She rose, straightening her skirts and touching her hair to be sure each curl was properly in place. Properly in place, up here in the mountains, meant just the slightest bit out of place, a few tendrils escaping here and there as would appeal to a boy of Leo’s nature. Too much perfection might frighten him. “Lay out my green for tomorrow’s journey, goodwoman,” Daylily said as she passed from the room. Her maid, who knew the baron’s daughter perhaps better than anyone in this world, could not have told a soul what Daylily’s thoughts were from what she could see on her lady’s face. If someone had asked, she would have curtsied and said, “M’lady is herself, and her thoughts are her own. Pardon me, I have work to which I must attend.”
Daylily avoided the library. She always avoided the chance of meeting Foxbrush, particularly since that conversation they’d shared a few weeks back. She’d known from the moment she set eyes on him that he was no more than a stuffed shirt, but a superstitious stuffed shirt was even worse. He was too well educated, had spent too much time at court to hide behind the excuse of a rustic country upbringing. It was silly for a lad of his station, who could boast the lineage he did, to believe in Faerie stories and monsters. Daylily made it a point to shun him.
The house was busy, though she passed no one in the corridors. She could hear the bustle of packing and travel arrangements being made. Tomorrow, she and the two young sirs would set out from Hill House and journey together to the low country and across Baron Blackstone’s land. Then they would part ways, Daylily for Middlecrescent, the boys for the Eldest’s City. Or at least, this was the plan.
But it would not be much longer, if Daylily had any say in the matter.
She found Leo in the Blue Room. This was one of the many pointless rooms to be found in houses such as Hill House. Its sole purpose for existence was to be decorated, painted, and otherwise fitted out in shades of blue, many shades of which did not blend happily together. A lord or lady knew they had truly arrived when they could afford to have a Blue Room in their household, and Dame Willowfair was proud of hers. People seldom sat in it of course, for it was difficult to think anything but blue thoughts within its walls. But it provided a solitary spot in the house, and Leo liked it for that reason.
He sat in an overstuffed chair of blue velvet, to all apparent purposes studying a large textbook, but in reality, staring into the fireplace. His face was as empty as a face could be when he looked up to meet Daylily’s eyes. But he offered her a smile. “Hullo. How’s the packing going?”
“Well enough,” said Daylily, and her voice was sweet, but not nearly so sweet as her face when she settled into a low chair across from Leo’s. She was wearing a rich sienna-hued gown that contrasted starkly with the hues of that room, giving her skin a glow and her hair a fine sheen. It would be impossible not to admire her, even if she had not arranged herself to look so very fetching while seated.
Leo noticed. He even admired. He simply didn’t care.
They looked at each other, then looked away, then looked at each other again. This little exercise continued for about three rounds, and still Leo neither spoke nor seemed to notice the faraway sorrow that Daylily was so carefully painting on her face. She sighed and almost gave up then and there. But her father’s voice still spoke in her memory: “Did I ask you to love him?”
“I have enjoyed these last few months, Leo,” she said, her eyes gently veiled with long lashes. She waited a few poignant moments before softly adding, “Have you?”
“Have I what?”
“Have you enjoyed these last few months?”
He shrugged. This summer had not been what he had hoped, and his sleep had been less than restful. When the sun rose, Leo’s spirits failed to rise with it, and no amount of strong coffee had enabled him to clear his fuzzy head. That blasted dream returned every night, always with the same demand: Tell me what you want.
All he really wanted right now was an answer from Rose Red, but he’d not seen her since that night in the graveyard. And perhaps he’d dreamt that too. Moonlight and graveyards and beings that disappeared in a waft of rags . . . definitely not the stuff of waking hours.
He closed his eyes and sank his head into his hand. “It’s been right enough, I suppose,” he answered. “For summer, you know. Better than last year at Upperwold, where they made me attend an entire concert devoted to Poet Eanrin’s work. A misery.”
Daylily licked her lips. “Perhaps next year will be better still?” she suggested. “You might consider visiting Middlecrescent.”
“Maybe.” He shrugged again. Why did she have to come and talk at him just now? Why did girls talk so much anyway? He wanted to be alone, and he wanted a quiet snooze, a chance to catch up on sleep before beginning tomorrow’s long journey. A chance to—
Suddenly Daylily stood beside him, one soft hand removing his from his head, the other gently stroking his cheek. Leo came wide awake, blinking up at her, and noticed now how pretty all that red hair of hers was. Almost as pretty as it had been out in the forest with the light shining through the leaves and landing on it in bursts. What a brave creature she had looked that day, so beautiful and strong as she led the way up the mountain. A woman fit to be queen if ever there was one. And she was gazing deep into his eyes.
“Um.” Leo licked his lips.