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“STAY AWAY FROM MY DAUGHTER,” Lord Smythe commanded.
Alistair Godstone kept his eyes on the stable floor, too afraid to look up at the man who had intimidated him all his life. Even if he did look the baron in the eye, it wasn’t going to be a fair fight. Lord Smythe was his father’s employer. And Alistair was just fourteen years old.
“Did you hear me?” Lord Smythe’s voice dropped a tone, almost threatening. “You are to stay away from my daughter.”
“Is that what Evie said to tell me, sir?” Alistair asked quietly.
The baron gave a snort, the sound remarkably similar to the noises the horses were making. “Don’t be a fool, boy. Evelyn doesn’t make the decisions around here. I do.”
“But we’re friends. We were going to spend the summer together.” He felt his heart somersault the way it always did whenever he talked about Evie. It was strange for his heart to do that when he thought of his friend, but they went to different schools and didn’t have nearly enough free time during the school year. Maybe the prospect of spending lazy summer afternoons with her could explain it.
“You will perform whatever chores your father asks of you. But this friendship is at an end. I have tolerated Evelyn socializing with the likes of you for too long,” Lord Smythe said disdainfully. “It’s time for my daughter to take her place in society. Associating with the help won’t do.”
Anger flooded him then. Followed by shame. Not for himself, but for his father. Alistair’s father was the Smythe family chauffer. Just about every member of the Godstone family going back generations had worked for the Smythes. As chambermaids, footmen, valets—there was no servant’s role at Smythe Manor that hadn’t been filled by a Godstone. His father had thought of his life of servitude as a great honor. Alistair had agreed when he was very young, but now that he was growing up he didn’t see it that way anymore. The Smythe family didn’t own them. They weren’t slaves, they were people. Being told who he could, or couldn’t, be friends with didn’t sound right to him either.
Alistair felt his mouth go dry and he swallowed hard. “But Lord Smythe, how will I explain all this to her?”
Before the baron could answer, Evelyn appeared inside the stables.
“There you are, Alistair,” she said brightly, totally oblivious to the tension between him and her father. “I didn’t realize you were already in the stables. Shall we go for a ride then?”
At thirteen, Evie was tall for her age and full of the type of energy that only a life spent outdoors could bring. She had long blonde hair, the bluest eyes, and delicate features that made her look like a doll.
Alistair’s heart did another somersault and he glanced up at Lord Smythe.
The man’s face hardened, a warning in his eyes. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he said darkly, continuing the conversation that Evelyn had no idea they were having.
“I-I can’t ride today, Evie,” Alistair said. “Sorry. I’ve got chores.”
She pouted and crossed her arms. “That’s not fair. You promised.”
“My chores are really important.”
“Are you trying to say that your chores are more important than me?” She stomped her foot. Though Evie was kind at heart, and was good to everyone no matter their station, she was still spoiled deep down. She hadn’t been taught any other way.
Alistair couldn’t blame her for that. She had been given everything in life. Ponies, seaside holidays, birthday parties in castles, a wardrobe full of clothes... all things he had no interest in. It made sense for her to think everyone ought to cater to her whims. The only person who ever said no to her was her father.
He threw another desperate glance at Lord Smythe and the man’s features softened somewhat.
“You can go with Evelyn today, as long as you’re leading her horse,” the baron said. Clearly, he didn’t want to tell Evie that he had just put an end to their friendship. Even though the baron and the rest of the Smythe family gave out orders, the one thing the nobles seemed to detest was embarrassment of any kind. Discomfort was to be avoided at all costs. And why would he take blame when he could put it on all on a thirteen- year-old boy’s shoulders?
“Make sure you are back in the manor for supper, Evelyn. And Alistair, remember what we discussed,” Lord Smythe said before spinning on his heel and walked out of the stables.
Relieved that the baron was gone, Alistair went to prepare one of the horses—a light brown one named Penelope. With her father’s agreement to spend a little time with her today, he could almost believe he had a chance to put off ending their friendship for a little while longer. At least for another few days or so. If he came up with enough excuses, he might even be able to put it off for a week. Then another. Until so much time went by that he wouldn’t have to end things at all. But he knew better. There was no defying Lord Smythe. He was going to have to end his friendship with Evie. Today.
