A wall of strawberry plants stretched out before me. The aroma was lovely. Rather than focus on the awful cruelty of the estate, I ran my fingers along the plump red berries.

I had few vices. Very few. I hated sweets, but absolutely adored strawberries.

That was why I leaned in, eyes closed, drinking in the sweet scent when the crowd closed in.

Gregor was in the lead, pointing out his home when they happened upon me.

Mason was with them, Angelique firmly affixed to his arm.

While four women behind Gregor regarded me in confusion, Mason marveled, "You like strawberries?"

I stood to my full height and cleared my throat. "I—I thought perhaps they'd make for a good tart. Or a cake."

"That's a fine idea," Gregor announced. "Let's pick a few and have the cook make us something."

The women rushed past me, grabbing at each ripened strawberry. Of the four, the smarter ones took off their gloves. Two learned the hard way.

I thought to offer my advice on how to adequately pick them without damaging the stem but it was too late.

Rather than interfere, I stood back and watched.

Mason helped the others. When he was done, he hurried to me, his hands full. "I've got plenty. Would you like them?"

"Oh, that is brilliant," Angelique said, emptying hers into Mason's hands. "Hold these and I shall pick some more."

He opened his mouth to protest but gave up once she left.

I did not participate. Not because I hadn't tried, but because each time I closed in to attempt to join in, someone blocked me. It was done discreetly enough but I understood, Angelique's payback.

We made it back to the house with a sizeable bounty. The cook disappeared with it and we sat down to lunch. Part of our picked strawberries would be cooked for tea time but many of the fresh ones, washed and presented in beautiful bowls, mixed in with our lunch.

These faces were all strangers to me so I waited to be seated. I'd expected Mason to situate himself next to me but instead, he sat on the opposite side of the table. Angelique pulled her chair closer to him. He gave her one glance but didn't otherwise protest. As I feared, Gregor sat on my right.

His proximity concerned me, so I went into a defensive state. The prospect of having strawberries no longer held my interest. In fact, I abstained from even looking at them. I kept to my lunch and the moment I felt a hand on my leg, I gasped and inched further from Gregor.

My action surprised him. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," I announced far louder than necessary. "I thought I felt something fall on my leg."

All color drained from his face and we stared at one another. When it dawned on him that I was not one with which to try these games, he cleared his throat and went back to his meal.

Mason looked between us. His eyes settled on me then glanced at Angelique, who still held his arm. Finally, he ate with a sigh.

No. I hadn't expected Mason to come to my rescue. And besides, I'd already handled it, I'd thought.

I did not want to say that I doubted his sincerity, but I did want Mason to realize that his fixation with me might not be what he'd thought. Gregor was his friend, his kin, and I was an employee. A reinforcement of those lines would serve everyone well.

Once lunch ended and we gathered in the living room, Angelique made her second strike against me.

"Oh, she's their governess."

Murmurs broke out and Angelique, sitting so close to Mason on the settee, her grip on his arm firm, that she was almost in his lap, challenged me to counter her words.

I had nothing to say. She was the reason I was here. She'd got me into this situation. And now she was hellbent on burying me.

As a fight would prove disastrous for us both, I did the best thing I could...I laid down in that grave.

"Yes, I am their governess. The duchess was very kind to ask me to accompany Miss Angelique." I bowed. "I hope not to be an imposition."

"Well, what is your forte?" one woman asked. "Do you have a specialty that you teach?"

It sounded like an interview but judging from the design of her dress and the quality of her shoes, her family could never afford me.

Still, I played my part. "Oh, I teach everything."

"Everything but the piano," Angelique snickered.

I cast my eyes to her. Mason looked uncomfortable.

He leaned close to her and asked, "What are you doing?"

She answered, "Well, you said—"

"Yes, but I didn't mean for you to repeat it—"

"Well, I find it interesting. How can a governess get this far without knowing how to play the piano? Simply put, what other services does she possibly provide?"

Mason turned his body towards her completely and although I'd never witnessed a cobra eating a mouse, I feared I might get that chance.

"What exactly does that mean?" he demanded.

"Governess," Gregor called to me, "do you play the piano?"

My palms started to sweat. "I do not like the piano," I answered to a chorus of hushed chatter.

"I for one wouldn't mind hearing it all the same," Gregor insisted.

By now, my fingers were damp. I did not want to play the piano. I did not want to be put on display.

"Stop it," Mason growled. "Why do you pick on her!"

Gregor was taken aback yet again. He looked between us, a pillar of confusion. "What have I said? The woman's a governess. Typically, they know enough to teach proper etiquette and grace. Isn't it reasonable to expect her to know the basics of piano playing?"

Mason gripped the arm of the settee. "She says she doesn't want to, then leave her be."

A gracious host would allow Mason his offense but Gregor was far from gracious.

"Then why bring her?"

All air and life faded from the room.

More than anything, I wanted to stop this back and forth before it led somewhere terrible but I was too late.

Mason defended me by saying the worst thing possible.

"Her sister's married to the prince. She has nothing to prove to anyone."

