“Shall we?” Peter extended his arm to me, smiling mischievously.
Sitting next to each other in close proximity was one thing, but to take his arm felt as though it crossed some invisible line I’d drawn between us. Peter was not a friend, and would likely never become a friend, especially after Clara won Sir Ronald’s heart and broke Georgiana’s. But Clara’s timid smile reminded me of my purpose. Like it or not, I was pinned to Peter for the afternoon.
“Thank you,” I said, holding onto his arm as loosely as I could. It felt odd to be so near him as he led me behind the others. A warmth radiated from him that compelled me to enjoy it to the smallest degree. I shook the thought away. This was the same man who scurried from underneath a table and refused to relinquish a pair of gloves he did not even truly need.
I stole a sideways glance at Peter, whose peaceful gaze seemed quite content with his circumstances. Not a single worry wrinkled his brow. Clearly, Peter and I led vastly different lives. He had the world in his hands for the shaping, and in a few weeks or even days, given Lord Gray’s failing health, I would have not a penny to my name. How could I find common ground with Peter? I had no special accomplishments to speak of, nor beauty to flaunt. But I needed to appear interesting enough to keep his attention away from Sir Ronald. At the pace we were moving, we’d soon catch up with Clara and Sir Ronald, and my arm linked through Peter’s would be entirely in vain. I had to distract him and slow him down with some sort of intrigue. And quickly.
“Heavens.” Lifting a hand to my forehead, I tightened my hold on his arm, drawing a shallow breath to accentuate the facade. “What a climb.”
“Indeed.” Peter raised a brow, biting his lip. We stopped, and I took several deep breaths, each one longer than the one before. Up ahead, the group faded as they climbed over the hilltop. Even if I could give Clara only a few minutes with Sir Ronald, any embarrassment I afforded myself would be worth it.
Peter hesitated, and then reached around for my other arm. “Are you all right?”
“No. I am quite out of breath. I cannot take another step.” I moved in front of him, blocking his way upward. A few more labored breaths and a slower than usual walk up the hill would satisfy my goal.
Peter stared at me oddly, as though piecing together a puzzle. “You do look ill, Miss Moore.” His voice was smooth, cool, and a tease twitched the corners of his lips. “Allow me to carry you the rest of the way. I assure you I am more than capable.”
My eyes widened. Surely he was not serious. But then he started to bend down, his free hand brushing my skirts, and I jolted forward, away from him. “No, thank you.”
“Oh.” He feigned innocence, straightening himself. “Well, it appears as though you are moving just fine now. Shall we continue?”
“I am not moving fine. I am decidedly out of breath.” I glared angrily at him.
“Allow me to aid you. As an honorable gentleman, I cannot allow you to suffer.” He moved closer, arms outstretched, the most infuriating grin upon his face.
“I thought you said you were not honorable in the least?” My voice was rushed, anxious, as I stepped backward, holding up my skirts. I had the most ridiculous notion that Peter would lift me in the air despite my weak attempts to dissuade him, and I would be mortified like I’d never been before.
“Nothing gets past you, does it, Miss Moore?” He took a larger, closer step, and I could no longer remain impassive. “In that case, since I should very much like to assist you up this hill, and if I am not honorable, then I shall not think to ask for your approval.”
His hand grazed my wrist, and I bolted upward at a most unladylike pace. Peter was on my heels, and I shrieked as he reached for me. Faster and faster, higher and higher, I ran, eyes focused on the grass beneath my feet. Would he truly humiliate me? My side ached with sharp, shooting pains, and I sucked in a breath.
The incline had steepened before rounding out, and when I turned, Peter was only steps behind me, having just reached the top as well. He placed his hands on his hips as his chest heaved with exertion.
“Well done. That was much faster than I thought. And much easier than carrying you myself.” He glanced heavenward. “This, by the way, is what breathlessness feels like. You should study the feeling before you take up acting again. A valiant effort, but nothing about your figure would convince me that you could not climb such a minor hill as this one after resting at a picnic.”
My breathing was slowing, but my heart raged with anger. “I was not acting.” I winced at the lie.
“Of course you were. But why were you so intent on keeping me from the party? That much is unclear. You are a clever woman, Amelia. But even I can see that you are still angry with me over those gloves.”
I gritted my teeth. Having Peter openly reveal my motive was nearly as bad as being outwitted. He was right. Despite my scheming, I’d climbed the hill faster than I would’ve had we continued walking at our previous pace. Peter had won again. And heavens, it irked me.
I did not spare him a second glance as I left him to his certainty and confidence. I would not give him the satisfaction of having affected me. My anger with him went beyond those ridiculous gloves. In truth, I cared less for what he had taken, and more for what he could take from us if given the chance.
Fortunately, the company was in raptures over the view, so no one noticed my plight. I found Clara walking along the front of the hill with Sir Ronald and Georgiana, but she tore away from them when she saw me.
Clara led me to the back edge of the hill, far away from the others. We appreciated the low-lying farmlands, rich and lush with life, the shades of green changing where the sun hit, and the tiniest hints of color from budding flowers and weeds.
“Thank you,” she said, lacing her arm through mine. “That picnic was perfect. And this view. Is it not the loveliest thing you’ve ever seen?”
“It is,” I replied, heart calming with my sister’s enthusiasm.
“I could see it every day for all of my life and never tire of it.” Clara’s eyes grew hopeful, full of longing, but she quickly caught herself and blinked the dream away.
“Were you able to offer such compliments to Sir Ronald?” I asked slyly.
Clara smiled. “We spoke openly about his estate, yes, and of my admiration for it. I think he was pleased.”
“Good. Then my time with Mr. Wood was not spent in vain.”
“The way Georgiana describes him, he is quite generous and kind.” Clara’s voice rose in pitch.
“Conceited and pompous are more accurate descriptions,” I muttered.
“Amelia, hush. He will hear us.” Clara laughed behind a gloved hand. “To think we’ve hardly been here a full day—”