Fifth Day of Christmas #3
Kestrel’s annoyance flared back up. She’d always been the dog person, not Hank.
Why did he have to be so good at everything?
She couldn’t stand it any longer and went over to the dog, crouching with her hands out in offering.
Winchester snuffled her hands with his big wet nose and then seemed pleased to receive her neck scratches.
“You’re a good Winchester, yes you are,” said Kestrel.
Now Winchester was on his back, squirming back and forth, his whole body wagging as he offered up his belly to Kestrel for some pats.
“That’s a good belly-boy,” Kestrel said, thrilled to offer rubs. “You’d like my dog, wouldn’t you, Winchester? You two would be best friends.”
“So you did it,” Hank said softly. “You got a dog.”
“Yep,” said Kestrel, keeping her eyes on Winchester. “I adopted Karma, the best dog in the entire world. Or at least the western hemisphere, right, Winchester?”
“I’m glad for you,” said Hank. “I’m glad you have a dog.”
Hmph, thought Kestrel, extra annoyed that he hadn’t asked if Karma was a good boy. She was never going to get to use that line. Oh well, hoping for such an opportunity had been a long shot. Kind of like enduring love.
“Are you . . . ?” Hank started.
She stood back up, her posture defensive. “What? Am I what, Hank?”
What was he going to say? Was she happy to see him? No, definitely not! Having a good time? Um, yeah, until you showed up and made things weird!
Hank looked at his hands as if wondering what to do with them and then shoved them into his jacket pockets.
“Are you, um, taking a turn about the gardens?”
Wait, had he actually just dropped an Austen line?
A shocked laugh coughed out of her throat, but at the same time, her heart warmed a little.
Between his bizarre bow and this attempt at Austenian dialogue, she could see that he was genuinely trying.
“Yeah, I’m taking a turn about the gardens, Mr. Kern. And you?”
“I was helping Edwin shoe a horse, not that he needs my help, but it’s nice to keep my hands busy.”
It would also be nice if you went home, Kestrel thought defensively. But Edwin’s presence made keeping to the rules feel paramount. And Hank was standing there, patient and expectant, so she gave in and continued their ruse of a Regency conversation.
“How is Windy Nook?”
“Nice. Good. And Pembrook Park?”
“Everything I ever dreamed of, everything I ever wanted,” she said.
He flinched. She was telling the truth, and he knew it. Well, the immediate truth. Of course, there were many things she’d wanted in the past, such as a life with him, but she’d stabbed those dreams through their eye sockets.
Uncomfortable, he scratched his forehead with his left hand.
She stole a glance but saw no wedding ring.
The past couple of years, she’d sometimes searched his family’s social media, since he annoyingly didn’t have any accounts of his own.
On his sister Anika’s feed, she’d seen more than one photo of Hank standing beside a lovely blond woman, and Kestrel had assumed it was his new girlfriend.
He must have one. Hank was made for lifelong commitment.
“So . . .” Hank seemed to be fumbling for some other small talk, when into the stable yard came the entire walking party. Kestrel couldn’t bear to look at Andrews. Everything inside her seemed to scream, Run away! Run away!
“At last, Miss Spinster, here you are!” said Tom.
“We were deploringly worried for you,” said Mr. Culpepper.
“We were playing search party!” Tom said brightly.
“I feared you had been spirited away into Faerie and might not return till the new moon,” said Mr. Culpepper.
“My kindest, most attentive gentlemen,” said Kestrel. She put a hand on Tom’s cheek and gazed into his mahogany eyes. His expression responded with surprise morphing into delight. Then she took Mr. Culpepper’s hand between both her own and squeezed it. His mouth opened, a small inhale of pleasure.
“I discovered our Mr. Kern here studying a trade under the wise tutelage of Edwin,” said Kestrel.
“Mr. Kern, did you walk all the way from Windy Nook?” asked Tom.
“I don’t mind a walk,” Hank said, his voice betraying a little annoyance.
“‘Yes, yes, I know,’” Kestrel said dryly, just to amuse herself.
Edwin’s gaze fixed on something behind Kestrel, and he rushed forward with great alarm. Kestrel spun around, expecting—she didn’t know what. A bear attack? They had bears in England, didn’t they? Or maybe a really threatening squirrel?
“Charming!” Edwin said, at her side at once, an arm around her waist. “You look unwell!”
Charming did look tired, Kestrel supposed, but nothing that required alarmed rushing.
“I’m just flushed from the speed walking, what-what,” said Charming. “But maybe I’ll set my goose to nest in the doohickey and have a gargle.”
“Of course,” said Edwin, as if he knew exactly what she was talking about.
He soon had her settled in a little one-horse cart, blankets laid over her lap, with a bottle of some kind of liquor he fetched from the building.
“Thank you, Edwin,” said Charming. “You’re always so kind.”
“Whatever you need,” he said.
Kestrel was very interested in this development and looked for Andrews to exchange significant glances with before remembering that she needed to avoid him for the rest of her life or she would literally spontaneously combust from regret and shame.
“Can you take Charming back to the house, Edwin?” said Kestrel.
“Of course!” he said, clearly eager to do anything to help Charming.
Edwin fetched a different horse to hook to Charming’s cart, and Hank jumped in to help. As he leaned over the horse to strap on its gear, he glanced back at Kestrel. His expression seemed to be seeking sign of her permission. Or approval?
Kestrel’s warming heart began to pound with dangerous hope. She quickly turned her back to Hank and put her arms through Tom’s and Mr. Culpepper’s.
“As for me, I’m not done walking. Perhaps you two wouldn’t mind continuing our stroll? Just the three of us?”
“Capital,” said Tom.
“I would die enraptured,” said Mr. Culpepper.
Before they had gone too far to overhear, Kestrel caught bits of conversation behind her.
Jerome: “Shall we speed up to join them?”
Andrews: “Let them walk on . . .”
Gussie: “Finally! I am so tired of that Miss Spinster.”
Jerome: “. . .”
Gussie: “Well, you must see how aggravating she is, so bossy and sometimes downright brutal . . .”
Kestrel bade her gentlemen walk a little faster. She would outrun all unpleasantness if she could. She had a lot of practice trying.