Page 60 of Hearts of Locke Hill

“Thank you, Mr. Burke. I wonder if it would be in vain to wish you the same.” She eyed the broken end of the stick he still gripped in his hand.

He tossed it toward the brush and wiped his hands together. “Of course not. Just lost in a bit of … reminiscing. I never could resist a good stick when undertaking a ramble.”

“Indeed,” she said, her blue eyes wide. “Nor a good thrashing of said stick?”

He gave in to a smile. “I’m a bit stronger than I was at twelve.”

Her sharp gaze took him in quickly, head to foot. “The poor stick never had a chance,” she muttered.

He looked away, hiding his amusement at her cheeky observation. Florrie Janes was not known for her reserve. To call her a flirt would be too simple and a degradation. Most flirts he’d encountered seldom made direct eye contact without lowered or fluttering lashes while giggling at their gentlemen prey and were not quite so honest in their observations. Miss Janes, heiress to the Grant-Janes empire, might have a careless, flighty, feminine air about her at first look, but the young woman was no featherbrain; she did not simper, and a gentleman would do well to regard her with caution and respect. Cy had an idea that when Miss Janes decided to truly flirt, the unsuspecting man would be rendered quite helpless, not knowing up from down, as if hit in the head by a cricket bat.

He shuddered.

“Where is your ramble taking you this morning, might I ask?” She lifted her lace parasol and opened it, despite the enormity of her befeathered hat, as the sun brightened from behind a passing cloud.

He nodded toward the gardens. “Taking in the grounds. Just a walk to clear my head.”

“How extraordinary,” she said, brightening.

He repressed a sense of foreboding. “Is it? I thought it rather common.”

Her lips pursed in a condescending smirk. “Quite, but that is not what I meant.”

“Ah. What did you mean?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You are teasing me, Mr. Burke. You may appear aloof, everything responsible and dignified, but I believe there is a sense of fun hidden somewhere beneath that derby hat.”

He made no response, as it would likely only encourage her curiosity.

“What is hidden beneath Mr. Burke’s derby hat?” Violet appeared on the lane, coming from the direction of the school. “A frog? A secret letter from the king? No, wait. A tiny ship in a bottle.” She stopped next to Florrie, grinning, and placed her hands at her hips—a fetching pose for her figure—as she gazed at his chapeau.

Cy had quickly straightened, then cursed himself for doing so under the close scrutiny of Miss Janes. “Good morning, Miss Whittemore.” He gathered himself, demanding the stronger beat of his heart to calm. “Miss Janes was referring to my sense of fun or, rather, assessing whether or not I had any.” He placed his hand upon his derby, settling it further in place.

She tsked three times. “Would you care for me to enlighten her?”

He was in for it now.

Miss Janes looked to her friend with brow raised. “Please, do enlighten.”

“Oh, well, this is something of a lifelong study for me.” Violet clasped her hands in front of her in mock seriousness. Cyril affected a scowl as she approached him, making a slow circle about him as if he were a new addition to a menagerie. “Take note of the straight spine. The studious brow. The clenched—” She cleared her throat.

The chaperone gasped.

“—jaw.”

Miss Janes muffled a laugh.

Cy scowled for real this time, but Violet continued. “But what have we here?” she said.

Cy braced for the inevitable cheek.

She had come around the other side of him and directed her gaze toward his ear. Indeed, she dared a step closer and leaned asif gazing at his ear. Or, rather,inhis ear. “There. Just to the left of his memory bank and aft of his thought-grinder …”

“What do you see?” Miss Janes asked, leaning forward as if she might spy something in his ear from where she stood. He bit back a harrumph as the chaperone, too, leaned forward to peer.

He rolled his eyes at Violet. “Please, do not leave us in suspense.”

Her lips twitched at his dry plea. “Oh my, look at the sudden whirring of his thought-grinder.” She shook her head as if concerned and stepped back. “Well, no one could accuse you of not being a hard thinker, Mr. Burke. Your thought-grinder is one of the most formidable I’ve ever witnessed.”