Very Truly Yours, Simone

12. the reminder

Simone could not tell how she ever survived the picnic sitting so stiff with a smile pasted on her face the entire time. Roxie and Freda were free to join them and the pair chose not to, opting to take the only time of the day they were allowed on the birdwatching deck. And she wished she also had the freedom to choose not to be there because it was notoriously draining.

Not only did she have to pretend that she was fine and that the presence of Daniel Cavendish was naught but an honor, she also had to keep an eye on Price, Gale, and Lydia. The three had been throwing not-so-surreptitious glances at the duke, and worse, at her, then back, as if they were telling everyone they knew something. Which they didn't, of course, because they knew nothing.

Yes, they knew Simone and Daniel Cavendish had been exchanging letters for a duration of three years, but they truly didn't know the contents of those letters. They didn't know the depth of those conversations, the hearts she poured in hers, and the dreams in his.

However, they knew Simone had kept writing letters for another three years without a single reply from the man. And that was the excruciating and shameful part. There she was, sitting in a chair, fully aware of him from two seats away, remembering all the stupid things she wrote to him while he never wrote a word in return.

It was shameful at best.

And her last letter. Good Lord, what had she been thinking two years ago? To write to him as though they were lovers, practically telling him she was hurt for not getting any replies.

Shame was a terrible thing. And that's what made the picnic draining and excruciating.

"Do you think he'll marry her?" Price asked beside her. Following his gaze, she looked at Harry and Emmeline talking not far away, just the two of them. Harry had always been a charmer when it came to women. But it was rare to see him chummy with them with the exception of Arabella.

"No," she said.

"Are you feeling well?" Price asked, studying her face.

She slapped his hand away.

"You're a little testy, aren't you?" he asked.

"I'm just feeling hot. It's the sun," she gritted out.

"Surely, it's not the sun," he taunted.

"Don't push it, Price," she warned.

"Or what?"

"Or I'll walk out."

He laughed, and she stood, getting the attention of everyone around the table, including Daniel Cavendish. She made the mistake of looking at him, and he looked away, as uninterested as he was when a bug flew past him earlier. And she hated that. "I'm going for a walk," she said to her grandfather.

"I'll be your companion," Price volunteered, guiding her away before she could protest. "Your Grace, would you like to join us? I'll show you some interesting things in the woods."

"Oh, lovely! I'd like to stretch my legs too," Lydia piped in.

Simone walked on, very certain the man would say no. He could not even look at her with interest. Why would he be interested in a walk with them?

But to her surprise, she heard him say, "My pleasure."

Fortunately, she still had some control over her body. She did not turn even when the instinct was there. She just walked on, intent on overusing her muscle so she could later tell everyone that she wanted to retire early.

"Sisi, slow down!" Price called behind her.

"Keep up!" she snapped over her shoulder.

And he did. They did. Daniel Cavendish, still in a coat, silently walked beside Price. Lydia looped an arm around her and the two of them walked ahead of the two men.