Dare.
His face is intense, focused, and he’s staring at the man across the table from him. He’s not happy, far from it, in fact.
I can’t see the other man, not clearly, even though I crane my neck. I can only partially see his face, the rest of him is hidden.
But he’s firmly middle-aged, maybe fifty-something? Dark haired, and the one cheek that I can see looks flushed, a scarlet red flash of color.
Why are they upset?
Dare must feel me staring at him, and he turns, his dark eyes meeting mine. There is surprise in his, then dismay. I see it, I feel it, and then he looks away.
He’s trying to pretend I didn’t see him, and I wonder if I should do the same?
But he doesn’t give me the chance.
After dinner, while Eleanor and Sabine are engaged in a quiet conversation in the library, Dare approaches me with his black slacks and his light cashmere sweater.
He’s overwhelmingly handsome, and I struggle to pretend like he’s not.
“Forget you saw me earlier,” he tells me, and his voice is a little bit hard.
“What?” I ask in confusion, staring into his face, ignoring his chiseled jaw. He gazes down at me, so easily able to fluster me.
“You didn’t see me in town.” It’s a directive and he means it.
I nod, not sure what else to do. Why is this so important?
“Ok,” I agree. “I didn’t see you. What were you doing that’s such a secret?”
He glares at me now and I almost regret asking, but I don’t. What was he doing?
“You can’t know right now,” he snaps, his lips lush and his tone ugly. “Trust me, you can’t know yet.”
“Why?”
He pauses, then looks at me, his eyes sincere and open and mine. “Because you would be lost.”
As he walks away with the millions of hidden things in his eyes, I wonder if I already am.
* * *
I’m reading a book alone in the library when Sabine finds me, a cup of steaming hot chocolate in her hand. She sets it next to me, then sits in the adjacent chair.
“Dare is worried about you,” she tells me.
“He told you that?” I ask doubtfully, because he was so annoyed with me earlier. She shakes her head.
“No. But I can see it.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “Don’t worry about it. If he’s truly concerned, he’ll tell me.”
Maybe.
But maybe I don’t know anymore.
“I don’t know that he would,” Sabine answers. “You’ve pushed him away. He has no idea how to reach you now.”
My chest hurts at that, because I know it’s true.
“I don’t want to talk about it,’ I answer stiffly.
She nods and changes the subject.
“Your grandmother knows you changed your gown.”
“Was it a secret?” I ask in surprise. “I didn’t like the one she picked, it looked terrible on me. I chose a better color.”
Sabine stares at me, humor in her old eyes. “She’s not pleased,” she tells me, but somehow, I feel like Sabine might be.
“You remind me of your mother,” she adds.
“Everyone keeps saying that. Is it a bad thing?” I ask hesitantly.
She smiles. “No. It’s a good thing. So curious and kind. I hope Whitley doesn’t change you.”
“It won’t,” I reply stoutly.
Sabine cocks her head, but doesn’t answer. She stares out the window across the hall, and makes no motion to leave. I stare at her over the top of my book.
“Was there something else?”
I don’t want to be rude, but I really want a minute alone, and something about this woman puts me on edge. She knows things better than I do… she knows Dare better, and she might even know me better. It’s unsettling.
She turns her gaze to me, wise and old, and I fight the urge to flinch.
“We should read your cards again,” she suggests. I do flinch now, and she chuckles.
“It’s not a scary thing,” she assures me. “My family has been doing it for hundreds of years. My mother, her mother, her mother. And so on.”
“Only the women?” I ask, curious now. She nods.
“Only the women.”