Thirteen

“?????????????”

—Jonas, in a circle around Miss Hancock’s name in his notebook

There was a time, not so long ago that Jonas couldn’t remember it, when Miss Hancock had been merely a regular if somewhat annoying presence at the edge of his life, her connection to his sister the only reason she was granted importance in his mind.

That was before seeing her tromp across a field, smile wide, eyes bright, one hand slapped atop her bonnet as she tilted her head back to catch the sun full on her face. This dress was still far too fine for such a walk, but she charged forth as if she were dressed in rags, trampling any reminder that their stations were far apart.

Her sheer, unhidden joy thawed the image of a calculating society diamond.

Her laugh joined the trills of distant birds as they strode through the grass, following near-nonexistent paths normally trod by horses and servants.

It jarred the already cracked image he had of her. Who was the real Miss Hancock? A month ago he’d have thought that a ridiculous question because her character seemed blatantly apparent, but now . . .

Moments like this made him wonder.

Jonas glanced over his shoulder at the footman who was carefully placing his foot with each step as he searched the grass for who only knew what. The man had been brought along at Jonas’s insistence for the sake of propriety, but he was falling behind.

“Perhaps we should slow our pace,” Jonas said, though it pained him to do so. They were already striding at far less than his normal speed. “Lawrence seems to be having difficulty.”

Miss Hancock cast a glance over her shoulder and sighed. “I should have requested Thomas. The maids needed a footman to go with them to the market, though, and I didn’t want to wait.” She nudged Jonas with her elbow. “I suppose you’re now going to set me straight with some verse about how haste makes waste.”

Was that how she saw him? He dropped his gaze to the grass. Yes, he tended to attribute Bible verses to everything because it helped keep his own life grounded, but had he inadvertently taken to using them as weapons against other people? It was possible. It had been so long since anyone besides Sophia was in his life for an extended period of time that he might have loosened the walls around his tongue even as he erected more around his heart.

If he was using the Bible as a defense, or possibly even an offense, without conscious thought, he might have damaged someone else’s faith, dented their belief and trust.

That could not continue. “I hadn’t intended to, but I could think of one if it would make you happy.”

She gave an exaggerated gasp. “You mean you haven’t got one at the ready?”

This was a pointless chain of conversation that would not end well for him no matter which way it went. “Your man is still falling behind.”

Her head swung about in an exaggerated perusal of the surrounding area. “We’ve quite a while before we need worry about being out of his sight. Anyone who can see us can also see Lawrence, not that they’re going to care one way or the other.”

“You don’t think the people of Newmarket would find your walking across the fields alone interesting?”

“I’m not alone. I’m with you.”

“A fact that would make the news even more tantalizing.”

She frowned. “You don’t get to have it both ways.”

Jonas coughed. “I beg your pardon?”

“Either you are too far beneath me to be a proper companion, or you are an equal with whom I must guard my reputation. Do make up your mind so that I may adjust my actions accordingly. I, for one, think you have far too low an opinion of yourself.”

His opinion of himself wasn’t low. It was realistic. “This isn’t about how I value myself. It is about the impression my appearance has when others view it. That is what reputation is based upon.”

She smiled. “Then I have your permission to ignore what you think. Lovely.”

Bothersome woman. “That isn’t what I meant.”

Her grin grew wider. “That is what you said. And I’m fairly certain a man is supposed to mean what he says. Didn’t you quote that to me?”

Yes, he had uttered the verse that said a man’s yes should be yes when she’d extracted his promise, but he never meant to have it turned on him in this way. “My saying what I mean does not necessarily lead to your understanding what I intended.”

“You should speak more clearly.”

“You should listen less willfully.”

“I hardly think my independence is affecting the construction of your sentences.”

“No, but it does change the context of your interpretation.”

She bent a little to watch the way her skirt moved through a patch of tall wildflowers but didn’t lose the conversation. “You could take the hearer into consideration before speaking.”

The grin that stretched his lips was surprising and unnerving, but he could not will it away no matter how hard he tried. Was he enjoying this infernal exchange?

Thankfully, she was still captivated by the way the flower stems bent beneath her skirt and couldn’t see his face.

He cleared his throat. “You could take the speaker into account when you’re listening.”

“Oh, I do.” She turned her head to give him a saucy grin. “Which is why, whenever possible, I willfully twist your meanings to suit me. It may be wrong, but I find riling you up most enjoyable. I think, if you’ll allow yourself to admit it, you find it exhilarating as well.”

Did he? He must, because he was returning her grin and his heart was beating far faster than required by their current exertion. “Perhaps if you explained why you sought such an entertainment, I would see my way to enjoying it as well.”

“Perhaps.” She took an exaggerated step and kicked at a tall yellow flower. “I suppose it has been a while since you had to endure the veiled double meanings of English society.”

“I have never had to endure English society.”

Miss Hancock waved a hand in dismissal. “I doubt Irish society is all that different.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

She frowned, her delicate brows scrunching to nearly half their normal length. “I’m certain Sophia told me your father was a gentleman.”

