Flirtation Walk Page 17

  “We’ll see enough of the river where we’re going.” He crooked an arm, though he made no move to close the distance between us.

  I did it for him. As I slipped my hand around his arm he flexed it, securing me to his side, drawing me close.

  We strolled past the hotel and down toward the river, just to the right of where Seth Westcott was probably still sitting on the bank, watching the clouds scud by.

  The path was as treacherous as I remembered, steep and slippery. There was quite a bit of handholding involved in order to ensure my safe passage along it. The trees that formed a tunnel for the path had now shed their leaves and were standing, branches bared, much like Seth Westcott. But why should I care about him? He was nothing but a buffoon. A clown.

  To take my mind off Seth, I determined to engage Mr. Conklin in conversation. “Is this what they call Flirtation Walk?”

  He smiled and covered my hand with his own. “What if it is? Is it such a terrible thing to want to flirt with you?”

  I couldn’t quite summon a blush, but I diverted my gaze. “I’m very flattered.”

  “I’m very flattered. It’s not every day that I get to step out with a pretty girl like you.” His hand tightened around mine.

  It wouldn’t do to have him think me quickly won. “Too easily won, too easily parted.” I swayed away from him as a rock jutted up between us on the path. “You probably say that to all the girls.”

  “I won’t say I haven’t walked here before, but I’ve seen lots of girls, and I don’t mind telling you that it’s true. You’re very pretty.” He stopped with an abruptness that spun me back toward him. Then he dropped his hands to my elbows, pulling me close. “Do you know what they say about that rock up ahead?”

  I glanced over my shoulder down the trail to see that rocky outcrop with the ledge that jutted out over the path.

  “I have no idea.”

  “If a cadet attempts to pass beneath it without first being kissed, legend says that it will crumble and fall on him.”

  Seth had never mentioned that. We’d walked right beneath and he hadn’t said a thing.

  “I swear to you, it’s true.”

  “That would be a very great shame.”

  He made a show of looking at the rock and then looking back at me. “The greater shame would be to cut our walk short. The best views of the river await us on the other side.”

  I blinked wide, trying for levity, though my heart wasn’t truly in it. But that had never bothered me before. Why did it feel so much like betrayal now? “You’re willing to risk life and limb for my benefit? Are all cadets as brave as you?”

  A corner of his mouth curved up into a smile. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to risk my life.”

  “Are you asking me to save you?” My father always said “You have to make a man say what it is that he wants. Until then he’s not committed—he’s just hoping.”

  His smile took its time as it spread across his lips. “I think you’ll find it’s worth the effort.”

  Mr. Conklin certainly knew what he wanted, and he didn’t waste any time going after it. Madame Mercier would have said he was treating me with too much liberty. After a kiss like that, my father would have told me to encourage him even more. But I meant to have him respectably, with an engagement ring to seal the agreement, so dealing with Campbell Conklin required a defter hand than I was used to employing.

  I took his hand in mine and drew away from him slowly, tugging him along the path with me. And then I gave a cry. Collapsing into him, I made a show of wincing.

  “What is it?”

  “I think . . . I might have turned my ankle. Perhaps—is there somewhere we could sit? For just a moment?” I’m sure it was already known that we had wandered down to Flirtation Walk, but if we had to cut short our walk, it could do nothing but preserve his interest.

  He clasped me rather more tightly than was necessary as he helped me along, but I can’t say the sensation was unpleasant. He was strong. And efficient. Should I place myself in his hands, I daresay my life would be entirely taken care of. It was not an unpleasant thought.

  “Would you like to go back?”

  I glanced up at him and then let my gaze fall away. “No.”

  His chest puffed as if it had suddenly expanded two sizes.

  I frowned. Just the tiniest bit. “But I don’t think my ankle will allow me to proceed.”

  He crooked his arm for me. “I would offer to carry you, but your shoes might mark my trousers.” He wasn’t making an apology.

  I didn’t blame him. “I understand.” I did. Truly. Maintaining appearances was the most important of things.

