―You did it!" Annabel exclaimed, jumping to her feet. ―Six!"
―That wasn‘t me," Louisa said.
They both turned.
―Ladies," Sebastian said, bowing elegantly. He looked impossibly handsome in the mid-morning sunshine. Annabel had never realized just how much red he had in his hair. She had never seen him in the morning, she realized. They had met in the moonlight, and in the afternoon. At the opera she had seen him in the flickering light of a hundred candles.
The morning light was different.
―Mr. Grey," she murmured, feeling suddenly, unaccountably, shy.
―That was marvelous!" Louisa exclaimed. ―What‘s your record?"
―Seven."
―Really?"
Annabel was not sure she‘d ever seen her cousin so animated. Except possibly when she had been talking about those Gorely books. Which Annabel still needed to read. She‘d started Miss Sainsbury and the Mysterious Colonel the night before but had only got through two chapters.
Still, one could not help but be impressed by the adversity poor Miss Sainsbury had managed to overcome in just twenty-four pages. She‘d survived cholera, an infestation of mice, and turned her ankle twice.
Annabel‘s problems didn‘t seem half so dreadful by comparison.
―Do you skip stones, Miss Winslow?" Sebastian asked politely.
―Much to my everlasting shame, no."
―I can do six," Louisa said.
―But not today," Annabel said, unable to resist the poke.
Louisa held up an irritated finger and stomped off to the edge of the bank, looking for another suitable stone. Sebastian walked over and stood near Annabel, his hands clasped lightly behind his back.
―Does she know?" he asked quietly, motioning with his head toward Louisa.
Annabel shook her head.
―Does anyone?"
―No."
―I see."
She wasn‘t sure what he thought he saw, because she certainly didn‘t.
―Rather sudden invitation to the country, wouldn‘t you say?" he murmured.
Annabel rolled her eyes. ―I suspect my grandmother was behind it."
―And she invited me?"
―No, actually I believe she said she could not prevent your being invited."
He laughed at that. ―I am so loved."
Annabel‘s heart skipped a beat.
―What is it?" he asked, taking in her suddenly startled expression.
―I don‘t know. I—"
―This!" Louisa announced, marching back over. She was holding aloft a round, flat stone. ―This is the perfect skipping stone."
―May I see?" Sebastian asked.
―Only if you promise not to throw it."
―I give you my word."
She handed him the rock and he turned it over in his hand, testing the feel and weight of it. He gave it back with a little shrug.
―You don‘t think it‘s good?" Louisa asked, looking a bit put out.
―It‘s not bad ."
―He‘s trying to prick your confidence," Annabel called.
Louisa gasped. ―Is that true?"
Sebastian gave Annabel a lazy smile. ―You know me so well, Miss Winslow."
Louisa stalked to the water‘s edge. ―That was positively ungentlemanly of you, Mr. Grey."
Sebastian chuckled and leaned against the rock where Annabel was sitting. ―I like your cousin,"
he said.
―I like her, too."
Louisa took a deep breath, assumed full concentration, and sent the stone forth, with what Annabel thought was an amazingly sharp flick of her wrist.
They all counted. ―One…two…three…four…five…six!"
―Six!" Louisa shrieked. ―I did it! Six! Ha!" This was directed at Annabel. ―I told you I could do six."
―Now you have to do seven," Sebastian said.
Annabel sputtered with laughter.
―Not today I don‘t," Louisa declared. ―Today I glory in my sixdom."
―Sixdom?"
―Sixitude."
Annabel started to grin.
―Sixulation," Louisa proclaimed. ―Besides," she added, cocking her head toward Sebastian, ―I haven‘t seen you do seven."
He held up his hands in defeat. ―It‘s been many, many years."
Louisa gave them both a regal smile. ―On that note, I believe I shall take myself off to celebrate.
I shall see the both of you later. Perhaps much later." And with that she departed, leaving Annabel and Sebastian quite alone.
―Did I say I like your cousin?" Sebastian mused. ―I do believe I love her." He tilted his head toward. ―Purely platonically, of course."
Annabel took a deep breath, but when she let it out, she felt shaky and nervous. She knew he wanted an answer, and he deserved one. But she had nothing. Just an awful, empty feeling inside.
―You look tired," she said. Because he did.
He shrugged. ―I didn‘t sleep well. I rarely do."
His voice sounded odd to her, and she regarded him more closely. He wasn‘t looking at her; his eyes were fixed on some thoroughly random spot in the background. A tree root, by the looks of it. Then he looked down at his feet, one of which was pushing loose dirt around on the ground.
There was something familiar about his expression, and then it came to her—he looked exactly as he had that day in the park, right after he‘d shot apart the target.
And then hadn‘t wanted to talk about it.
―I‘m sorry," she said. ―I hate it when I cannot fall asleep."
He shrugged again, but the movement was starting to look forced. ―I‘m used to it."
She didn‘t say anything for a moment, and then she realized that the obvious question was: