She readjusted her bonnet, pulling tight at the bow. “I admit, I sneaked a cheroot from Beau’s study a time or two, mostly because I cannot countenance the fact that women aren’t allowed to do certain things based solely on their gender.”
David pulled open his coat and retrieved a cigar from a pocket. “Would you like to share one now? I won’t judge you for it.”
She glanced around, feeling positively scandalized and a bit excited. “Should we dare?”
David shrugged. “I don’t see why not. We seem to be quite alone here.” He pulled a flint from his coat pocket and struck it against a rock near his feet to light the cigar.
“Ladies first,” he said, offering Annabelle the cigar.
“No. No, you go ahead.” She waved it away.
He shrugged again and took a long, deep pull from the cigar, closing his eyes and blowing out the smoke in the opposite direction from Annabelle. Then he offered it to her.
She took it apprehensively, feeling nowhere near as confident as she had that night in the Harrisons’ garden. It was quite different when one didn’t feel as if one had the moral authority. Now she was simply a young woman standing near a lake in the light of day with a handsome young man, doing something illicit. A thrill shot through her. She loved that David wasn’t appalled by the fact that she would smoke a cigar if given the chance. Holding the thick middle of the thing, she put it between her lips and sucked in. The heady smoke stung her mouth, and she blew it out with a long sigh.
“I’m trying to quit, for Marianne’s sake,” David said, as Annabelle handed the cigar back to him. “She thinks it’s a nasty habit. She’s probably right.” He took another long pull and returned the cigar to her.
“Younger sisters can be pests, can’t they?” she replied with a laugh, taking another pull herself.
David’s voice was soft. “I’d do anything for Marianne.”
Annabelle’s mind flashed back to a vision of young Beau lying unconscious on the floor of Mama’s bedchamber, bloody and bruised. “I know what you mean. Beau would do anything for me, too,” she breathed, handing David the cigar again.
“I know I don’t need these things,” he said, lifting the cigar. “But…it’s…comfortable. Familiar, I suppose. Makes me feel as if I’m back in the army. Where I belong.”
Annabelle furrowed her brow. “Why do you say that? You belong here now, of course.”
“Do I?” He looked at the ground, kicking at the grass with one boot. “I don’t even know what ‘here’ is. It feels as if I’m playing dress-up, inhabiting someone else’s life. I know how to be an army captain. I know how to be a woodworker’s son. I have little idea how to be an earl.”
Annabelle frowned. Sadness tugged at her heart. She’d never stopped to think about how different everything must be for David in London. He’d been an army captain, used to risking his life and sleeping in tents with only one book to read. Meanwhile, she and her set were sleeping in perfect peace, in luxurious beds with fine linens, with five-course meals and plenty of cream for coffee. David had been called away from everything he knew, everything he was familiar with, to come to London and be the Earl of Elmwood.
“I suppose it won’t help to tell you it’s much safer here,” she offered with a small smile.
A humorless smile touched his lips. “It’s safe here because of the men fighting out there.” He looked off into the distance, taking another long pull from the cigar.
“Of course,” she whispered. “Of course.”
“Listen to me today,” he said, turning toward her and shaking his head. “This is no doubt an inappropriate conversation for a supposed courting.”
Annabelle nodded. “Yes, well. I would say it’s probably not fodder for a real courtship, David. But I do understand. I’ve never had to leave everything I know and am familiar with, but I have spent my life feeling as if I don’t completely belong here either.”
Nodding, David offered her the cigar again. When she shook her head, he tossed it to the ground, rubbing it out with his boot. “Well, before we get back to the lesson, I’m hoping you’ll allow me to show you how to do something for once, my lady.”
She watched as he went off into a nearby copse of trees for a few minutes and came back with a thick stick.
“We have a retriever at our country house who can do that, too,” she announced with a laugh.
He gave her an ironic stare. “I’m not done yet. In fact, I haven’t even begun.”
Annabelle watched him with a mixture of confusion and curiosity. What in the world did he intend to do with a stick, of all things?
He fished in his inside coat pocket and pulled out a rather formidable-looking knife.
Annabelle’s eyes widened. “What is that for?”
David grinned at her. “It’s for whittling.”
“Whittling?” Her eyes went wide.
“Yes, and woodworking. My father taught me. I can make all sorts of furniture and things. In fact, he and I once refitted the entire interior of a ship.”
“Really?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
He gave her a skeptical look. “You’re thinking it’s not a terribly useful skill for an earl, aren’t you?”
“No, not at all,” she replied. “I was thinking you never fail to surprise me.”
He grinned at that, but kept his concentration on the stick and knife in his hand, where he’d begun carving.
“What other unexpected things do you know how to do, my lord?” she asked as she carefully picked up her skirts to climb over a fallen tree.
He glanced up from his work. “Shall we?” he asked, motioning toward the fallen log.
Her brow furrowed. “Shall we what?”
“Shall we sit? Here?”
“On this log?” she asked, pursing her lips.
He chuckled. “Never mind. I suppose a lady as fine as yourself would never do something as primitive as sit upon a fallen log.”
“Now, wait a moment,” Annabelle replied, suddenly quite offended that he’d think so little of her. “I was merely surprised because I didn’t realize we were going to sit. I’m perfectly capable of sitting upon a log.” As if to prove the point, she promptly lowered herself onto the log, allowing her skirts to fan out around her.
While he watched with a grin on his face, she pushed her legs out in front of herself and crossed her booted ankles.
“I thought a lady wasn’t supposed to cross her legs,” David pointed out.
Annabelle winked at him. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
He threw back his head and laughed at that before taking a seat beside her. His knees stuck out due to his height, but he continued diligently working on the stick with the knife.
“You never answered. What other things can you do?” Annabelle prodded.
He rubbed his chin with the back of his wrist and appeared to contemplate the question for a moment. “Let’s see. I can cut down a tree with an ax to make lumber. I can raise chickens and pigs. I can make a fire with only a stick and a rock, though I do prefer a flint. I can shoot the button off a French officer’s coat at fifty paces, and I can dance a waltz. But you already knew that last one.” He winked at her this time.