Page 4 of My Favorite Mistake
“They’ve got raspberry jam puffs!” A lad a mite younger than Billy, skirting that line between boy and man, came bursting into their group. “Can I have a penny? Can I? Can I?”
“Not right now, Noah,” Nick grumbled.
The boy froze, then turned to face Fanny.
As his face came into full view, Becky gave another one of her melodramatic gasps.
Only this time Fanny gasped along with her because Noah Cradduck was the spitting image of his father.
“Innocent, my arse!” Fanny shouted. She swung her parasol as hard as she could, aiming for his head.
He dodged the worst of it so she only got a glancing blow off his shoulder, but it felt good to hit him all the same.
Nick rubbed his shoulder. “Damn it, Fanny! That hurt!”
“That’s the least you deserve.” She wheeled around to go find Lady Caroline.
“No.” He snagged her arm again. “Not until we’ve had a talk.”
But Billy chose that moment to snap out of his stupor. His face flushed as he stepped in front of Fanny and stared into the face of his new overseer, but he held his chin up. “You need to let her go.”
Nick looked startled but did just that.
“Fanny is my friend,” Billy said in a voice that quavered. “She’s my friend, and she’s a good woman. And if she says she doesn’t want to talk to you—begging your pardon, sir, but she shouldn’t have to.”
Nick shook his head, looking dazed. “No, that’s right. Of course, that’s right. But—” He looked right at her then, and those storm-grey eyes were filled with such misery, such sincerity, Fanny’s will began to crack. And then he said in a guttural whisper, “Please, Fanny?”
And she… She…
She was on the verge of making a terrible mistake when Becky stalked around her cart and wrapped her arm around Fanny’s waist. “She don’t want nothing to do with you,” she said, tart as one of her Green Styre apples. Becky put two fingers in her mouth and gave one of those shrill whistles some people are able to do. “John! Willis! I need you!”
Two stocky, blond-haired farm boys who looked to be her older brothers came lumbering over. “Mind the cart,” Becky said. “I’ll be back in a bit.”
“Aww, Becky,” the shorter one groaned. “Minding the cart? That’s work for—”
“That’s work for you, for the next hour,” Becky said, taking off her apron and hanging it from one of the cart handles. “And make sure no one follows us,” she added, nodding significantly at Nick and Noah.
The shorter brother started to protest again, but the other one silenced him with a hand to his shoulder. “We’ll do it.” He accompanied these words with a hard look at Nick.
Nick sighed. “Come on, Noah. Let’s get you your jam puffs.”
Becky was already leading Fanny away with Billy trotting at their heels. She glanced over her shoulder only to find that Nick was glancing overhisshoulder back at her. His eyes were mournful, and then he got swallowed by the crowd.
Fanny shook her head, feeling stunned. She glanced around and found they were on the edge of the green. “Where are we going?”
“Don’t you worry,” Becky said, leading them out toward an open field. “I know just the place. Follow—”
She pulled up short as her path was blocked by a man of about twenty-five years with dark, greasy hair. “Where are you going, Becky?” he asked sharply.
“That’s none of your business, Ralph,” Becky said primly.
Ralph cast a dark look toward Billy. “Of course, it’s my business if my girl is going off with some other fellow.”
Becky blew out a breath, exasperated. When she spoke, her voice was gentle but firm. “I’ve told you and told you. I’m not your girl.”
“But, Becky—”
“And I’m not going to be. You need to accept that and leave me be. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