  He looped an arm about my waist, and I leaned against him as we picked our way back down the path.

  “I’ll be graduating in June. After that, I hope I’ll be assigned to the Corps of Engineers.”

  “And what do engineers do?”

  “Everything worth doing. With my family’s connections, I’m hoping they’ll see me as a likely candidate for further study in Europe. Or as an attaché, perhaps.”

  I murmured, in French, that I hoped all would go well for him.

  He blinked.

  Perhaps I’d miscalculated. “Don’t you speak the language? I thought you all studied French.”

  “We do. So we can learn about Napoleon’s strategies. We mostly read it; we don’t speak it.” He was looking at me as if I’d done something untoward. “The only one who actually speaks it is Dandy Delagarde, but he’s from New Orleans.”

  “That’s practically the only phrase I know.” It wasn’t true, of course, but it wouldn’t do to give him a reason to think less of me.

  Phoebe was keen to know about my afternoon, pestering me from her perch on the sofa in the sitting room before I even had the chance to remove my bonnet. From the sound of the pots banging about, I guessed my aunt to be in the kitchen with Susan. Milly must have been upstairs with Ella, otherwise they both would have been underfoot. I placed my bonnet on the hallstand and settled myself beside Phoebe.

  “Tell me everything. I’ve only ever heard Mr. Conklin when he comes here to supper, so I’m sure I must have a false impression of him. Tell me what he’s like.”

  What was he like? “He’s . . . what you’d imagine the finest cadet to be. A bit taller than most.” Though not so tall as Seth Westcott. Not that it mattered in the least. “Quite trim. He holds himself with some gravity. He’s very . . . dignified. Quite respectable.”

  “Is he affable? When he’s not trying to impress Papa?”

  “He is.”

  “Is he fair?”

  “He’s rather dark, in fact.” Seth was the fair one.

  “Brown-eyed?”

  Was he? “I can’t say that I recall.”

  “I should think that’s the first thing I would notice about a person.”

  I should think so too. Deacon’s eyes were brown. My aunt’s eyes were hazel. Seth Westcott’s were blue. “I’ll tell you what color they are next time I see him. I suppose that will be for dinner tomorrow.”

  Her brow furrowed as she thought about my words. “Is he kind? I haven’t been able to tell. He never talks much to me.”

  Kind? I wouldn’t have used the word kind to describe him. “He’s quite the gentleman. He looks like a cadet should. All straight lines and stiff motions.”

  She nodded, a smile softening her lips. “I remember. I remember how all those cadets look in their uniforms.”

  “He’s quite smart. At the top of his class. Did I tell you that already?”

  “He’s told me. Every time he comes over. It’s practically the only thing he ever says to me.”

  “I haven’t spent that much time with him, you know—just a dance or two—and then this afternoon . . . ”

  “But what about Seth Westcott?”

  “You know your father doesn’t approve of him. If he keeps going as he is, your father says he might break my own father’s record in amassing demerits. So you se
e why he can’t be considered a suitable prospect.”

  “Why is that again?”

  “Because he’s just like my father! And I will not be like my mother. I’m not going to run away with some disreputable man.”

  She held her hand out toward me, and I put mine into it. She squeezed my hand. “I think you just have to make sure you’re looking for the right things.”

  “Exactly. Which is why respectability has to triumph over”—over whatever else Seth had that Campbell didn’t—“anything else.” The important thing is that I was starting over, and this time I was going to do everything right. I was going to link my destiny to the right man . . . even if he didn’t happen to make my heart flutter the way Seth did.

  We passed the remainder of the afternoon in what my father might have called pleasant tedium. For supper we had what was left from dinner. When Phoebe decided to go to bed rather earlier than usual, I followed right behind her. I would have beat her into bed too, but for all the pins in my hair.

  I had just found a comfortable position on my pillow and was drifting toward sleep when Phoebe rolled over and plucked at my sleeve.

  “What is it like to kiss a man?”

