Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86167 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Is it ‘ending up with someone’ when you pursue them to another continent?” asked Wescott, throwing a handful of snow at Townsend.
August watched the ensuing snowball fight, thinking about Felicity and her prince. Carlo had won her fair and square, paying no mind to August’s youthful adoration. You must get over it, he told himself. Just move on. Look around you at the whole wide, beautiful, wintry world and stop pining for what can never be.
He walked back toward the larger group, toward Elizabeth, who glowed in the midday sun. Her ebony hair was in braids, and her green eyes sparkled like the frosted holly and fir branches they gathered. She turned those eyes on him as he approached, studying him in her perceptive way before softening her expression into a smile.
“Are your friends making trouble again?” she asked.
He spread his arms. “Always.”
Now that his boyhood chums were all contentedly married, he felt out on his own even when they were together having fun. He hid his sudden sense of loneliness, of isolation, cloaking his expression by habit, because Elizabeth could read faces so well.
“I wanted to apologize again for last night,” she said, as he fell into step beside her. Their feet crunched through patches of ice and snow.
“Apologize for what?”
“For making such a poor show of playing the piano. I hope you did not feel foolish.”
He’d felt deep embarrassment but would never say so. “You’re the bride-to-be,” he said instead. “You may be as bad a pianist as you wish, and everyone must tell you it was lovely. I hope everyone did.”
“Everyone but Fortenbury,” she said in a muted tone. “I fear there shall be no more lessons once I’m wed.”
“Did you want more lessons?”
She looked over at him, the memory of their private hours writ upon her features like notes on a sheet of music. Notes he dared not play.
“I enjoyed our lessons immensely,” she said, holding his gaze. “Though I did not so much learn to play as learn…other things about you.”
“And I about you,” he replied. “I’ve known you since you were little more than an infant, and still, you surprised me a lot.”
A charming blush rose in her cheeks, like the blush he’d left on her backside too many times to be proper. “It was surprising. And…fun.”
With those soft words, she touched his arm and was gone, catching up to where Lord Fruityberries and his family awaited her, all of them wearing that half-frown that seemed a permanent part of their faces. The Fruityberries’ frown. Would Elizabeth develop it once she was married to him? God, he hoped not.
“Stop, all of ye,” called Lord Lisburne, spreading his arms wide as they entered a clearing. “There’s a wee cliff here you don’t want to walk off, but you might enjoy the view.”
The guests gathered at the edge of this “wee cliff,” in reality a frighteningly steep drop. The Duchess of Arlington, who’d grown up in these woods, went to join Elizabeth, and the dark-haired mother and daughter looked out together over the valley. There was nothing to see but wilderness, winter-stripped trees and brush, but it was a gorgeous view all the same. A wind swept up from below, causing everyone to move closer together, exclaiming against the cold.
“Look at the fires over there,” said Elizabeth, pulling her cloak closer around her. “What a cold day to gather outside.”
“What fires? Where?” asked her mother.
“There. A cluster of them.” She pointed a mittened hand at a corner of the woodlands below. August squinted through the bare trees.
“I don’t see any fires,” said the duke, as the guests stepped closer, scanning the scenery.
“Right there, Papa. There are four or five of them, great bonfires ranged in a circle.” She put a hand to her forehead, as if to block the glare.
“Perhaps the sun’s in your eyes,” said Lord Fortenbury.
“Oh no, it’s not the sun,” said Lord Lisburne. “I warrant the lass is seeing the Old People. They dwell thick in these parts.”
“Oh, Papa,” said the duchess. “There are no Old People, no faeries in the woods. That’s just a story people tell. A myth.”
“It’s no myth, Gwen, and ye know it. Your grandma could see the Old People in her day. They show themselves to those with the vision. Some called her mad, but that woman saw their celebrations and dancing certain times of year like clockwork.”
“Old People dancing in the woods?” Fortenbury sniffed. “Nonsense.”
“It’s not nonsense, my good man,” said Lisburne, puffing out his chest. “You’re not from these parts. You don’t know. It’s the solstice they’re celebrating.” He nodded. “The Old Ones are real enough.”
“It sounds like the devil’s work. Do you truly see fires, Elizabeth?”
She turned from the view, looking down. “Perhaps not. I don’t know. I thought… But it may have been something else.”