Page 13 of Dare it all for Love

“You’re not delicate, only idle,” Evie remarked.

“Evie!” Florence exclaimed, a little shocked at her speaking so rudely to him.

She knew that Evie and the comte were friends, but her sister’s manner towards the man seemed far too easy. The teasing way they spoke to each other revealed a close relationship, more like with a brother than a friend, but if others who did not know them heard, they would assume a different story.

Evie blushed and looked to the comte, who regarded her over the rim of his coffee cup and shrugged.

“Well, you’re not wrong,” he said, grinning at the relief in her eyes. “But your sister is right too. You must watch that dreadful tongue of yours, child, or people will talk.”

He drank his coffee, watching Evie, who sighed heavily.

“I suppose,” she said reluctantly.

They ate in silence for a while as the comte finished his coffee and got to his feet. He laughed again at the look of consternation on Evie’s face and reached out to tweak her nose.

“Brat,” he remarked, before leaving them to finish their breakfast.

Evie met Florence’s considering gaze, a surprisingly defiant glint in her own. “We’re friends, Flo. He’s all alone now his brother is married and busy with his own life. Louis doesn’t make friends easily, but… we get along. He can be himself with me because he knows I’m not interested in him like that. It’s… comfortable, that’s all.”

Florence nodded, hearing the truth in her sister’s words. “I know, love. I just don’t want to see you get hurt, and you know people will think the worst if they see the ease of manner between you. My word, just hearing you address him as Louis would be enough to ruin you. You must remember to be more formal in company. Promise me you’ll be careful?”

“I promise,” Evie muttered, looking very much as if she wanted to roll her eyes.

They finished their breakfast and hurried out to the stables, where everyone else was already assembled. They were riding out to Hever Castle today, a trip Florence had been looking forward to. She’d not seen Henry since Sunday at church, but he was supposed to be accompanying their party today. Most of the men hereabouts had been out with their guns, since the twelfth of August had marked the beginning of the shooting season. Shots had been resounding constantly across the countryside and Florence had sent up a prayer to the poor birds, hoping more of them were surviving than it sounded like.

There was quite a party for their trip and the weather promised to be perfect, for it was warm and bright, but with a playful breeze that rustled the treetops and kept the heat from being oppressive. Florence had also worn a green riding habit, but hers was a slightly brighter shade than her sister’s. She had a matching hat, which she wore at a jaunty angle with a plume of yellow feathers. Mama had said she looked very dashing.

The stables were all a-bustle as everyone waited whilst the grooms dashed back and forth, ensuring all the guests were mounted correctly for the day. Florence hurried over to Grace as soon as she saw her.

“Are you well?” she asked in an undertone, noting she was not in her riding habit.

Grace smiled and nodded. “I shall travel in the coach with Lady Montagu and the children,” she said, reaching out and taking Florence’s hand. “Don’t worry so. Let us enjoy a lovely day. Please.”

Florence stared at Grace in wonder. The girl was facing an unimaginable future, yet she stood with dignity, determined to enjoy her last weeks of freedom.

“Very well,” Florence said, squeezing her fingers.

She turned to see Mr Oak watching them, a look in his eyes she could not decipher. Henry arrived then, moving to greet Mr Oak, who nodded at him.

“A fine day for it.” Henry gestured to the clear blue sky above them.

Mr Oak gave the sky a frowning glance.

“For now,” he said ominously.

Henry laughed, looking perplexed. “Sterling, there’s not a cloud to be seen.”

“There will be a storm before evening.”

“You can’t possibly know that,” Henry replied, his scepticism obvious.

Mr Oak just shrugged, his gaze drifting to Grace once more. Florence frowned, moving away from him, unsettled and uncertain as to whether she liked the fellow or not. He was always so aloof. Hearing her name called, she hurried over as her horse was led out for her.

Florence was delighted when she saw the beautiful palomino mare with a golden coat and white-blonde mane. The horse was lively, dancing a little in her eagerness to be off as the stable boy brought her out.

“Can you handle her?”

Florence turned to see Henry regarding the mare with a slight frown. For a moment she bristled with irritation that he believed her incapable, but then she realised he was concerned for her safety. The thought warmed her, and her annoyance dissipated.