  I was glad she couldn’t see the blush that stained my cheeks.

  “You have . . . haven’t you?”

  I fisted the corner of my pillow in my hand. “I don’t know why you’d think that.”

  “It’s something about the way you speak of men.” She rolled onto her back. “I don’t think Mama kissed anyone . . . not before Papa. But you have, haven’t you?”

  How had she guessed? I said nothing. Perhaps if I didn’t move, she’d think I’d fallen asleep.

  “Haven’t you? I’m not wrong, am I?”

  I sighed and rolled to face her.

  “Please. You must tell me. I’m not likely ever to be kissed, and who knows how long you’ll be here—”

  “I’m not planning to go any—”

  “I’ve heard Mama and Papa talking. They plan that you’ll marry. So if you don’t tell me, nobody will.”

  Why did she have to be so kind? And innocent?

  “Lucinda?”

  I knew that if I didn’t tell her, she’d just keep pestering me until I did. “Kissing is . . .” I faltered, thankful that those blue eyes of hers weren’t really peering down into my soul. “Kissing is like anything else. The quality of the experience depends upon whom you do it with.”

  She was silent for quite some time before she moved. Then she patted the air next to my arm, searching for me.

  I took her hand in mine.

  She squeezed it. “I’m so sorry.”

  Speaking of kissing made me feel more like a fallen woman than I had when I’d pretended to be one. “Sorry for what?”

  “I’m sorry you haven’t ever kissed anyone worthwhile.”

  So was I. I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “There. I just did.” She smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile in return. “Now, then. You mustn’t tell anyone.”

  “I’m flattered that you think I would. But really, cousin, who do I ever talk to but you?”

  Her words pinched my heart, and I blinked hard to keep tears from my eyes, tried even harder to keep them from my voice. “Just goes to show how lucky I am, counting you among—” I meant to say friends, but I didn’t really have any except for her. I never had.

  “We’re friends, aren’t we?” She squeezed my hand.

  “Of course we are.”

  “I’m so glad.” She rolled back to face the wall then, and before long she was breathing the long, deep breaths of peaceful sleep.

  Somehow Phoebe managed to pull the oddest confessions from me. I couldn’t account for it. She didn’t ever plead with me for anything; she didn’t beg me to do her bidding. I could find no guile in her words, nor in her motives. But somehow she made me tell her things I’d never told anyone. Not even my father.

  She saw more . . . I smiled at the thought. She sensed more than anyone I’d ever met. Why then, hadn’t she discerned any hint of my past? Why had she not perceived the desperation with which I’d come to Buttermilk Falls?

  I supposed it didn’t matter. My hope was that she would never know. That she might always think of me as her dear cousin, her friend. But that was foolish. Who knew what demands tomorrow might make of me and when it would be more advantageous for me to go than to stay? It was dangerous to become more attached to her than I should.

  “Ties were meant to be broken.” That’s what my father always said.

  For the first time that I could remember, recalling his words didn’t fill my heart with warmth. They just made me . . . sad.

  32

  Seth

  My next week, the first in November, was hard fought, without even one victory at its end. If an instructor were to have looked solely at the results of my recitations, they might have thought me unsuited to life in general. Failing all my classes surely made me feel that way. But at least I hadn’t partaken in much misconduct. On Saturday, I had the afternoon free once again. The fellows convinced me to go with them to Fort Putnam.

  As we indulged in a forbidden game of cards, once again Lucinda managed to find me.

  “Oh! I’m sorry. I was walking up here with Mr. Conklin. He had to go back for just a minute . . . There was a cadet . . .”

  I couldn’t help snorting as I rearranged my cards. “And the poor fellow was probably doing something wrong that Mr. Conklin felt obliged to report.”

  Lucinda didn’t reply, but she didn’t have to. The only thing Campbell Conklin liked more than courting a pretty girl was reporting on a fellow cadet. He’d gotten worse since he’d become first captain.

