place? Years ago, I mean.”

Fenella shook her head.

“So there is one secret we managed to keep.” Roger seemed inordinately pleased by the idea.

What a joy it would be to throw off her clothes and plunge into cool water and consign all her worries to perdition! But she’d discovered a dreadful thing in the night, alone in the darkness. Troubling half dreams had plagued her. While she was not asleep but drifting, she’d found that the advent of these malicious letters had roused the timid girl she used to be. Something about older ladies coming to warn her—as her mother had so often scolded about standards that she’d never seemed able to meet—had pushed her back into the past. The disappointment of one’s parents was a heavy weight, she thought as she and Roger set off across the field. And the sense of being whispered about throughout the neighborhood was as bad, or worse. The young, fearful Fenella was urging caution, recalling old mockery and hurts.Shewanted to hide or run away, far from prying eyes. It was mortifying to find that her weakness was still there. She wanted to take bold steps, to dismiss mean-spirited talk with a sweep of her hand, but she couldn’t quite.

“We could go and look at it,” Roger said. “I don’t suppose we can actually swim.”

What was he… Oh, the pond. “John seems to pop up everywhere.”

“True. And Tom as well.” Roger frowned. “If they find the place and blab about it—” He brightened. “They’ll both be leaving soon. I’ll swear them to secrecy.”

Fenella had to laugh. “Would you really swim there now?”

“Of course. It’s a marvelous spot. You’d love it, I promise. Let’s go and see.”

“Not today.”

“What’s wrong?” he said. He examined her face. “I can tell something’s wrong.”

“Can you?” If she told him about the letters, he’d be furious. If she didn’t, he would hear anyway, probably after he made some embarrassing misstep. “Papa is declining. I can’t stay out long.”

“Is that all?” He held up a hand. “I don’t mean it’s a small thing, but he has been ill for a long time.”

Of course she had to tell him. For all sorts of reasons, but mainly she didn’t want to hide things from him. That never answered.

“Fenella?”

“Something’s happened.”

“Not good, I take it.”

“No.” Fenella took a breath and told him the bad news that the neighborhood committee had brought her.

Roger began to mutter well before she was done. Curses, she thought, though he kept them inaudible. He crushed his mount’s reins in his fist. “Damn the infernal impudence,” he said when she finished. He looked as if he’d very much like to hit something.

“So you see, this clandestine game you imagined isn’t possible. People will begin to wonder what we have to hide. Indeed, I think we will have to stand back a bit and—”

“I’ll fix this,” he interrupted. “It’s my fault. I’ll make it right.”

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