The men remove their boots and socks before suggesting a swim. When it’s clear that I’m not going to give in to their relentless begging, the trio races toward the shore, their laughter getting lost in the sounds of merriment around me.

Butterflies flutter their painted wings as they land on the few wildflowers not stamped down by eager feet or blankets. This would be a peaceful setting if it weren’t for all the screaming. Despite the warmth in the air, I imagine the water is still quite chilly.

From the looks of the stream feeding into the far side, it must run straight off the mountain. I know first-hand how frigid a mountain stream can be.

Thinking of the mountains brings an ache to my chest. I wonder how Father is faring without my brother and me. Perhaps I will write to him when we get back to the cottage.

Nia’s screech pierces the serenity, followed by her laughter as Ronan and Nolan chase and splash her in the shallows. A woman with canary-yellow hair in a peony-pink swimming costume races down the shore to join them. Ivee Lynch.

I never thought I’d be happy to see the woman, but here I am, smiling because her presence means the prince will be entertained, leaving me to enjoy the day on my own.

This could be my life if I find a husband in Rosehill, spending long, sun-drenched hours lounging by a beautiful lake with my cousin and her man.

Has Trevor ever been here? I should stop by the library when we get back to see if he’d like to accompany me on his next day off. Assuming he’s still interested in continuing our courtship. Although to be honest, I don’t really care either way.

When did I become so apathetic?

Perhaps Nia and I should go for drinks somewhere besides The Black Rose so that I might meet some different suitors. With my birthday drawing ever closer, there is no time to waste.

Sweat tumbles down my brow and spine. It feels like I sprung a leak. When no amount of fanning myself seems to work, I push to my feet and meander through the blankets toward the water. I have to peel my shift from my thighs and puff my skirts to get some air flowing.

Hoping to avoid getting soaked by the relentless splashing on the shore, I climb the steps to the dock instead.

As much as I want to remove my slippers and stockings like everyone else, I keep both on. Instead, I dip my hands into the water and press them to my damp brow and the back of my neck beneath my braid.