Page 11 of Holly & Folly

Mr. Fowell offered his arm to Miss Prescott, who took it with an admirable pretense of pleasure, though her eyes met Archie’s.

This expedition ought to be interesting, at least.

Four

NELL

It could have been worse.

Perhaps.

Mr. Fowell had offered her his arm, but it was he who gripped her as they traipsed through the little remnants of crunching snow behind Lord Dalmeer and Miss Caldwell. He seemed to fear she might collapse without his firm hand or float away on the chill breeze.

He was kind enough, and certainly handsome enough, but there was something about him she could not like. Something in his eye.

It was, of course, entirely possible that Nell simply struggled to like any man after what she had been through.

Her gaze shifted to Lord Dalmeer ten feet ahead. He was assisting Miss Caldwell over a large patch of snow. Despite the great care he seemed to be taking, she slipped, tumbling, quite fortuitously, into his chest.

When he had stabilized her, she looked up at him through her lashes to thank him.

Nell suppressed an eye-roll. Perhaps Miss Caldwell could benefit from Mr. Fowell’s unyielding clutch, then Nell and Lord Dalmeer could get on with the activity.

Had she been imagining it, or had the earl been attempting to save her from Mr. Fowell back in the drawing room?

She had been sorely tempted to take his arm when he had offered it, but the way Lady Dalmeer had regarded her had made it abundantly clear she wished her son to be paired with Miss Caldwell.

They reached a thicket of bushes, and the young stablehand who had been instructed to hold their scavenged items brought them tools to clip greenery. Once he had done so, he stood a ways off. No doubt he had been given stern instructions regarding what was expected of him—to lend propriety without encroaching on the opportunity for flirtation.

Mr. Fowell released Nell’s arm, and the four of them explored the area to identify the most promising possibilities. Nell inspected the nearest bush, trying to envision the Antique Passage and what would show it to best advantage.

She clipped a few branches and gave them to the stablehand.

“Come, Miss Prescott.” Mr. Fowell beckoned her to a little alcove within the bushes two dozen feet away from their companions and out of view of the stable boy.

Nell had no desire to distance herself from them, and even less to enter an alcove where no one could see her, but neither did she know how to refuse. This was what they were meant to do, after all.

She followed him but stopped short of entering the alcove where he stood waiting.

“Tell me what you think of this branch here,” he urged. He held one that looked identical to a hundred others that would not require her to lose sight of Lord Dalmeer and Miss Caldwell.

“Very pretty indeed,” she said, craning her neck to appear interested from a safe distance. “We must certainly add it to our collection.”

Mr. Fowell smiled at her, but it was a quizzical smile, as though he could not understand why she would not draw nearer.

She looked at Lord Dalmeer and Miss Caldwell.

The earl was attempting to clip a branch, but Miss Caldwell had insisted that they do so together, holding either side of the tool’s handle. This approach, however conducive to opportunities for intimacy with the earl, was not an effective manner of clipping greenery.

The earl’s exasperated eye caught Nell’s, and she looked away hurriedly, trying to suppress a smile.

“What is it?” Mr. Fowell asked curiously. “What makes you smile so?”

“Nothing,” Nell said. “I merely…had a memory.”

“Oh?” He revealed his handsome smile. “Do tell. I am quite curious to know more about you, Miss Prescott.”

Warmth rose to her cheeks, and she grasped for any memory she might offer that would explain her smile.