Chapter 23
His palm radiated an unexpected heat, a sharp contrast to the biting winter air.
“Is the sight of me truly that delightful?”
Dernick offered a radiant grin as he helped Classie regain her footing.
The timing felt suspiciously perfect. Still slightly dazed, Classie peered up at him before a seed of doubt took root. She glanced toward her companion, wondering if Florence had orchestrated this entire excursion simply to engineer a run-in with Dernick.
“A friend of yours?”
Upon his inquiry, Florence donned a smile brimming with hidden curiosity. She reached out, eager to introduce herself.
“I am Florence, the wife of Viscount Heimer.”
Legally, the title of Viscount had been abolished, yet it remained common practice for the successors of noble houses to adopt such designations once they wed and formed their own households. It served as a subtle declaration of their future inheritance while marking their independence from their parents’ shadow. Furthermore, since those holding territorial peerages could not use this specific phrasing, it functioned as a quiet way for family-titled nobility to elevate themselves.
Florence usually mocked such pretentious customs and had never used the title before. Her sudden shift in behavior made it clear she was fishing for information, desperate to uncover Dernick’s lineage and social standing.
Classie felt a flush of heat rise to her cheeks. She was desperate to hiss at Florence that this man was nothing more than a passing acquaintance and to stop jumping to conclusions.
“Understood,” Dernick replied simply.
He did not behave like a typical aristocrat. Usually, when someone presented their status so clearly, social etiquette dictated a reciprocal introduction. It was a matter of courtesy rather than law. Yet Dernick merely smiled and accepted her hand in a greeting, leaving his own identity a mystery. This only served to heighten Florence’s scrutiny.
“Are you a companion of Classie’s as well?”
Unable to endure the interrogation any longer, Classie cut in.
“Hardly. Our meeting was entirely accidental.”
She shot Florence a look meant to signal that her friend was reading too much into the situation, which only caused Florence’s expression to slump with disappointment.
“Really? I was under the impression we were on friendly terms,” Dernick added, intentionally stoking the embers of Florence’s interest.
Florence pressed her gloved hand to her lips, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“My, the two of you seem to have very different perspectives. What exactly is the nature of your bond if your accounts don’t align?”
“There is nothing significant between us,” Classie insisted. “He simply happens to be an acquaintance of Merran’s.”
“An acquaintance of Merran’s? That is a rather vague way to put it.”
Classie felt a sudden impulse to shove Dernick out of sight. Any gratitude she felt for his earlier assistance evaporated instantly. She took Florence’s hand, addressing Dernick with a cold, formal distance.
“I appreciate your aid. However, I am here to enjoy a quiet outing with my friend, and your presence, Sir Dernick, is becoming a distraction. We shall take our leave.”
Attempting to establish a firm boundary, Classie gripped Florence’s arm and turned to walk away. But the earlier near-miss seemed to have taken a toll; without warning, her strength failed her.
As her balance gave way, Classie instinctively released Florence. She refused to pull her friend down onto the frozen surface with her. But as she began to tip over, both Florence and Dernick reached out simultaneously, each catching an arm to steady her.
“Are you hurt? Is it your leg acting up again?”
Florence was well aware of Classie’s physical struggles. She sighed as she braced her friend’s weight.
“I am fine,” Classie snapped, wanting to prevent Florence from spiraling into guilt. Florence was the only person brave enough to take Classie out despite her unreliable health. While Merran often criticized Florence for being reckless, Classie found her friend’s lack of fuss endearing.
“I’ll fetch your walking stick from my carriage,” Florence said. She always made sure to keep Classie’s cane nearby.
Classie gave a small, distracted nod, trying her best to ignore Dernick. Florence, however, looked directly at him.
“Our coach is the white one at the far end of the lake. My maid is right there having some coffee. Would you mind asking her to bring the cane over?”
Dernick nodded readily. “She won’t be able to continue on the ice anyway. It would be more efficient if I simply carried Lady Classie to the vehicle.”
“That is a much better plan,” Florence agreed instantly.
“…If you must,” Classie muttered, reluctantly accepting his support.
