Crossed Hearts | h.s

Twenty Eight

As the crickets began to chirp and the sun began to set, causing the sky to blossom into warm splashes of orange and pink, Harry ran a damp cloth over his face and neck to clear the dirt from his skin. Ivey had finished preparing the meal and setting the table, and had put on her best gown, which was a scrap of cloth compared to the clothing at court. From across the room, she gave Harry a questioning glance, as if to ask if he had spoken their mother yet, and he only shook his head.

"When the time is right," he said as soon as the panic set into her features. Only moments later, there was a knock on the door. Ivey looked at Harry, fear evident in her eyes, so he walked across the room and gripped her shoulder lovingly. "Have faith."

The siblings went into the kitchen and waited for their mother to answer the door and beckon the guests inside. When the Robsarts turned the corner, Harry's breath caught in his throat; Jacob was not in attendance, but his younger sister, Millicent, stood beside her mother with a small smile on her deep red lips. He didn't expect the tomboyish girl that he had picked on in his younger years to become such a refined and elegant young woman. His mouth went dry at the sight of her.

"Mills," he said, taking a step closer. She dipped into a curtsy, sending her gaze downward. He took her hand and kissed it politely as he bowed. When he rose to his full height, he caught his mother proudly smiling out of the corner of his eye, and that's when he knew that she had not been arranging a marriage between Ivey and Jacob, but himself and Millicent. He dropped her hand abruptly and took a step backward, Millicent's smile fading at once.

Ivey noticed the grim expression on his face and cleared her throat to catch the attention of everyone. "Perhaps we should eat before the stew cools."

Nods of agreement filled the room, and everyone was soon sitting at the long table. It was no royal feast, but Ivey was a good cook and their cottage was cozy.

"So, you're employed at the palace?" Mr. Robsart asked Harry.

"Yes, sir, I'm a personal guard to her majesty, the queen," he said proudly.

"And how is she?" Mrs. Robsart asked.

"Quite a pleasure to be around and she is very serious about her duties. I believe she'll do well."

The duration of the meal was filled with small talk between Mr. and Mrs. Robsart and Mrs. Styles, Harry only chiming in when he had to, and Millicent and Ivey remaining silent. When the meal was finished, Harry excused himself to step outside for some fresh air. He walked over to where his horse was tied up and began to pet its snout.

"A beautiful creature you have there."

Harry tensed at the familiar voice and glanced backward to find Millicent standing a few feet behind him. He couldn't seem to find the words to build a response, so he simply nodded.

"What's its name?" she inquired, stepping forward slowly.

"Brutus," he said, looking up again to find her closer than before. He cleared his throat out of awkwardness. "Millicent—"

"You know I hate when I'm called that," she cut him off. In the moonlight, she could see the uneasiness in his face. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Of course, I'm always happy to see an old friend."

She frowned at his words. "I feared you would know nothing of this. But, I saw you come into town yesterday and I thought that maybe your mother had written to you that we were back, and that you had come home to see me at last."

"My mother has been plotting our betrothal, hasn't she?" he asked, gaining a nod from her. "Mills, I knew not that you had returned to Crofton, nor that my mother had been planning this. She's done everything without my knowledge. Believe me, I would've spared you this had I known."