Light moments like this were a balm to the darker shadows hanging between them.
Later, at home, Elizabeth nuzzled his shoulder, voice soft and full of trust. “I feel so safe with you. I never imagined I could.”
“Ye always will with me,” he promised, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.
But beneath the peaceful veneer, the storm was never far away.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
An afternoon at Hyde Park used to be a kind of soft torture for Elizabeth.
It had always begun innocuously enough, a stroll among the budding trees, the breeze lifting the ribbons on one’s bonnet, but it never ended that way. Her stepmother would watch her with hawk-like vigilance, maneuvering her into the paths of eligible gentlemen like a chess master cornering her final move.
Elizabeth had always hated the parade. Even among the flocks of other debutantes enduring the same fate, she had felt exposed and inferior. Too pale, too quiet, too forgettable.
Today was meant to undo those memories. Alasdair had declared it so: a picnic, informal and unchaperoned, surrounded not by judging eyes but by the warm laughter of people who truly loved her.
And she’d believed him.
At least, she wanted to believe that this moment, this calm, could replace what once had been.
They settled beneath the wide boughs of an ancient oak tree, its green canopy casting dappled shadows over the large tartan blanket that covered the grass. The spot overlooked the shimmering Serpentine, where swans floated languidly in the afternoon sun, and carriages rolled along the edges of the wide paths. It was, Elizabeth thought, almost idyllic.
“This is a delightful spot, Lizzie,” Marianne said, lowering herself onto the blanket with a contented sigh. She leaned back on her hands and lifted her face to the sky. “Even the sun seems to be smiling on us today.”
“I chose it meself, ye know,” Alasdair added with a slight grin, glancing at Elizabeth as if seeking reward.
She offered him a half-smile and a subtle nudge of her knee against his. A quiet thank you.
He understood it, as always.
“It’s perfect!” Victoria exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “But who’s forgetting about all this food? Sandwiches, strawberries, lemon cakes, raspberry tarts… heaven!”
“You’re right,” Daphne chimed in, reaching for a triangle of cucumber sandwich. “This is no picnic without a feast.”
“You do know the food’s meant to be shared, not hoarded like a dragon’s treasure?” Wilhelmina said, lifting a brow at Victoria, who already had a tart in one hand and a strawberry in the other. “At this rate, you’ll have your own picnic kingdom before the rest of us get a bite.”
“Oh, a dragon,” Victoria muttered around a bite she’d taken from a raspberry tart. “I wouldn’t mind being one at all.”
Daphne choked on a sip of lemonade. “Youwhat?”
Victoria shrugged, crumbs dusting her skirt. “I mean it. Dragons are powerful and no one tells them what to do. They sleep all day and fly wherever they like. It soundsamazing.”
“Victoria,” Daphne said with wide eyes, as if her sister had just confessed to villainy. “Dragons are always the bad ones. They eat knights! And villagers! And sometimespuppies!”
“They donoteat puppies,” Victoria huffed. “That was one story. And it was a very small dragon who didn’t know better.”
“Didn’t know any better? It was apuppy, Vicky!” Daphne asked, indignant. “And what about the princesses they lock in towers?”
“Maybe the princesswanteda tower,” Victoria said sweetly. “Maybe she needed a break from people saying ‘sit up straight’ and ‘don’t eat like an animal’.”
That earned a snort from Wilhelmina, who had been lying back against the picnic basket, eyes half-lidded in sun-drenched amusement. “You two have clearly lost the plot. Dragons don’t do anything half as exciting as this. If Victoria were a dragon, she’d only hoard jam tarts and complain about the temperature in her cave.”
“Iwould not!” Victoria protested, scandalized. “I’d also hoard necklaces. And art. And… probably a cat.”
“Villain,” Daphne whispered, pointing accusingly.
“Oh hush, you’dcryif someone called you a villain,” Victoria retorted. “And I’d breathe fire at them.”