“Who died when we were but seventeen. I never moved about in society.” Birth and destiny didn’t always align. He’d never expected very high connections, but even the respectability he’d been born to had been lost before he could grasp it.

“Oh.”

Silence fell heavy between them, throwing a blanket over the conversation that had been light and teasing just moments before. The shift was simply a reminder that the end of the road was not determined by the beginning. Life was not a set course but rather a meandering trail with forks and paths that could lead in a variety of directions.

“Well,” Miss Hancock said, her voice bright and cheery once more, swinging the mood of the moment into another sharp turn, “people are capable of hiding their true feelings no matter their class or location.”

He had to grant her that one. “So you like that I am blunt?”

“I like that you allow me to be so.”

What could he say to that? She sounded complimentary, and it may explain why he was enjoying this unexpected sparring. How long since he’d had the pleasure of speaking so freely with someone so quick-witted?

If only he could know she was being truthful and not making sport of him somehow. He’d like to think he was too smart for that, but she was far more skilled in the art of cutting conversation than he was.

They fell into silence once more, but this one seemed lighter.

As the woods shifted from distant shadow to distinct trees, her eyes grew wider and her smile of joy slid softly into one of awe and wonder. “I had no idea this was even here.” Then she looked about the area of large fields as far as the eye could see. “Why is this here?”

Jonas pointed into the trees. “There’s a spring. Several, actually. The waters join and flow through Exning. I don’t know where they go from there. Perhaps toward the River Cam or maybe underground like the waters in Newmarket.”

“Fascinating.” She breathed out the word, then fell silent again, gaze fixed upon the trees.

Jonas couldn’t stop watching her.

Did she truly view him as some sort of haven? A safe space where she could be herself without concern? The concept was thrilling and terrifying in turn. While it was flattering to be so trusted, he’d unleashed his pricklier comments in an attempt to keep her distant. Had he accomplished the opposite?

Had she somehow become a haven for him as well?

He tore his gaze from her profile and guided her into the shade of the trees.

She stumbled to a stop with a slight intake of breath. “Oh my. It’s a great deal cooler in here, isn’t it?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to make some remark about that being what happened when the sun was taken away, but he restrained himself. It suddenly seemed important that he not say anything discouraging or belittling. He may not know how he felt about her revelation, but that didn’t absolve him of the responsibility it created.

He cleared his throat and shoved his hands into his pockets as he looked around for something of interest to point out. “There’s more undergrowth at the edge because the sun reaches in. As we go farther, you’ll see less and less of it.”

She grinned. “An artist, a horseman, and now a botanist. Tell me, Jonas, is there anything you don’t know about?”

There were a great many things he didn’t know about, and he was quickly moving women to the top of that list. “Why would I speak on something I don’t know anything about?”

“And you know about plants?” she asked with a grin and a shake of her head as her eyes jumped around, taking in the scene like a child at a fair.

“A man left a book on plants behind at a show a few months after we joined the circus. It was something to read.”

When was the last time he’d mentioned his circus days? He didn’t think he’d spoken of them to anyone since he and Sophia had left it behind back in September.

“Do you read a great deal?”

He nodded. “Lord Stildon has granted me use of his library now, but for a time the only books I had access to were the Bible and my father’s horse training manuals. I think I have the latter all memorized.”

“Does that mean you’ll be quoting horse maneuvers to me soon?”

“Ah, no.” Thank goodness the forest was dim, because there was a distinct possibility he was blushing.

“Hmmm.” She turned back to face the way they’d come and called, “Are you all right, Lawrence?”

“Yes, miss.” His reply was tense and stilted. “I’ll be with you momentarily.”

The squeal that broke through the end of that sentence allowed Jonas to pretend all his embarrassment was on behalf of the footman.

“We aren’t likely to encounter anyone here,” Miss Hancock replied. “Why don’t you wait just inside the trees?”

“Very well, miss.” Lawrence was clearly relieved.

Jonas was not.

Miss Hancock smiled at him, that edge he’d seen in her but hadn’t quite identified visible in her expression once more. Then she turned and took two steps deeper into the woods.

Jonas narrowed his eyes as he followed. Had she chosen Lawrence on purpose, knowing his fastidiousness would keep him at a distance?

Probably. For a moment he’d forgotten that she was adept at making her will appear the natural order of things. It was a good reminder to keep up his guard.

“Be careful. It isn’t far before you come across the springs.”

“Have you come here often?”

“Often enough. A point farther up is easily accessed by horse, and the horses enjoy it. Some bring the racehorses here to drink before a race for good luck.” He shrugged. “I just think the shade and water make it a nice place to rest and turn around when I’m exercising a horse away from the Heath.”

It was also a good place to think, but he didn’t want to share how this was something of a special place to him. Here he could forget where he was and where he’d been, feel at one with the nature around him.

She came to an abrupt stop and gripped his arm before looking at him with an expression of wonder that ripped through the wall of ill opinions he’d been carefully reconstructing. “Do you hear that?” she whispered, looking far from a spoiled, immature heiress.

