Frederica led the way from the farmhouse to a large tree on a slight hill. ‘This is the perfect place for a picnic.’
Samuel laid out the blanket, and before he could assist her, Frederica lay down on it and stretched out her arms. ‘I am exhausted. I did not see you at the Nottinghams’ party last night, but there were plenty of officers there. We frolicked until the early hours of this morning.’
‘I am sure you danced with them all.’
She shaded her eyes with one hand. ‘Oh, I did!’
Sitting down beside her, he leaned against his elbow. Samuel could not remember the last time they had simply sat together, relaxing. Then he felt her fingers crawl up his side and tickle him just below the arm at his most sensitive spot. He laughed and yelped, trying to grab her hands. But all Stringham girls were experts at torturing boys and she evaded his grasp, causing him to laugh even harder until he could barely breathe. Even then she did not show him mercy, but straddled across his lap and began to tickle his other side.
‘You’re still ticklish here!’
‘Stop! Stop!’ he managed between laughs.
Surprisingly, she did. Frederica’s eyes widened as she realised that she was all but sitting on his lap. A becoming blush stole into her cheeks, but she did not retreat. He didn’t think she knew how to. Instead, she leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Again, Samuel could not breathe. Her mouth slid over his insistently, until he opened his own and deepened the kiss. Despite already being on the ground, he felt like he was falling. Hard. Fast. And out of control. That was how Frederica always made him feel, but for once he did not fight it. He surrendered. There was no feeling in the world to compare it to. No thrill was equal to this pleasure.
Then just as abruptly as she started it, she ended the kiss. Frederica jumped off him and opened the picnic basket as if she had not been kissing him moments before. She tore off a piece of bread and handed it to him. ‘Our second course, Belgian bread.’
He sat back up. ‘What was our first?’
She grinned at him, her eyes dancing. ‘English lips. Ever so much better than cow tongue.’
He laughed. He loved her wit. Taking a bite, Samuel discovered that the bread was soft and delicious. He tried to concentrate on the flavour and not the fact that Frederica had been on top of him moments before. She certainly knew how to torment a man, but she always had.
Samuel took a drink of milk from the carafe—there were no glasses. ‘Tell me more about yourself. What are your interests? What do you like to do? I feel as if I know everything and nothing.’
Frederica took the jug from his hand and pressed her lips where his had been only moments before. ‘What a good line! Have you used it on many ladies?’
Squeezing his eyes shut, Samuel should have known better than to try and converse like an adult with her. ‘You are impossible!’
She let out a high trill of laughter. ‘Now that is a phrase I do recognise, for you have said it about my poor self at least a hundred times.’
Ripping off a piece of cheese, Samuel ate silently. He was not about to rise to her bait again.
Frederica continued merrily, ‘I discovered Mr Foxworth, the latest London poet, going around to different young ladies and comparing them to Miss Elizabeth Bennet fromPride and Prejudice. And I can assure you that line worked wonderfully well on myself and many a lady. It was a trifle disappointing to both my heart and my pride that he had not truly meant it.’
The poet’s description was not entirely inaccurate, his betrothed was certainly a headstrong girl.
She took a few bites of bread before speaking again. ‘Have you readPride and Prejudice?’
As a matter of fact, his mother had sent him a copy in Spain. He had read it out to his fellow officers and they all enjoyed it greatly. ‘Yes.’
‘I am going to need more than monosyllabic responses if we are going to get to know one another better as adults.’
‘Is that what we are doing?’
Frederica waved her chunk of bread at him. ‘You asked to know more about me. I love to read. I have just finished reading all the novels by Maria Edgeworth, but Miss Austen’s novels are my favourite.Pride and Prejudiceis a particular treat because there are five sisters in it. And I do think that my sister Mantheria would make a most excellent Jane. And Elizabeth’s wit and beautiful singing was just like my late sister, Elizabeth. I miss her every day.’
Her elder sisters were twins, but Elizabeth had died when she was only ten years old. She had been a bright young girl who sang more than she spoke. Samuel had wept when Elizabeth and Charles had died from scarlet fever. Charles had been his dearest friend and so young, only in his first year of school.
‘Unfortunately, as the third that would make me Mary,’ Frederica continued, counting on her fingers, ‘and I cannot help but see some similarities between us.’
‘You are anything but plain,’ Samuel scoffed.
She smiled at him, but there was a wistfulness in it. ‘That is nice of you to say. But Mary plays the pianoforte, like myself, and she tries so hard to be something more, only to be a figure of fun. A caricature of a young woman.’
He had no response. He did not know how a bright and talented young woman could become something more. The most that she could hope for was to be known as a brilliant society hostess and possibly help write her husband’s parliamentary speeches. There was no place in politics, business, education, or even the arts for a woman of high birth to succeed. Even though Frederica played the pianoforte with the flare and feeling of a professional, it would never be more than a talent to ‘exhibit’ at a party.
After a few moments of painful silence, he said, ‘Does Becca still draw caricatures? I recall her being very talented at them. Or has she relinquished rodents for suitors and soldiers? Like Kitty and Lydia Bennet?’