  Deacon took the cigar from his mouth and waved it as if to excuse us all. “You’ll have to forgive us, Miss Hammond. I know cards aren’t a gentleman’s pastime, but we’ve been gentlemen all week and we’d hoped for a bit of a respite.”

  Otter had folded his hand and tossed his cards into the middle of our circle. Dandy was trying to hide a flask in the sleeve of the coat he’d discarded.

  She smiled in a way that made my heart turn over. Curse that Mr. Pennyworth. If it weren’t for him I might have been able to declare my intentions. Feigning disinterest, I tried to ignore the sensation.

  Sighing, she sent the cards what I might have thought was a look of longing. “I don’t suppose any of you know of the game vingt-et-un?”

  Otter cocked his head. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it.”

  “My late father taught it to me.”

  Deacon gestured to a tumbled stone that was a good height for sitting upon. “Then why don’t you show us how to play?”

  She was wearing a dress that looked like milk froth topped with a dollop of cream, so I stripped off my coat and placed it atop the stone so she wouldn’t ruin her skirts. Just because I was forbidden to continue courting her didn’t mean I couldn’t still be a gentleman.

  Deke was already dealing cards. “How many?”

  “Just one each. And then hand me the rest and I’ll play dealer. The goal is to total your cards as close to twenty-one as you can without going over. Aces count as one.”

  “Sounds simple enough.”

  “What were you gentlemen playing for?”

  Deacon chomped down on his cigar. If the playing of cards was forbidden, then gambling at cards was strictly outlawed. “What were we . . . ?”

  Otter swallowed. “We . . . uh . . .”

  Dandy’s dark eyes were sparking with amusement.

  “We’re playing for the simple pleasure of it.” I said it in a way that dared any of them to say anything different.

  Otter sighed and then fessed up. “I oughter say that we were playing for sips from Dandy’s last bottle of whiskey . . .”

  She nodded. “You might as well all keep playing for sips, then.”

  Otter’s grin was overcome by a frown. “But what about you?”

  She smiled. “I’ll just play for the pleasure
of your company.”

  We played several hands, one of which she won. It was Dandy’s turn to deal when Campbell Conklin came puffing over the top of the crumbling wall. “I’m sorry, Miss Hammond. I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long. Are you—?”

  In the heat of the game, I guess we’d forgotten all about him.

  Lucinda’s eyes went wide as she dropped her cards. Dandy’s hand snaked out to cover the neck of the bottle that was stashed behind him. Deacon hadn’t been quick enough to toss his cigar or his cards. But he didn’t have anything to worry about because Conklin had fixed his ire on me. “Fancy seeing you here like this, Mr. Westcott. Out of uniform. Playing cards. Smoking.”

  “I wasn’t smoking.” I hated cigars.

  “What do you think the commandant will say when I tell him the same cadet who showed up to parade in his drawers has also been caught out of uniform, playing cards? He might assume you were trying to get yourself dismissed. And you know what? I think he might just oblige you.”

  He might. If there had been any mark on Conklin’s record, any suggestion of him ever having bent the rules, then this would have been the time to mention them. But Campbell Conklin was one of the few who took great pleasure in doing everything exactly right . . . and even more pleasure in rubbing everyone else’s face in it. There was nothing I could say, no room to even maneuver.

  I stood, and in doing so I stepped a bit closer to him than was comfortable. I had a couple inches on him, and unless he took a step or two back, I knew he’d have to look up at me.

  He fell back.

  I held my hands up, palms out. “You caught me.”

  Beside me, Lucinda also came to her feet, stepping in front of me. She put a hand to Conklin’s chest and turned, cozying up to him.

  His hand dropped to her waist in a proprietary gesture. I knew I’d never have the right to dance with her, to touch her again, and I hated him for it.

  She glanced up at him from beneath her bonnet. “I was the one who asked them to play.”

  “You did?”

  “My father used to play a game called vingt-et-un with me. You know he died this past summer, and I just . . .” She sighed a long, heartfelt sigh.