me?” she teased.
Andrew blushed scarlet, and Jenny pretended to be enrapt in viewing the field of daisies that lay ahead of them. She urged Shadow to a trot and Neptune pursued her. They crossed fields and meandered through forests until the sun had reached its peak. They rode toward the shade of a copse of trees to enjoy the meal Dora had prepared. Usually anxious to savor Dora’s cooking, Andrew noted a distinct lack of appetite, replaced instead with a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Dismounting, he then stepped to Shadow to assist Jenny. As she bent to his reaching arms, he again caught the scent of lilac and breathed it in as he helped her from the horse. With his arms still at her waist, he set her on the ground and looked into her eyes. All sensations halted as they looked at each other. Jenny’s eyes held none of the teasing humor he usually detected, but rather a simmering longing that echoed in his own. Suddenly Deidre’s words drifted through his mind,
you lack the knowledge that a man must possess.
And he released her.
Birdsong resumed as they backed away from each other in the embarrassment that comes when hidden feelings have been exposed. Andrew coughed and Jenny brushed her skirts and turned away.
“I’ll get the saddlebags if you would like to spread out the blanket,” he said.
Shaking out the blanket, Jenny allowed it to drift, open, to the ground. Andrew brought the saddlebags and laid out sausages, cheeses, wine and fruit. As usual, Dora had outdone herself and there was an abundance of food. They piled food on plates, poured the wine and settled in for a feast. Propped up on one elbow, Andrew lay across one edge of the blanket and began to eat. Something about the sight and smell of Dora’s cooking dispelled any lack of appetite he had experienced earlier. Jenny sat across from him with her feet tucked beneath her.
“Tell me about Boston,” Andrew said.
“Boston is an exciting city, Andrew. Shops of every description line busy streets, and at one time they were filled with goods from England and Europe. The
Boston Gazette
informs everyone about events in these troubled times, and we have seen our share of fighting. Ever since the massacre, we have had British soldiers walking our streets, and tensions are higher than ever. But I love Boston, and I shall return when Father believes it is safe,” she said.
“I imagine it is difficult to be away from your family and friends,” Andrew said.
“Yes,” Jenny replied spreading honey across a biscuit. Andrew watched her intently, captivated by how small and slender her hands were and how gracefully she performed even such an ordinary task as that. He looked up and met her eyes.
“Do you have any
special
friends?” he asked feigning innocence.
Jenny cocked her head and looked at him for a moment as if trying to come to a decision. Finally, she gave him her half-smile and said, “Oh yes.”
Andrew’s face fell. “I see.”
“Let me see, there is my dearest friend Amy, my cousin Charlotte, whom I count as a bosom friend, and then my lifelong neighbor, Mary.” She hid a smile.
Andrew looked at her closely and sensed her mirth.
“I am not very practiced at subtlety, Jenny,” he confessed. She smiled and patted his hand.
“If you mean do I have a beau, no, Andrew, no one has captured my heart … ” she paused.
Andrew blushed and hated himself for it. Looking up, he saw tender humor in her eyes, not mockery.
“I am so glad you have come to Brentwood Manor, Jenny,” he said.
“I am very glad, too, Andrew,” she whispered.
He reached across and took her hand, glancing at her for acquiescence. She smiled and squeezed his hand.
“You are a mystery to me, Jenny. You bring about sensations I have never experienced before. When you enter a room, it is as if the sun entered with you. When you laugh, it is as though angels sing. I am befuddled by the feelings that somersault through me when we touch like this.” He
Andrew blushed scarlet, and Jenny pretended to be enrapt in viewing the field of daisies that lay ahead of them. She urged Shadow to a trot and Neptune pursued her. They crossed fields and meandered through forests until the sun had reached its peak. They rode toward the shade of a copse of trees to enjoy the meal Dora had prepared. Usually anxious to savor Dora’s cooking, Andrew noted a distinct lack of appetite, replaced instead with a swarm of butterflies in his stomach. Dismounting, he then stepped to Shadow to assist Jenny. As she bent to his reaching arms, he again caught the scent of lilac and breathed it in as he helped her from the horse. With his arms still at her waist, he set her on the ground and looked into her eyes. All sensations halted as they looked at each other. Jenny’s eyes held none of the teasing humor he usually detected, but rather a simmering longing that echoed in his own. Suddenly Deidre’s words drifted through his mind,
you lack the knowledge that a man must possess.
And he released her.
Birdsong resumed as they backed away from each other in the embarrassment that comes when hidden feelings have been exposed. Andrew coughed and Jenny brushed her skirts and turned away.
“I’ll get the saddlebags if you would like to spread out the blanket,” he said.
Shaking out the blanket, Jenny allowed it to drift, open, to the ground. Andrew brought the saddlebags and laid out sausages, cheeses, wine and fruit. As usual, Dora had outdone herself and there was an abundance of food. They piled food on plates, poured the wine and settled in for a feast. Propped up on one elbow, Andrew lay across one edge of the blanket and began to eat. Something about the sight and smell of Dora’s cooking dispelled any lack of appetite he had experienced earlier. Jenny sat across from him with her feet tucked beneath her.
“Tell me about Boston,” Andrew said.
“Boston is an exciting city, Andrew. Shops of every description line busy streets, and at one time they were filled with goods from England and Europe. The
Boston Gazette
informs everyone about events in these troubled times, and we have seen our share of fighting. Ever since the massacre, we have had British soldiers walking our streets, and tensions are higher than ever. But I love Boston, and I shall return when Father believes it is safe,” she said.
“I imagine it is difficult to be away from your family and friends,” Andrew said.
“Yes,” Jenny replied spreading honey across a biscuit. Andrew watched her intently, captivated by how small and slender her hands were and how gracefully she performed even such an ordinary task as that. He looked up and met her eyes.
“Do you have any
special
friends?” he asked feigning innocence.
Jenny cocked her head and looked at him for a moment as if trying to come to a decision. Finally, she gave him her half-smile and said, “Oh yes.”
Andrew’s face fell. “I see.”
“Let me see, there is my dearest friend Amy, my cousin Charlotte, whom I count as a bosom friend, and then my lifelong neighbor, Mary.” She hid a smile.
Andrew looked at her closely and sensed her mirth.
“I am not very practiced at subtlety, Jenny,” he confessed. She smiled and patted his hand.
“If you mean do I have a beau, no, Andrew, no one has captured my heart … ” she paused.
Andrew blushed and hated himself for it. Looking up, he saw tender humor in her eyes, not mockery.
“I am so glad you have come to Brentwood Manor, Jenny,” he said.
“I am very glad, too, Andrew,” she whispered.
He reached across and took her hand, glancing at her for acquiescence. She smiled and squeezed his hand.
“You are a mystery to me, Jenny. You bring about sensations I have never experienced before. When you enter a room, it is as if the sun entered with you. When you laugh, it is as though angels sing. I am befuddled by the feelings that somersault through me when we touch like this.” He
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