This hush was far worse and I closed my eyes, praying to somehow vanish into thin air.

Angelique stammered, "Y—your sister?"

When I didn't answer, Mason cleared his throat and corrected. "Step—stepsister. Yes."

This bout of whispers was different from the rest; they held some admiration.

Gregor still wouldn't back down. "All the more reason she should have some grace if this is true."

"What do you mean if it's true?" Mason challenged. "Are you saying I'm lying?"

"You? No."

Even the women in attendance gasped.

Mason looked ready to break the settee, he gripped it so tightly.

"It's all right. I'll play us something," Angelique announced.

And she sauntered to the grand piano and sat on the grand chair, smoothing out her grand dress.

My interest went elsewhere.

In her mind, I was her competition and she was striking an important blow. In my mind this was a waste of time.

I made the mistake of glancing at Mason to find him watching me in sympathy. Perhaps he saw this as me suffering a great defeat. I made no attempt to correct him.

"Let us go horseback riding," Mason said, "so that we can enjoy the fresh spring air. Governess, you do ride, don't you?"

He knew very well that I rode. I took this to be some sort of signal of his rescue but, again, it was wholly unnecessary.

It meant something to his pride, however, so after our strawberry treats came, treats in which I did not partake, I was discreet as I stood and made my way out the door. The garden greeted me directly and my feet took me down to the strawberries yet again. I was more than a little concerned about the best course of action to take with Angelique.

Most of the morning's activities left the berries nearly picked clean. I hadn't expected much else. In fact, I did not know what I was doing here.

A hand on the small of my back set me into panic until it snaked around my waist in a grip that was familiar.

"I'm sorry," Mason said. "I—I'm so sorry. It was foolish. I don't know why I said all that."

He did it to make sure they knew he was not associating with a street urchin. That was clear even to me. So why couldn't he be upfront with himself?

I was careful to break his hold.

"Come. Let me show you something."

But I hesitated. "Won't they be looking for you?"

He ignored my words and instead took my hand and led me further into the garden. It was far bigger than I'd thought. Beyond the well-cut shrub, there was a small field. And that wasn't all.

Strawberries.

It wasn't as well kept as Gregor's manor.

"This is our land," Mason assured me. "Mother loves strawberries and we'd come often in the past. It's not terribly well cared for now but...." Hands on his waist, he beamed, "They are rather sweet."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I do not want any."

Nose raised, he said, "I spent all morning with her hanging onto me. That is not going unpaid."

This time, he took my hand and pulled me behind him as he searched.

"Why is it you didn't try to get any at the house?" Mason asked, eyes fixed on the plants. "I almost believed you didn't like them."

I found myself searching as well. "Then how did you realized I liked them?"

Mason shrugged. "I thought of me."

He gasped and hurried to little patches of red dotting the field.

"I do not understand your meaning."

Once we arrived, he crouched down then called me close. "Here are some."

There was still a good amount and he waited for me to crouch also before showing me his cheek, smug.

I looked up then pressed my lips to him, rewarding him with a kiss, and he grinned.

These strawberries were sweet, and far bigger than I'd expected.

"Explain what you mean," I begged him.

We decided to pick several before standing.

His eyes stayed focused on them as we faced one another. "For a moment, I worried that perhaps you simply did not care too much about proximity."

But then the explanation came to me and I understood. "But I was rude to Gregor?"

He stared down at the fruit in his hands then met my gaze finally. "What do you think of me? Do you like me at all?"

I blinked at him. Rarely was he ever this direct.

"Because you seemed practically in love with these until you had to fight for them at the table. At that point, you simply gave up. A part of me wants to believe I'm the same to you. I am these strawberries. Because you think you can't have me, you let go."

My breathing became shallow but I didn't know why. He was asking something impossible of me. I did not know what I felt.

"I enjoy seeing you every day," I admitted, for it was true.

He held my face, tracing the mark there as he often did. "And how do you feel when I'm close to you."

"I feel dizzy."

"Dizzy?"

"Yes. But in a good way."

When he opened his mouth, I shoved a strawberry between his lips. He took it then bit the tips of my fingers. I fed him three more before he held one to me.

I was a lady, so I took a bite. The flavors burst into my mouth. Some of the juice ran down my chin.

Mason leaned in and licked it before it fell. He was still close but I was the one who kissed him this time.

In my near twenty-one years, Mason was not my first kiss. He was, however, the first kisser I enjoyed. The way he brushed our lips together, teasing until I took the initiative was fun. And he did not try to pry my mouth open, but rather press our lips together until I became forceful. To me, he was gauging me, giving me as much as he could stand to withhold then letting go little by little when I participated as well. I found it endearing and enticing.

I especially loved when he ended the kisses by pecking my chin, then my throat.

"I'd like nothing more than to wake up beside you every day," he confessed. "Is that too much to ask for? Marry me."

My body stiffened.

The wave of panic that rushed over me came faster than any I'd ever known. He held my hands but I could not feel his touch and when our eyes met, I saw the palpable fear behind his gaze.

