After church, the baron returned to Rumpole Hall by carriage. Everyone else elected to walk the mile and a half. Pip’s steps fell in time with Lord Octavius’s without any conscious effort on her part. It happened quite naturally, as it had up on the sheep-down yesterday, and she wondered if it had been that way from the moment they’d first met and she just hadn’t noticed.
Newingham and Mr. Pryor were engaged in a lively debate about the merits of a three-horse unicorn hitch, but she and Lord Octavius didn’t talk. There was no need to. It was enough to simply walk side by side, exchanging smiling glances, while the girls gathered wildflowers and Newingham and Pryor argued about horse teams. The things she wanted to say to Lord Octavius—the things she wanted him to say to her—were too perso