When he was finished putting on the reins and saddle, he led the horse over to her and helped her get on. He felt very warm when their hands touched. So warm that he didn’t want to ever let go, though he had no choice when he released her hand to take hold of the reins. Keeping a tight grip on the reins, he led the horse out of the stables and started to head across the grounds towards the paddock.
“Alistair,” she said, oblivious to the fact that he wouldn’t be riding a horse today.
“Yes?”
“Do you remember the day we met?” she asked him.
“You mean when you were four years old and you chucked apples at my head to get my attention?”
“What? No. It was you who chucked the apples. I only chucked the one,” she said huffily. “And besides, that can’t be when we met.”
“Oh, yes it is,” he said. “Why do you ask anyway?”
“I was only asking because I don’t remember meeting you,” she said. “I feel like you’ve always been here. Like the house.”
“It’s a manor, Evie. Much bigger than a normal house.”
“But it’s still a house just the same,” she said.
His house was a cottage on the other side of the expansive property. It was tiny. Small enough to fit in the manor’s drawing room.
“No, it’s not,” he insisted firmly. “You live in a big manor, with servants who do whatever you say and a room of your own.” How he envied her for having her own room. He had to share a small bedroom with his younger brother. A brother who snored loudly, and jumped on the bed at mad hours in the morning.
Walking the grounds of the manor with her only emphasized that point. Overhead were oak trees that must have been around even before his own father had been born. Beyond the paddock were fruit orchards, then meadows and forests teeming with deer and foxes. The property went on as far as the eye could see, and the Smythes owned all of it.
“Alistair,” she chided. “You’re being dramatic.”
“It’s true, Evie,” he said. “You’re rich. You have everything. My family has nothing. We’re just the help.”
“Stop,” she ordered.
He didn’t need her to repeat herself to understand the command to bring the horse to a stop.
Evie dismounted quickly. She was still a kid but, like many upper-class children, she had been riding horses since before she learned how to walk.
“What’s wrong today, Alistair?” she asked, grabbing the reins from him. “Why are you talking like this? I thought we were friends.”
“We...we were friends, Evie,” he said miserably. “But we’re different from each other. I’m not like you. My dad is a driver. Your dad is a baron.”
“I don’t care about that.”
“You might not, but the world cares. We have to be realistic,” he said, averting his gaze. “It’s time for us to grow up, don’t you think?”
“Grow up?” Evie’s face changed, her expression becoming sad as her eyes started to swim with tears. Her lower lip trembled. “Is it something I’ve done? Because if it is I’m sorry, Alistair. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to chuck the apples.”
“It’s not the apples, Evie.” He sighed, a heavy pain settling in his chest, and no amount of deep breaths was going to make it go away.
“What is it then?” She folded her arms and stared down at the ground, her shoulders heaving. “You said we were friends. That means you think we aren’t friends anymore. Why aren’t we friends?”
“I told you. We’re different.”
“That isn’t why.” She paused and lifted her gaze to him. Though her eyes were shining, the tears hadn’t fallen yet. “Did my father say something to hurt you? Before he walked out of the stable, he said you discussed something.”
He nodded reluctantly. If he didn’t tell the truth, she would probably keep pushing until she got her way. At least with the truth out, Evie would start to accept it. “He says it’s better this way. For both of us.”
“This isn’t fair.” She suddenly burst into tears and flung her arms around him.
Alistair’s eyes went wide with surprise as she held him. He had never hugged Evie before. Mostly because she was his friend, and he had never hugged his other friends. All of his other friends were boys. Evie was the only friend of his who was a girl. His only girl friend. No. That wasn’t right. She was just his friend. That was all. His stomach somersaulting meant nothing.
“You can’t listen to him. Please. We have to keep being friends,” she continued between sobs.
His arms were still at his sides. He was too anxious about the sudden hug to know what to do with his arms. “Why? You’ll only make your father angry. And you know how he is when he’s angry.”
They had both seen Lord Smythe lose his temper with servants. It was rare, but it had happened. His face usually turned beet red and his arms would flap about as he shouted.
“Because you’re the only one who wants to be friends with me. Not because you have to.” She released him to look him in the eye. Her face was streaked with tears. “All my friends at school are only friends with me because their parents made them. Their parents are lords and ladies like my parents, so we have to be friends. We only ever do things because our parents make us.”
