His gaze slid to Alexandra and back before he answered. "There's really not much to see."
"We could bring a picnic!" Corinna gestured outside the bright windows. "It's a beautiful day."
"Yes, please." Juliana turned to Griffin. "We haven't picnicked in months. As a matter of fact"—she paused for effect—"we haven't done anything at all as a family in months."
Juliana sounded so sincere, Alexandra wondered if perhaps she truly did want to picnic, as opposed to using the request as a ploy to get her and Tris together for an afternoon.
But on second thought, both her sisters looked entirely too animated and expectant. It was definitely a ploy.
A ploy their brother was falling for.
"Perhaps we could picnic," he said, looking to Tris.
Tris raked a hand through his hair, messing it up as usual. "I was planning a quick ride out, a quick look, and a quick ride back." A picnic would mean a carriage, considering they'd have to bring baskets and blankets and other assorted paraphernalia. None of which brought to mind the word quick. "I was hoping to get home before dinner."
"You could have dinner back here before you leave." The look Griffin shot his friend was a mixture of pleading and apologetic. "The days are long this time of year, so you'll still have sunlight should you ride home later." When Tris shrugged, Griffin turned to Alexandra. "What do you think?"
Her poor, misguided brother was just trying to make his sisters happy. Which meant there was no way she could get out of this without looking like a cantankerous crab, even though agreeing would mean hours shut up in a carriage with Tris.
Well, at least they wouldn't be alone, she told herself, forcing a smile to curve her lips. "Why, I think it sounds delightful."
"Mesdemoiselles." Madame Rodale cleared her throat and held up a large scrapbook filled with fashion plates. "You have yet to select your designs."
Griffin strode over and took the book from her hands. "They can choose during the drive. You won't mind, will you?" He smiled, turning on the charm. "If you'll but wait a few hours, I promise I'll make it worth your while."
Madame, who was old enough to be his mother, blushed to the roots of her graying hair. "Very well," she murmured, forgetting her fake French accent.
Griffin's charm could be lethal. No wonder he had so many friends.
"It's all settled, then." He turned his smile on the rest of them. "Girls, you have half an hour to wheedle a picnic lunch out of François and change your clothes should your feminine sensibilities require that. What does one wear to a picnic? A carriage dress? A walking dress?"
"A garden dress," Alexandra informed him, forgiving him his masculine ignorance.
When he was nice like this, she wanted to kick herself for telling him he should leave.
TWELVE
"THAT WAS delicious." In the shade of a large elm atop a rise overlooking the grapevine-covered slope, Tristan leaned back on his elbows, stretching his legs out on the red blanket Griffin's sisters had packed along with the picnic lunch. He glanced into the empty basket and feigned good-natured surprise. "What, no famous Chase sweets to complete the meal?"
Sitting across from him, Corinna finished her last bite of cheese. "Griffin didn't give us enough time."
"Don't go blaming me," Griffin protested. "As though you, of all people, would volunteer to spend hours in the kitchen."
"My talents don't lie there." She put her dainty nose into the air. "A Lady of Distinction said that whatever is worthwhile to do, is worthwhile to do well."
"She was talking about dancing," Juliana said with a roll of her eyes. She looked to Tristan. "May we see the pump now, please?"
"Certainly, at least what little there is to see of it." He rose to his feet and stretched, gazing down to where Alexandra had her own dainty nose buried in Madame Rodale's book of fashion plates.
She'd barely looked up to eat; in fact, she hadn't looked up at all during the long drive out here in the carriage. She'd positioned herself safely between her sisters and kept her eyes on the scrapbook, discussing each engraving in such detail it had made him want to scream.
While it was true he'd done his best to avoid finding himself alone with her, there was no reason for them to ignore each other in company. Once, years ago, he'd considered Alexandra a friend, one of few girls he could relate to as a person as well as a female. Perhaps she hadn't seen it that way—she seemed to think he hadn't noticed her when they were young. But he'd always watched her, and listened, and responded—in a completely appropriate, respectful way, of course. And he'd thought of her as a friend.
Though they'd never be together in the way his body craved, he wanted that friend back.
He leaned down and shut the book. "Are you coming along?"
She looked up, startled.
"We're leaving to see the pump," he elaborated, his face still close to hers.
"Oh." Her pupils grew large and dark in her brandy-brown eyes. Clearly flustered, she glanced around him as if noticing for the first time that everyone else was standing. Her sisters were donning their hats. "Oh, yes. Of course I'm coming along."
"Excellent," he said, straightening and offering a hand to help her up.
She hesitated before putting hers into it, and when she did, he thought he felt a tremble run through her. He knew for a fact that something disturbing hit him—right in the gut. Thankfully, the contact was brief.
It was a good thing he was leaving tonight.
The walk from the vineyard to the river was pleasant in the sunshine. Alexandra hurried ahead to join her sisters. From Tristan's vantage point behind them, the three women were a study in contrasts. By far the shortest, Juliana walked in the middle, flanked by her taller siblings. Juliana's straight, dark blond hair was swept up in a flawless style, Corinna's
