Page 79 of Hearts of Briarwall

Andrew cleared his throat. “What have you ladies been discussing in such an idyllic setting? Tennyson? Plato? How Mr. Hanover’s donkey’s persistent escapes from its pen correlates with the phases of the moon?”

“Bird-watching,” Lydia said. “We’ve decided it a romantic sport, haven’t we, Ruby?”

Ruby nodded, her cheeks reddening. “Oh, er, quite. H-have either of you ever been?”

Both gentlemen shook their heads.

Spencer gestured back to the house. “Unless you count the robin building a nest in the walnut tree outside my room.”

“Has she started already, then?” Lydia asked. “I should like to have a look. Every year, I put out old ribbons and embroidery floss, and the nest is a festive delight for May Day.”

Ruby leaned toward her. “Remember the year when we each snipped a lock of our hair and set it on the shrubbery beneath her tree?”

“She made a nest of our hair,” Lydia said, smiling up at the gentlemen. “We were so pleased.”

“A most lovely gift,” Andrew said, looking between them both.

Lydia paused. “Was that a compliment?”

He narrowed his gaze. “Contrary to popular opinion, I do appreciate a thing of beauty, and I am able to express that appreciation when it strikes me.”

She rose to her knees and clapped her hands. “Oh, do give us an example.”

Andrew’s ears turned pink.

Ruby reached over and rested her hand upon Lydia’s arm. “Come now, Lydia, it’s inconsiderate to put a gentleman on the spot.”

“Is it inconsiderate to put abrotheron the spot?”

A slow smile spread across her lips. “By all means, do continue.”

Lydia beamed at Andrew. “Go on, then.”

He drew himself up. “Very well. Miss Burke.” He cleared his throat. “Ruby.The last time you played the harp for us I was transformed. Indeed, it was a thing of beauty, and I did not express it then. I do so now.” He made a small bow in her direction.

Ruby stared up at him, then found her voice. “Why, thank you, Andrew. I’m delighted. And ... shocked.”

“Then perhaps I don’t express my appreciation as often as I think I do.”

“I believe sincerity trumps frequency, sir.”

Andrew nodded in gratitude. “Then count me as sincere.”

Lydia looked between the two of them, then caught Andrew’s eye. “And me?” she asked, full of cheek. She batted her lashes. “I’ll settle for frequency.”

Spencer turned aside, his hand over his mouth, hiding his amusement.

Andrew drew in a deep breath and let it go slowly.

She waited, eyes wide.

He squared himself to her. “You, my sister, have more heart than I could ever hope to discipline, more strength than I can fathom, and you sing”—he swallowed hard—“like Mother.”

Lydia blinked, and her fingers touched the watch pin on her blouse. The others said nothing as Andrew let her search his gaze—something she realized he seldom allowed.

He lowered his chin. “How was that for frequency?”

She only nodded. Ruby took her hand and whispered, “I believe he covered both that time.”

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