the lake’s edge and the putrid stink that assaulted me with every breeze. The lake had all the appearance of life, but just beneath the surface all that really existed was death.
How long would it take for the path to disappear completely when no one walked it? How long before the scars of something I loved disappeared once it was drained? I reached up to tear a leaf from a tree, then let my hand drop away empty. It was better just to leave it be and move on.
When I reached the rocky shore, a spot of white on the boulder caught my attention. A white rose about to bloom lay alone in the sun. I glanced around, but there was no one near. Retrieving it, I brought it to my nose, smelling its freshness and life. Perhaps Daniel had left it for Louisa.
She wouldn’t find it. She was busy planning a ball and a wedding and wouldn’t have time for a morning walk. I determined to take it back to him, so he could give it to her properly.
I climbed onto the boulder and walked to the edge. The lake’s surface was unusually still even with the breeze. Did it know it was about to disappear? Did a lake sense its own death?
Lying on my stomach, I reached down and brushed the surface with my finger, sending ripples off across the water. When the surface calmed enough for my reflection to stare back at me, I thought of all the time I had spent out here, all the memories this place held. I even allowed myself to remember Lord Williams in the water, asking me to help him out of his coat. And now I had to go face him, one last time.
For the last time, I sat up and stared across the lake, surveying the scene around me, soaking up as much of it as I could, knowing it would forever be altered and I was powerless to stop it.
Men’s voices sounded in the distance.
It was time.
I could be strong one last time.
My steps slowed as I neared the place Daniel had said to meet him. Tenants were already at work, digging away at a piece of the shoreline. Daniel stood nearby, watching. And next to him, his back to me, stood Lord Williams.
He was wearing a blue coat. Did he know it was his best color? Had he worn it to purposefully torment me?
If I didn’t look at him, I wouldn’t be tormented. I shouldn’t be tormented anyway. I was business. A wager.
I stepped to Daniel’s other side. “How goes the work?”
Lord Williams glanced at me, but I focused on the men digging.
“Right on schedule,” Daniel answered. “Once they breach the shore, the water will flow down that trench until the whole lake is drained.”
Lord Williams hadn’t moved, his gaze still resting on me. It took everything I had not to glance up at him. “Won’t that take some time?” The trench was tiny, only two feet across and maybe three feet deep.
“Days, probably,” Gregory said, his voice soft and low, and I realized it was foolish to call him anything but Gregory. He would always be Gregory to me. “The breaching won’t be long now.” There was a pause. “Will you stay to watch it?”
“For a while. Daniel, Louisa won’t find this. You should give it to her directly.” I held out the rose.
“That isn’t mine.”
“You didn’t leave a rose for Louisa on the rock?”
He frowned. “Why would I do that?”
“Because it’s what you’re supposed to do. Flowers, gifts—” I stopped myself, but the unsaid word hung in the air. Kisses.
Daniel shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
It didn’t matter. “Maybe she left it for you.” I thrust it at him. He took it uncertainly. “What will happen when the water is fully gone?” I asked.
Again Gregory answered. “This land should be quite fertile.” Did he know how his voice called to me, how my body wanted to respond by moving closer?
“Yes,” Daniel said. “Once it’s dry, we’ll plow it under. Come spring, it should be covered with green shoots.”
Another place to farm. Another spot of land from which our tenants could live. “I hope it yields well.”
One of the men gave a shout. Water streamed and glistened along the trench, charging toward us, then dashing past us. I turned to the lake. It looked the same. There was no indicator that its very essence was draining away. Yet the water raced along, gurgling as