“Very well, I’ll leave Joseph to you. Is that everyone, then?” Arabel ticked off the names on her fingers. “Lord and Lady Trentingham, the viscount, Creath, and then you, me, and Matthew.”
Arabel was easy, since Chrystabel knew exactly which of her gowns—the marigold silk satin embroidered with golden swirls—her younger sister most coveted. She had only to wrap it up for her. “I still need something for Matthew.”
“What can you possibly give Matthew that you didn’t bring along? He owns everything we have with us.”
“I’ll think of something.” Sighing, Chrystabel stepped back into her red-rosetted shoes and pulled another wreath off the stack. “I always do.”
TWELVE
“WAIT.” STANDING in Tremayne’s entry hall, Chrystabel tucked a strand of Creath’s bright reddish-blond hair back under her dull brown cavalier hat. Or rather, under Matthew’s dull brown cavalier hat. “There. You’re perfect.”
Creath smoothed her palms on the brown breeches Chrystabel had borrowed for her. “Do you really think I look like a lad?”
“From afar, you certainly do. And if someone looks closer, they’ll see the rest of us are strangers to the area, so they’ll have no reason to suspect you’re one of the party. Besides, we won’t be straying from Tremayne property—Lady Trentingham has assured me we’ll be able to find a perfect yule log in their woods. Let’s go.”
Watkins opened the door with a bow, and Chrystabel stepped into the chilly fresh air. It was beautiful outside. Sunshine sparkled off the light dusting of snow in the inner courtyard, and the sky was a pure blue.
She’d been so cold when they’d arrived that she hadn’t paid any attention to the layout of the castle—she’d just wanted to get inside. Now she saw the courtyard was bordered by three long connected buildings that formed a U-shape. The gatehouse with its portcullis was in the middle of the center building, with the upper floors spanning the area above it. She could tell which wing her family’s rooms were in and figured the Ashcrofts must sleep in the third wing. The obviously unfinished portion of the castle would be where Joseph’s conservatory was located.
The far end of the courtyard was open to the fields and woods. She headed toward the trees, her siblings following.
“Hold on,” Creath called from where she still stood in the entry. “Since Arabel is coming along, shouldn’t we invite Joseph, too?”
“No.” Chrystabel turned back. “If he’s with us and anyone sees us, they might connect you with him.”
“But you said we’re staying on Tremayne property. And that I look like a boy from afar.”
Chrystabel sighed. “Very well, I’ll ask him.” Before the girl could say she’d ask him herself, she hurried back inside.
Not really knowing where she was going but wanting to look like she did, she headed into the third wing, following the path she’d seen Joseph and his parents take last night when they went off to bed. Once she was hidden around a corner, she waited a minute, then another minute, and a third minute to be safe. Then she turned and retraced her steps.
“Joseph is busy,” she told Creath. “Working with his father. Let’s go.”
“All right,” Creath said, apparently happy enough to go without him as long as he’d been invited.
Chrystabel celebrated silently, glad her ploy had worked. She had a sneaking suspicion that Creath and Matthew wouldn’t fall in love with Joseph watching over their shoulders. Well, more than a sneaking suspicion, really. She was sure of it.
Joseph was far too protective of Creath.
Lifting her pretty red skirts to keep them from dragging in the snow, Chrystabel kept up a stream of happy chatter as they all tramped through the courtyard, across a field, and into the woods.
“Which is the widest tree trunk?” she asked. “Which will make the best yule log? We want it to burn through tomorrow at least.”
“We didn’t bring a saw,” Matthew pointed out. “How on earth do you expect to cut a yule log?”
“Ladies don’t saw down trees,” she shot back. “And I don’t suppose you’d like to manage it alone? We’ll choose a tree and then go fetch a few brawny servants to cut it and haul the log back.” She shivered theatrically. “My, it’s cold, isn’t it? Much colder than I expected.”
Her eye catching Matthew’s, Creath flushed and huddled into her borrowed brown cloak. “I’m warm enough.”
“Well, I’m not.” Chrystabel faked another shiver, hoping she was giving a more convincing performance than Arabel had yesterday. “Why didn’t I choose my heavier cloak? I believe I shall return to the castle for it.” She looked to her sister. “Arabel, would you be so good to as to accompany me?”
“I’d rather not—”
“Thank you, sister,” she said, seizing her by the arm. “I’ll feel much safer with a companion.”
“My pleasure,” Arabel said without grumbling, because she truly was quite a kind sister. And she never grumbled.
“You two go on searching without us,” Chrystabel called to Matthew and Creath as she dragged Arabel off. “We won’t be gone long!”
“You’re not shivering anymore,” Arabel pointed out when they were well on their way. “And it’s not especially cold, not like it’s been these past few days. Are you sure you want to walk all the way back and then all the way out here again?”
“Yes, I’m sure I want to walk all the way back. After that, I think I will decide I’m exceedingly busy.” Which was true; they were still behind schedule.
Arabel stopped in her tracks. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I’m not going back out there.” Chrystabel tugged on her sister’s arm again to get her moving. There was no time to waste. “I mean I intend to leave Matthew and Creath alone in the woods so they will fall in love.”
“You’re out of your mind, Chrys. I swear, you’d feel right at home in Bedlam!” When Chrystabel walked faster, Arabel struggled to keep up with her.
