Page 31 of Entwined By Error (Madcaps of Mayfair #1)

The Perils of Picnicking

The summer was nearing its end, but it was still warm enough in Bardsea for a picnic; therefore, Daniel spent the morning in preparation to invite his wife on a walk, where they would chance upon a checkered blanket nestled under the shade of an obliging willow near the pond.

Directing her along a path they hadn’t yet taken on their morning walks, Daniel talked about the weather, the breeze coming off the sea, and his plans for the estate.

It was important to him to let Myra know that when he was in his study, he wasn’t simply wasting the day away; he did work, sometimes.

He wasn’t certain when it would be appropriate to show her the art studio, but he was slowly building up to a walk along the cliff and out to the old greenhouse.

“Did you see that?” Myra asked as she ran toward the pond.

He slowly followed after her, guiding her ever so slowly toward the picnic he had planned—taking her directly would ruin the surprise.

When she turned back, he realized the exact moment she saw the blanket.

Instead of telling him what had drawn her attention to the pond, she ran back to him and took hold of his hands pulling him forward.

“Why, Mr. Northcott, you are full of surprises this day. Dragonflies skimming the surface of the pond like little fairies, frogs hopping lily pads, and a picnic. However did you manage to create such a magical moment?”

“I admit, the dragonflies and frogs have minds of their own; I have nothing to do with them. But the picnic was my idea, with the assistance of Cook, of course.”

“It is perfect,” she said as she turned back to look at the blanket and hamper.

Everything was exactly as he had left it; little sandwiches and lemon tarts tucked away in the hamper; two glasses sparkling in the sunlight, waiting for the chilled cordial he had tucked away in the shade, bobbing in the water to keep it at the perfect temperature.

The two sat in companionable silence, eating their way through the hamper to their hearts’ content.

Everything seemed perfect, his eyes catching hers, offering what seemed like stolen moments he’d never get back once they left the protection of the willow tree.

Scooting closer toward her, he pulled at the strings of her bonnet, loosening them until he freed her hair.

“If I end up with a face full of freckles, I shall blame you until they disappear.”

He placed the bonnet on the blanket beside him. “I shall take your warning under advisement, although do you not feel it is cumbersome on a day like this?”

“Perhaps you are right,” she said as she sat back against the tree trunk. “We shall not have many more days like this one, at least, not if the vicar’s wife is to be believed. Last Sunday she warned of terrible rainstorms that will soon shake the house with bouts of lightning and thunder.”

Daniel folded one leg up so he could lean against his knee. “A bit dramatic, though I shall allow you to form your own opinion upon the matter.”

They smiled at each other, neither of them speaking as they gazed into each other’s eyes. His fingers brushed against hers, a featherlight touch that sent warmth pulsating through his hand up to his chest. He was at peace, a feeling that had long been missing in his life.

As though Mother Nature needed to prove the vicar’s wife correct in her grim predictions, the wind stirred to life, a swirl of leaves and dust skittering through their peaceful picnic.

Myra gasped as her bonnet lifted from the blanket and danced away on the breeze like an elegant lady in flight. But the bonnet did not drop back to the blanket; instead, it flew out of their reach toward the pond with a swiftness that allowed it to land primly on the water’s edge.

“My bonnet!” she cried, rising from the blanket.

“I shall retrieve it,” Daniel said as he jumped to his feet, determined to catch the bonnet before it took flight once more and landed in the water.

He was nearly to the bonnet when he heard Myra’s laughter floating on the wind.

Peering over his shoulder, he bent over in laughter as he saw Myra hurrying after him, her skirts gathered in one hand as she attempted to match his pace.

He turned back toward his quarry, Myra chasing him as he chased the wind and the bonnet.

Daniel reached it first, crouching low to retrieve the bonnet by its ribbons, but just as his fingers inched toward the purple silk ribbons, something caught his eye. He paused, shifting only slightly, to find a goose watching his every move.

It was not a charming sort of goose—not the storybook variety with a pink ribbon tied around its neck. Instead, the goose was the matriarch of the pond, settled atop her nest like a queen upon her throne, her beady eyes narrowing in offense.

Determined to retrieve the bonnet, Daniel leaned down ever so slowly, trying not to startle Mother Goose—yet, the slightest movement had the goose lifting from her nest. Since she hadn’t left her perch, Daniel continued his steady pace, his fingers barely touching the ribbons, backside aloft for both his wife and the goose to view.

He had nearly grabbed the ribbon to pull the bonnet to safety when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye that made his hair stand on end.

Myra’s laughter was closer than it had been seconds before, followed by the rustle of her dress and slippers in the grass.

But Daniel’s focus was upon the goose as its expression shifted from affronted to fury, her wings spreading as she took flight.

Forgetting the bonnet, he turned and pulled Myra into his arms, protectively pulling her down to the grass near the edge of the pond.

He was certain they would escape the goose if they didn’t move, but he found he was wrong when it let out a battle cry so ferocious it startled Myra into a shriek.

Daniel turned back to the monstrous goose to find wings flapping, beak gaping like the jaws of Hades as it launched across the distance, flying at him with the fury of an angry goddess.

Feathers blurred the sunlight, and suddenly the world around him vanished beneath the white flapping fury as a beak pecked his head.

Daniel staggered backward, fighting against the rabid bird, but his attempts failed.

