Very Truly Yours, Simone

11. the picnic

"But isn't she too young for Harry?" Simone asked.

"Grandmama was fifteen years younger than the old man," said Gale with a shrug. "And she still died first."

"And what's your point?"

"That age hardly matters," Price replied.

The four of them were walking through the garden, the one at the back of the house, while not far away, in the vast lawn near the edge of the woods, the servants were battling the winds with the tablecloth.

Mrs. Keating, the housekeeper with black hair and slender figure, shouted for Price. "The chairs, Price!"

One thing people also found odd within the Abberton House was that the masters could be ordered around by the servants as much as they could do the same to them. They grew up doing whatever they fancied. If they wanted to cook, they were not just allowed to—they were taught to. Clean the windows? Of course they could climb the ladder to clean the windows. The girls ruined gardens, collected worms, and later learned how to grow the same foods they cooked in the kitchen. On more summers than they could count, Price and Gale had joined the workers in the field to plant new crops to escape the schoolroom.

No one stopped them from doing anything, and if any of their tutors ever showed them the distinct line between laborers and masters, they were dismissed. There was respect, but it was never one-sided.

Astonishing it may be, odd as it may be, it also had its disadvantages. For one, most of the children had an unruly side to them. They could not easily distinguish class whenever they were outside. Rarely would one catch them address anyone correctly, especially those with vague titles.

It was Price who eventually found the perfect solution. "Just call everyone lord or lady. Those without title would either correct us or be flattered and not bother. But we should always recognize a bloody duke and duchess. They're addressed differently. But they're quite few, so we're quite safe."

As Price delivered two chairs to Mrs. Keating, they followed in an easy pace. Lydia looped her arm around Sisi while Gale asked, "Have you asked Web?"

"Never had the chance. He's always busy."

"Oh, the curiosity is killing me," Lydia said. "I think Web is trying to evade our questions."

"I guess so, too," Gale concurred. "I tried asking myself, but he brushed it off."

"We can invite them to Charity's wedding," suggested Lydia. Bridget had married three years ago. This year, Charity finally found a match, and she had asked Simone to make her dress.

"I doubt a duke will attend a small-town wedding, Lydia."

Gale picked up a fallen twig and thoughtfully asked, "Do you think Harry will accept the offer?"

"It's quite advantageous. Her brother is a duke. That in itself is good enough connection."

"I don't think Harry will take it," Lydia said.

"He's in love with Ara," Gale pointed out.

"No, he's not," Lydia said.

"He's my brother. I know."

"He told you?"

"Not in words, but—"

"Then it's all in your head," said Simone before she scoffed. "What do you know about love?"

"I happen to know a lot about love. It just would not come to me."

"Like it did with Pauline and the many other ladies before and after her?" Lydia asked.