Page 48

He nodded, and they left Evie and Ari to bicker over the proper technique for throwing the rings. “Have you tried the pepper cake? It’s something very particular to Yorkshire.” And he loved it.

“Yes, it’s one of my favorites,” she said. They exchanged their tickets for a cup of mulled wine and pepper cake.

Pippy took a bite of soft, dense cake, and Freddie waited so he could see her reaction. “Oh,” she said, taking a drink of her wine. “It’s much heartier than the pepper cake I’m used to.” She looked closer. “We have Westmorland Pepper Cake. It’s spicier, but also sweeter? I’m uncertain how that is achieved, but”—she lifted her cake—“this is also very good.”

Freddie took a bite of his cake and his mouth warmed, but not unfavorably. He closed his eyes for a moment. It reminded him of his childhood, when his mother would bring them to Yorkshire to visit.

A whoop went up from the ring toss, and Ari turned toward them, a pink ribbon hanging from her fingers.

“How many tickets do you suppose she used to win that ribbon?” Freddie asked wryly.

“I’m certain the price was far greater than if she’d just gone to the milliners.” Pippy smiled fondly at his sisters.

A different kind of warmth spread through his chest. “Yes, I’m certain you’re correct.”

“But as you said, it’s for a good cause.” They walked along the path between booths.

When their cake was gone, they crumpled up the small parchment paper and returned their cups.

“Pippy, Freddie,” Ari and Evie called. “We want to do the cheese roll now.”

Freddie lifted his brows. “Have you used all your ring toss tickets already?”

Ari shook her head. “No, but my arm needs a rest. I shall try again in a little while.”

“How many colors did you win?” he asked, trying to hide his amusement.

She scowled. “Only the one. I do not know what’s wrong with me today.”

“Perhaps you are too invested in the prize. Maybe if you approach it with less…greed, you’ll have more luck.” He looked straight ahead, knowing there would be protestations.

“I’m not greedy,” she muttered. “But perhaps you are correct. I’ll try to focus less on the prize.”

They reached the booth hosting the cheese rolling.

“There is no hill?” Pippy said, looking around them. “What do we roll the cheese down?”

“The rules are a little unusual at this fete. Rather than rolling the cheese down a hill, it’s more a competition of distance. Who can roll their cheese the farthest.”

“Do you still win the cheese?” Pippy asked.

“Indeed.” Freddie gave her a look like she was mad. “How could you have a cheese roll and not win a cheese? This is not America.”

She looked at him strangely. “Do they not give cheese as a prize in America?”

He did not know if they even did cheese rolls in America. “I can’t imagine they do,” he said, with all the pity he could muster. “Perhaps there are no hills. Or maybe they lost that right in the revolution. One can’t know for certain.”

She gave him an odd look, but she smiled, so perhaps she didn’t think him completely daft.

They pushed their tickets across the narrow wooden counter of the booth and each received their wheel of cheese. “The one who rolls it the farthest wins,” the man said in a dull tone. He didn’t seem as enthusiastic about the competition as they were.

“And the loser must present the winner with a kiss,” Lady Dalmeer called from behind.

Freddie and Pippy turned around. “I’ve never heard that rule before, Aunt,” Freddie said, crossing his arms.

“Ah.” She shrugged. “Any cheese roll worth doing has such a prize.”

“I thought the cheese was the prize,” Pippy said.