Instead of freeing himself from the winged beast, he tripped, losing his balance and plunging into the pond with the goose still attached to his head.

Suddenly locked in the greatest duel of his life, Daniel knew the only way to free himself from the bird would be to sink into the water.

With as deep a breath as he could muster, he allowed his knees to buckle.

He had no solid plan, only what he could manage within a few panicked seconds. Holding his breath, he continued the fight—until he was suddenly free. When the thrashing stopped, he allowed his head to break the water’s surface so he could take a deep inhale of much needed air.

Slowly opening his eyes, he looked around to find the creature no longer there. He emerged to find the goose sitting upon its nest once more, majestically staring him down as though in challenge.

His only thought in that moment was Myra. Searching the water’s edge, he let out a sigh of relief as he found her curled up as he had left her, waiting for his return.

Hair plastered to his head, he waded to the water’s edge, a few feet away from where the goose sat, eyes watchful for another invasion. Stepping out of the water, he assisted Myra to her feet as they both scurried away from the winged fiend.

“Are you”—Myra tried to compose herself, eyes shining with tears as she held to him—“are you well?”

He panted and, looking around, was utterly scandalized to find that after all their efforts, the bonnet still lay upon the grass.

In all the confusion, neither he nor Myra had remembered to retrieve it.

Determined not to leave her bonnet to the goose, Daniel marched forward.

“I shall be, once I have saved your covering from that b—” He stopped himself.

It would be highly inappropriate to say blasted in front of his wife.

“Leave it!” Myra cried. “You are injured, and we must get you to the house.” She pulled him back toward their picnic and then gathered the blanket so she could wrap it around his shoulders.

Although she was shorter than him, she kept a protective hold upon him, guiding him as though she wasn’t certain he could find the way back to the house on his own.

The tight hold of her arms was worth the effort; he may not have saved her bonnet, but she was hovering over him as though he would crumble to the dirt path without her support. Each gentle word she spoke was a boon to his heart.

“What an awful beast!” Myra crooned as she rubbed his arms to lend warmth. “Once we are home, I shall endeavor to warm you properly. I have no feathers, but I daresay I am softer.”

His voice shook as a gale of wind continued to blow around them. “Pray, tell my family I died bravely and with honor.”

Myra laughed, the cheerful sound blowing away far too quickly for his liking, and then she suddenly looked at him with a sincerity that spoke of her fears. “You were very brave, Mr. Northcott. I do not know what I shall do if the goose attempts another duel.”

He tried to be as serious as she had been but could not help the laughter. “I nearly thought I would find a feathered glove thrown at my feet. Perhaps if we return to fetch your bonnet, we shall find the glove hiding near the ribbons.”

“Do not fear, husband, I shall choose you over the goose. No duel is necessary.”

By the time they reached his bedchamber, Daniel was shivering. He collapsed into the nearest chair while his wife took charge, all humor wiped away.

“I need warm water. Fetch clean linens and prepare a bath. We need a fire in the grate before he catches his death.”

It was highly unlikely he would die from a dip in the pond, but he did not care to argue with Myra; not while she was focused upon him.

Servants scurried about, obeying her every command.

Under her brisk ministrations, Daniel sat in dazed silence, eyes half-lidded as weariness pulled at him.

He hadn’t imagined a goose could inflict such damage, but there he was, battered, bruised, and oddly humbled.

His arms hung uselessly at his sides, aching as though he’d gone three rounds with a well-trained pugilist and lost spectacularly.

When Myra returned with a cloth and a determined glint in her eye, he murmured, “Your bonnet?”

“Do not concern yourself with something so frivolous at this moment.” She paused in her ministrations long enough to meet his concerned gaze. “If in the morning you are still concerned over it, I shall allow you to buy a new one for me, once you have healed.”

He laughed, but only slightly as the lack of movement over the last few minutes had brought awareness to his aching arms. “You may have as many bonnets as you wish, if only you will protect me from that murderous goose for the rest of my days.”

She dabbed a salve on his head; it stung, causing him to wince. She blew on it, the tingling of her breath spreading down the side of his head. “Oh, it is not so bad, is it?”

“Not terribly.”

“Good. Since you shall live, we will have to find a new spot for picnicking. I am quite disgruntled that our outing was shortened.”

He would have strolled out to the pond that very moment to find a new spot so he could spread a blanket for their supper, but a shiver ran through his body, one that even the fire could not calm. “Perhaps another day.”

“You cannot think I would wish you to find a spot today.” Myra placed a bandage on his head before wrapping a longer one around it. “Your valet shall assist you out of these wet clothes and into a bath, then you will spend the rest of the day in bed.”

“Bed?” Daniel loved the way she had taken charge, but there was no need for him to lie about as though he were an invalid.

“I do not believe I stuttered.” She leaned down, placing a kiss on his forehead. “I shall brook no refusals.”

His heart tripped as completely as he had over the tree root before he fell into the pond, then it stalled entirely as her soft lips brushed his brow. He’d barely had time to steady his breath when she spoke again, her voice was soft... and different.

"Daniel, do as I ask."

The pain was suddenly forgotten, and all he could do was stare up into her beautiful brown eyes.

Her words echoed in his ears even though she was no longer speaking.

It wasn’t just a name, it was his name, spoken like a secret she’d finally decided to share.

The sound of it from her lips stole what little breath he had left.

For once, Daniel Northcott, sharp of wit and quick with retorts, could find nothing to say.