Jonas could hear nothing over the blood suddenly rushing through his ears. His heart pounded as his mind struggled to remember why he shouldn’t consider her beautiful. “What?” he choked out.

“Water. I can hear the water.” She giggled and dove farther into the trees, ignoring the occasional twig that snagged at her hem or the squish of wet earth beneath her boot.

Jonas followed, staying close enough to catch her should a mishap occur, but his mind was several paces behind. Was this alluring, witty, independent woman the one his sister saw? If so, the friendship made far more sense. This was a woman he could get along with.

This was a woman he could care about.

Who was the real Miss Hancock?

He swallowed hard, part of him hoping this was an anomaly and the prickly, irritating woman would soon return. If he lost his ability to dislike her, would this new admiration, curiosity, and yes, attraction take over? That would doom him to a heartache he’d rather avoid.

She wrapped her arm around a tree trunk and leaned over the steep bank that cut down to the first branch of flowing water. Her bonnet strings snapped through the air as her head swung about, allowing her to take in the stream and surrounding plant life. “You were right. This is so much different than riding over a bridge in a carriage.”

Jonas blinked at her. “Is that the only way you’ve seen a stream before?”

She shrugged. “I’ve been on boats in lakes, and I’ve crossed the ocean.”

“That’s rather different too.” At least, he assumed it was. He’d been on a lake, but the closest he’d come to the ocean was the crossing from Ireland to England seven years ago.

“Yes. The ocean has waves, and the water is so vast but also so far beneath you that it seems unreal at times. But this . . .” She ran a hand over the bark of the tree and smoothed a leaf between her fingers. “This is real. I can see it, touch it.” She took a large inhale. “Smell it.”

How did this woman, who had done more than he could ever imagine—if even half of the rumors about her were true—make him feel as though he’d experienced more of life than she had?

She sighed. “You wrote that Elsabeth walked in the stream. I want to do that.”

Did she intend to roll headfirst down the incline to the water below? Jonas seized her shoulder to keep her in place.

The glare she sent him in response had him sighing, both in frustration and relief. There was the Miss Hancock he knew. “This isn’t the best place.” He pointed to his right. “Down there would be better.”

Her smile returned. “Well, then, lead on.”

He nodded and picked his way down the gentle slope. He’d brought her here because it was a good wading spot. Sometimes, when he rode out here, he would take off his boots and stroll in the running water while he prayed. The current crossing his feet felt like God Himself was walking with him.

Now he was going to share that with Miss Hancock. Would it forever ruin this place for him?

The ground became even with the water as two more springs joined the first to create a slow-moving pool. Large rocks and a fallen tree made the perfect place to sit and remove one’s boots or simply enjoy the peace of this pocket of paradise. There was a great deal to like about Newmarket, but he frequently felt exposed by the large expanses of flat fields and pastures.

Here was peaceful solitude.

He plopped down on the tree and waved his hand toward the pool. Because the flow of the water here was slow, it was also murky. Not that upstream wasn’t also full of plants and twigs, but they were far more difficult to see when the water bubbled and trickled quickly over rocks. Would the condition of the water change Miss Hancock’s plan?

It would seem not, as she walked right up to the edge, nearly touching the water with the toes of her boot.

“Elsabeth felt the cool water between her toes,” she said.

“Yes.” He knew where this was going, and he shouldn’t be bothered by it. No one in their right mind waded into a stream in their boots unless it was to get to the other side and keep hiking.

“I should remove my shoes, then. One can’t feel anything between their toes if they are encased in leather.”

She came to sit by Jonas on the log and then frowned at her feet. Did she not know how to remove her own boots?

“I didn’t bring a hook. Do you think I’ll be able to get them back on?”

Once again Jonas had misjudged her. Normally he was inclined to give people the benefit of the doubt, to think the best of them. That he’d been expecting the worst of Miss Hancock at every turn made him ashamed. Whatever was coloring his view of her was clearly his own problem and not hers. It was time to set his issues aside and give her the consideration every person deserved.

“We’ll find a way to get them back on. Do you need assistance removing them?”

“I don’t think so.” She shifted the hem of her dress just enough to reveal an old, worn walking boot. Brown laces held the leather molded over her ankle and up beneath her skirt. Untying and loosening the laces seemed to take Miss Hancock hours, but eventually she tugged the shoe loose and held it aloft with a triumphant smile. “Aha!”

Jonas couldn’t help but grin.

Moments later, she held the other shoe aloft as well, then set them both neatly on a nearby rock, her stockings draped over the edge and making him blush. Her bonnet joined the small pile.

Then she stood and gave her toes an experimental wiggle. They peeked out from beneath the hem of her dress, and Jonas couldn’t tear his eyes away. When was the last time he’d even seen a foot other than his own? Had he ever seen a woman’s? The delicate curve of the arch and the tiny toes were mesmerizing.

He didn’t fully realize he was staring until she stepped out of his field of vision to approach the edge of the water. Jonas blinked and shook his head before quickly pulling off his own boots. The sooner he got those feet covered by murky water, the better.