Dernick gave a sharp, cheerful whistle and swept her up into his arms without a second thought. As the tall man paraded across the ice carrying the young noblewoman, every skater nearby paused to stare. Mortified, Classie pulled off her gloves and pressed them over her eyes to hide. Dernick let out a boisterous laugh.
“Does shielding your eyes make you feel more courageous, Lady Classie?”
“I don’t feel brave at all,” she whispered. “But at least I don’t have to see them looking at me.”
Dernick’s chest rumbled with laughter. “You are more eccentric than you look. Don’t most ladies usually bury their faces in a man’s chest when this happens?”
“We aren’t on such intimate terms!”
“Perhaps, but it would look far more natural than hiding behind your gloves.”
In response, Classie used her second glove to cover her mouth as well.
This sent Dernick into such a fit of laughter that he nearly lost his footing on the slick ice. Classie gripped his shoulder hard in a panic.
“Focus on where you are walking!” she barked, though his shoulders continued to shake.
She decided that silence was her best defense. If he kept laughing, they were both going to end up in a heap on the ground. However, her curiosity eventually won out. She moved one glove just enough to peek at their surroundings.
She had intended to locate Florence, but she found herself staring directly into Dernick’s grey eyes. The silver sheen in his gaze triggered a sudden, vivid memory of a boy from a decade prior.
She hadn’t seen the resemblance before because the hair and eye colors were mismatched, but at this proximity, the shape of his eyes was unmistakable. Of course, that boy had been frail and small, nothing like the broad-shouldered man holding her now. And truthfully, the boy had been far more handsome.
“Why the intense stare? Have you realized I’m even more charming up close?”
Furthermore, that boy hadn’t possessed such a cunning, slippery temperament. Classie offered no reply, simply returning the gloves to her face.
Dernick stopped his teasing after that, and the rest of the journey passed in silence. When they finally reached the carriage, Classie felt herself being hoisted upward. She peeked out to see him sliding her into the seat as if she were a piece of luggage.
Florence climbed in after her, helping her get settled and tucking a warm quilt around her legs. She then removed Classie’s skates and passed them to an attendant.
“I ruined your afternoon of fun. I’m sorry,” Classie murmured softly.
Florence gave her a playful flick on the forehead. “Don’t start that. If you apologize, then I’ll feel like I’ve done something wrong too.”
“Fine. Oh—what about my shoes?”
“Good heavens! I forgot them back at the rental station,” Florence realized.
The peaceful moment vanished the second they looked back at the door. Dernick was already approaching, moving with long, easy strides. In each hand, he dangled one of Classie’s shoes.
Classie’s face burned with fresh embarrassment. She wondered why this man was constantly in possession of her footwear.
“It seems your shoes and I share a peculiar destiny,” he joked, setting the pair down on the carriage floor.
Florence’s eyes narrowed with renewed suspicion. Classie nudged her friend’s side and quickly tried to end the encounter.
“Thank you for your assistance today. I shall ensure a token of my gratitude reaches you through Merran.”
She had calculated this move carefully. Merran had expressed an interest in the man; by using her niece as a middleman, Classie could facilitate another meeting for them. It seemed like a perfect solution.
Dernick, however, looked unimpressed. “How strange. You receive the help, yet Mary’s daughter offers the thanks?”
“The gratitude is mine,” Classie clarified. “Merran is simply the messenger.”
“Why bother with all that? You could deliver it yourself. Or, better yet, I could visit you.”
“What a transparent tactic,” Florence interjected, her voice sharp. “Are you trying to turn Lady Mary’s daughter into your personal servant?”
Florence was clearly reaching her breaking point with the mystery of their relationship. Her curiosity finally boiled over into a command.
“Neither of you is making any sense. Here is what we are going to do: everyone is coming back to my estate. Right now. I have clothes that will fit Classie so she can change, and this… gentleman can take a break from the cold. My chef will have a hot meal ready, and we can discuss this over coffee. Does that sound acceptable?”
Classie opened her mouth to object, but Florence gripped her hand with iron strength. Before another word could be uttered, Dernick climbed into the carriage and sat down, flashing Classie a wide, triumphant smile.
“Splendid,” he said. “I was beginning to freeze out there anyway.”
