easy at first to think of him as a spoiled young aristocrat, with his beautifully tailored clothes and perfect features. But on closer inspection, there were signs that conveyed the opposite. The deep-cut shadows beneath his eyes betrayed countless sleepless nights. The harsh grooves on either side of his mouth gave him a cynical look that was odd for a man so young. And in unguarded moments such as this, she saw in his eyes that he was no stranger to pain.
His expression changed like quicksilver. Once again he was a lazy rogue with mocking eyes. “The future is too boring to contemplate,” he said lightly. “Shall we continue, Miss Miller?”
Disconcerted by his swift change of mood, Lottie led him out of the forest to a sunken road. The morning sun rose higher, chasing the lavender from the sky and warming the meadows. The field they passed was filled with heather and emerald sphagnum moss, and dotted with tiny red sundewrosettes. “They don’t have views like this in London, do they?” Lottie remarked.
“No,” Lord Sydney agreed, although he seemed distinctly unenchanted by the quiet rural beauty around them.
“I gather you prefer town life,” Lottie said with a smile. “Tenements, cobbled streets, factories, coal smoke, and all that noise. How could anyone choose that over this ?”
The sunlight touched on the mahogany and gold highlights in his brown hair. “You keep your beetles and bogs, Miss Miller. I’ll take London any time.”
“I’ll show you something that London doesn’t have.” Triumphantly Lottie led him across the sunken road. They came to a deep muddy basin filled with water that spilled from the bank beside it.
“What is that?” Lord Sydney asked, viewing the sloshing hole dubiously.
“A wishing well. Everyone in the village visits it.” Busily Lottie searched the pockets of her walking skirts. “Oh, curse it, I haven’t got any pins.”
“What do you need pins for?”
“To drop in the well.” She gave him a chiding smile. “I thought everyone knew that you can’t make a wish without a pin.”
“What do you want to wish for?” he asked huskily.
“Oh, it isn’t for me. I’ve made dozens of wishes here. I wanted you to have one.” Giving up her search for a pin, Lottie glanced up at him.
There was a strange look on Lord Sydney’sface…blank, painfully surprised…as if he had just been kicked in the stomach. He didn’t move or blink, just stared at her as if he couldn’t quite comprehend her words. The silence between them became thick, and Lottie waited in helpless fascination for him to break it. Wrenching his gaze away, Lord Sydney gazed at the field of heather with puzzling intensity, as if his mind were striving to wrap itself around something that didn’t make sense.
“Do make a wish,” Lottie said impulsively. “I’ll throw a pin in the well for you the next time I come.”
Lord Sydney shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was oddly hoarse. “I wouldn’t know what to wish for.”
They continued in silence, making their way over a muddy patch and following the sunken road to a footbridge that covered a small stream. On the other side of the stream, a damp meadow beckoned, blazing with waist-high yellow meadowsweet bushes. “This way,” Lottie said, lifting her skirts to her knees as they traversed grass and heather and approached a barrier of hedge and fence. “Beyond the hedge, the footpath leads back through the forest to Stony Cross Park.” She pointed to the tall arched gate, so narrow that it would allow only one person to pass through at a time. Glancing at Lord Sydney, she was relieved to see that he had recovered his composure. “The only way through is that kissing gate.”
“Why is it called that?”
“I don’t know.” Lottie considered the gatethoughtfully. “I suppose because a kiss would be the unavoidable consequence of two people trying to pass through it at the same time.”
“An interesting theory.” Sydney