Page 67 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

Silence stretched between them, broken only by a soft breeze whispering through the olive trees. She was more subdued this evening, less forthcoming. He didn’t know what to say to reach her.

“I’m finished,” she said at last. “Will you pass my throw?”

He averted his gaze as he retrieved the swath of fabric, extending his arm her direction. He waited, fighting the urge to fill the space with aimless chatter. Whatever she was mulling over required time.

“Should I stand watch while you bathe?” she asked and turned her back.

He smiled. It was important to her to be viewed as an equal in the field. “A brief dip would feel good.”

He stripped down to nothing and dived into the water. Refreshed, he dried off with her throw, dressed, and walked back to the campsite with her.

“We should set up our shelter,” she said, and he accepted her help.

Once they secured a tarp over a low branch, they sat together by the fire. Jonathan dug a wrapped bundle of salted cod from the saddlebag and offered her a piece. She waved him off.

“We need our strength for tomorrow,” he said.

She accepted the fish, wrinkling her nose as she sniffed it. When he took a hearty bite and smiled, she followed suit with a much smaller bite. She looked ready to spit it out but swallowed, grimacing the whole time.

“I know for certain there won’t be any fish on my expeditions,” she said. “That is awful.”

He laughed. “Sometimes there’s no choice.”

“Planning ahead is a must.” She swiveled toward him. “Can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“I find myself annoyed with Uncle Charles. He always encouraged me to strike out on my own someday. He called himself a lone wolf, but it never made sense. Wolves are pack animals. They need each other, so why doesn’t he want me to join him? Working together like you and I have today is more logical.”

Jonathan shifted on the ground, feeling slightly ill. Keeping her at a distance, lying to her, was like being buried beneath rubble. He was trapped, and she was unreachable.

“I—” He took a deep breath. “I think I understand a little about your uncle’s reluctance. It has nothing to do with you or your abilities. You’re an amazing asset, and I would love to collaborate with you. I do love it.”

She smiled and reached for his hand. He gave her fingers a light squeeze before standing to feed another log onto the fire, stoking the flames to avoid looking at her.

“During the war,” he said, “there was a movement to enlist the help of antiquarians to gather intelligence. It was work as usual, but we were told to listen.”

Her soft intake of breath made him wince. She came to stand next to him, taking his hand once more. When he looked down, her eyes caught the light.

“You were one of them,” she said softly.

He didn’t move. She wet her lips, her expression expectant.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“You knew what to do with the thief. He didn’t surprise you.”

“No, even listening can be dangerous. I learned how to defend myself.”

“Just like Uncle Charles.”

“I-I don’t know.”

Wedmore was no longer involved in the training by the time Jonathan was recruited. He had never seen Wedmore in action.

“The fire is going well,” she said, jarring him back to the present. “Come sit with me.”

She led him away from the overbearing heat and sat cross-legged on the ground. “Was it something you wanted to do?” she asked as he joined her.