Dahlia had tried to keep the pleased tone out of her voice when she had mentioned she had some news—after all, she didn’t want to rub it in if Brice was disappointed. Plus, it was not very ladylike to be boastful. She was supposed to be demure and accept compliments and accomplishments with quiet grace, not obvious excitement. So, she tried to keep her statement neutral, even though she was just bursting to say something; apparently she did an excellent job of masking her pride. She had nudged his leg with her ankle a little to make sure she had his attention, but when he looked up at her, he looked absolutely stricken. She knew that Brice had a tendency to overthink things and worry, but she really had no idea how far that tendency actually extended. If Dahlia ever got inside his mind, she would be horrified at all the worry he kept cluttered around the place, and she would insist he have a clean out and streamline his organizational system. Only take out one worry at a time, and put it back in its box before taking out a different one. Obviously. This business with having a million worries all over the floor to trip over was more than she could handle; chaos was not meant to be let alone to prosper, it was meant to be organized.

“Oh, Brice,” she complained, her arms shooting out to the sides to steady herself in the suddenly rocking boat. Her eyebrow rose a little as she watched him struggle with his jacket. Surely he couldn’t be that hot; he had been rowing only a few minutes… if he was sweaty already, it looked like they’d spend most of the afternoon drifting. Of course, she was well aware that he overheated easily; the incident at the Halloween Masquerade last year was pretty fresh in her mind. She certainly hoped he was not going to faint now. The idea of trying to fish him out of the river was not one she really relished, as she was sure it would end with both of them sopping wet and half drowned.

“I-I-I know, I’m sorry.”

“That’s all right, darling,” she said, softening somewhat at the apparent anguish in his voice. He always took things so hard. She sighed a little; he was so sensitive. The boat was not rocking as much now, and she reached for his hand over the oars between them.

“I’ve been…ah…treating you horribly. I-I know…you’re a lady. I never meant…I mean…I meant to…but there...there wasn’t any disrespect intended.”

“Er… what?”

“I just…it’s because…I mean…I know it’s been a while now. You didn’t seem upset…. I never wanted to upset you, never. I think I’d rather drown.”

Dahlia had no idea what he was going on about, and she looked at him blankly. “Brice. What are you talking about? I’m not upset.” She squeezed his hand. “What do you think I’m going to tell you?” she asked, suspiciously. Now she was a little curious as to what he was apologizing for and if she might not have been a little hasty in proclaiming herself not upset. Maybe she should be upset. What had he done that he thought would upset her? Oh, who was she kidding? This was Brice. Whatever he had done, it couldn’t have been very bad. Otherwise, he would have been sweating and stuttering and confessing about ten minutes after he had done… whatever it was. Ten minutes ago, they had been running through the countryside. What could he have done then?

“Brice. Brice.” She twined her fingers through his and brushed her hair over her shoulder with her other hand. “I don’t know what you’re thinking of, but I’m not trying to tell you something upsetting. I got my Hogwarts letter this week.” The corners of her lips curved upward very slightly, even though she was still trying to rein in her excitement. After all, it was something of an honor to be chosen; the faculty of the school had faith in her ability to handle responsibility and pressure. Whether or not she would live up to that faith remained to be seen, but she was proud that she got the opportunity. “Guess what.”