I said nothing, mostly because I could find no words, but also because I wanted him to think very long and hard about the foolish thing he'd just said. My gaze was steady, eyes trained on him, daring him to utter such nonsense again.

Our time together was awkward after that. There was no horseback riding as we both returned to the manor in a daze. Mason looked horrified and perhaps I did as well because all who encountered me gave me room. By now, other guests, mostly men, arrived.

There was merriment and joy but I felt sick.

My first proposal of this kind, and it was an accident. I knew it. And when he'd uttered it, he'd known it as well.

"I think I will go back early," I told Angelique who was all but too happy to see me go.

"Brilliant idea," she said. "You can take Mason's horse and he and I will ride in the carriage."

Our gazes stayed locked but I was too defeated to bother with a fight.

Perhaps Mason was mirroring my movements, afraid of what I'd say or do, I wasn't sure, but he stood closer than I'd expected.

"The hell we will."

The gruffness of his voice had nearly everyone's attention.

My hateful gaze was no ruse, it was a warning for him to stop being careless and think before he spoke again.

"Get in the carriage," he ordered.

But I turned to face him, ready to refuse. "I will take your horse."

"It doesn't have a side saddle. Get in the carriage."

Angelique looked between us then asked him, "But how will I return?"

Mason took me by the arm and told her, "You need not return," before guiding me towards our coachman.

We were to return home and someone would retrieve the horse later. I wasn't sure because Mason threw the carriage door open then put me in.

Once he climbed in as well, we were off.

Angelique.

Today's damage was insurmountable. From his feigned closeness to her then to leave with the governess in such a fashion, my reputation was at an end, I decided.

We sat across from one another, me looking out my window, Mason looking out his own.

This was my future and to someone as privileged as he, today might have looked a trifle. For me, it was a living death, one I could not endure.

"What is it you think will come of this?"

His voice was the softest I'd ever heard it. "I do not know." He sounded hurt when he said, "That was my first time proposing to a woman. Never had I seen such rage from two words."

At my silence, he turned to face me, no longer whispering.

"You do not even say no! Then say no if you don't want me. Say something. Let me know that you don't care for me. Lie if you have to."

The window no longer held my interest. I met his stare with one of my own. "We have few forgivable lies in this life, my mother's said, and I'll be saving mine for a special occasion."

Despite the size of the carriage, his wilted posture made him resemble a bull shoved into a matchbox.

I did not want to fight. I did not want to argue. And I did not want to be in this situation.

It would take weeks, months to undo this. And it made one thing clear—it was time to leave. Today, I'd officially worn out my welcome.

"You say you are strawberries to me." I hesitated but once. "When I was twelve, I was well on my way to being a proper lady. I did everything very well and I was offered any wish. I wished for a pet. Father agreed but Mother refused, saying they would smell and besides, they were childish. But after I turned thirteen, she bought me a rabbit."

Mason's scowl softened as he sat back.

"It was a black one, with white around one eye. I kept it for months. I was allowed to name it and because I did not want it to cause trouble or smell, I kept its cage extra clean. No one could argue that I was anything but the most meticulous of owners. I almost regretted keeping it caged up there, but I enjoyed holding it and whenever it got out in the house, running after it with my sister was also quite fun."

My sudden pause had him leaning forward.

"It ran away?"

"Mother killed it."

When he reclined, I did as well.

"She'd bought it, just to kill it. That she told me, and she'd bought it for me to love adequately before killing it. Because I'd never seen death and my father was dying and she did not know how to help me understand that there was a reason he was so tired all the time. And there was a reason why me asking him to help with studies or chatting his ear off was draining for him. And there was a reason why he was busy seeing to his affairs of the estate. He was dying. She knew it, and he knew it, and I refused to accept it. So she brought me death early to prepare me."

I hadn't expected a response but the fact that he had none mattered.

Rather than watch his stunned expression, I looked out the window.

"She made it into a stew."

"Stop," Mason begged. "What manner of evil is this?"

"It is not evil," I argued.

"What are you saying? It is evil. It is one thing to kill it but what is the purpose of taking it that far? It was your pet."

"It was a rabbit." I waited for him to disagree. Deep down, I wouldn't have minded a new viewpoint but he offered me nothing. "To her, people, things, animals, they all served a purpose. She never loved my father. But she was kind to him and respectful. She couldn't shed a tear when he was gone. But that meal was something else. We sat there for ages looking at it. Father was too ill to even join us at the dinner table. But she wanted me to understand that desires didn't matter. Romance didn't matter. Ideals didn't matter.

"She'd soon be a widow with two girls and life would be hard for us. I could covet anything, wish for anything, but the reality was that nothing lasted. That rabbit would have been dead in its own time; I would have still felt the same. So when you throw out these careless proposals and say things that to you have little to no impact, understand that reality is not on my side. The reality of what you did today will affect me for quite some time. So no, you are not strawberries to me, you are a rabbit. The only difference is that this time when I eat my cold, morbid dinner, there will not be even one tear soaked in it."