“We’re kids. We’re supposed to do what our parents tell us,” he said with a shrug.
“It’s not fair.” Evie wiped her tears. Her cheeks were pink and her lovely blonde hair suddenly caught the sunlight, turning an even more brilliant gold.
He was suddenly mesmerized by how pretty she was. Even when she was crying. “We don’t have to tell your parents,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.
She sniffled. “What?”
“We can be friends,” he said, his mind thinking fast.
“We can?” she asked excitedly.
“Yes. But we can’t tell your dad. We’ll have to meet in secret.”
“Secret?” she asked in a conspiratorial tone. “We can send each other coded messages to meet. And have codenames that only we know.”
Trust her to turn this into a game. Nothing was ever serious for her, because it didn’t have to be. Evie was a baron’s daughter. She had never had to worry about anything. Not her future. Nor how her parents would be treated.
But the way she treated everything like the most fun thing in the world was why he liked being friends with her so much. It was difficult to be sad for too long with her around. He was the serious one, and she was the one who treated everything like a lark. They each had their roles in their friendship, and he rather liked it that way.
He smiled. “All right. But you can’t tell anybody. If your father finds out, we’ll be in big trouble.” The thought of making Lord Smythe angry made him feel very queasy. It wasn’t Evie who he would blame.
Evie started clapping her hands happily, and then she leaned forward to put her lips on his cheek.
Alistair felt his face burn so hot he thought he might explode. She had never done that before. First the hug, now a kiss. What on earth was happening?
“Evelyn! What the devil do you think you are doing?”
The sound of Lord Smythe’s angry shout made them both jump back. It seemed to agitate the horse as well, and the Penelope reared up on her hind legs before she bolted.
Evie shrieked in surprise. She was still holding the reins, and as the horse sped off the creature dragged her with it.
Alistair reached out, desperate to grab hold of her, but the animal dragged her off her feet, sending her tumbling hard onto the ground. With a cry of pain Evie released the reins. The horse kept racing off in the direction of the paddock.
As Alistair rushed up to her, Lord Smythe shoved him aside and crouched down beside his daughter. “Evelyn, are you hurt?” The baron looked up and glared at Alistair, hatred burning in his blue eyes. “You fool! Look at what you’ve done.”
“W-What I’ve done?” Alistair choked out. “But I haven’t done anything.”
“That’s it precisely,” the baron said sharply, his teeth bared. “You haven’t done anything. Haven’t put an end to this friendship like I asked. Didn’t save Evie from the horse dragging her off.”
“Daddy, it’s not his fault,” Evie insisted as she struggled to sit up. “Ow!” she cried, and then clutched her arm.
“Don’t move!” her father demanded. “It might be broken.”
“I think it’s twisted,” she said with a grimace.
“You, boy.” Lord Smythe looked up at Alistair. “Fetch the doctor immediately. The butler will know how to contact him.”
“Yes sir,” he said, already turning to go.
“After that, find the bloody horse so we can sell the damn thing.”
“Yes, s—”
“Daddy, no!” Evie pleaded.
“It’s that or we put it down,” her father said coldly. “Can’t have an animal that’s skittish around here.”
Evie burst into tears again. “Daddy, please. I was going to spend all summer with Penelope. Me and Alistair were.”
“No, you’re not,” her father said grimly. “As soon as the doctor says you’re okay, you’ll be going to Switzerland. You can spend the summer there and then start school in the autumn. Why wait until September?”
Alistair felt his heart sink. He should already be running to fetch the doctor, but his feet seemed frozen in place. “School?”
“That’s right,” Lord Smythe said with the barest hint of a triumphant smile. “Thought you could outsmart me, eh boy? But you can’t. Evelyn is going to boarding school in Switzerland, whether you like it or not.”
Evie started to sob in earnest, but her father didn’t seem to notice as he scooped her up in his arms. “Get a move on,” Lord Smythe continued, glowering at Alistair. “Doctor. Then horse.”
With that, the baron started to march in the direction of the manor with Evelyn crying in his arms.
Alistair wanted to call out. To tell Lord Smythe what a mistake he was making. That he wasn’t ready to be separated from his friend. But as the baron’s figure retreated into the manor, Alistair knew he would never see Evie again.
