Amelia closed her eyes and let the warm sun touch her face. The rain from earlier in the week was gone, and the air felt fresh and pleasant. She wanted to enjoy it as much as she could.
"I promise you, Rosé," she said as she walked toward the trees, "he was the most fascinating person I've ever seen."
Rosé folded her arms. She was about fifteen years older than Amelia and had been brought from the West Indies by Amelia's father. Even though she was beautiful, none of her skin showed now. She wore heavy clothes, gloves, and a long veil to protect herself.
"Fascinating?" Rosé said with a snort. "You're lucky he didn't do worse. The coachman told me you even gave him your name. What were you thinking? You never know when to stop."
"Look, bees!" Amelia pointed excitedly at a group hanging from a tree branch. "You're so old-fashioned. This is the eighteenth century people are discovering new things every day. Aren't you curious about how someone like that lives? I wonder why a man becomes a bandit."
Rosé grabbed her arm. "A man like that lives dangerously. There's darkness in this world, and you don't understand it. Stay away from it."
Amelia smiled. "I'm not some weak girl. You know I'm braver than most."
"I know you're stubborn," Rosé replied. "And you wouldn't be this spoiled if someone else had raised you."
Amelia frowned. "You're not angry with me, are you? I didn't do anything wrong. I just thought he was interesting."
Rosé shook her head as they walked. "Every time something interests you, trouble follows. This isn't like your silly experiments. This is a dangerous man. Be thankful he only took your necklace."
Amelia looked up and found the bees again. "But he was polite," she insisted. "He sounded cultured, maybe Italian or Spanish. And he gave me back my mother's ring."
She looked at the ring on her finger, remembering his voice and the way he touched her hand. Vermilion was both rough and gentle and very interesting.
"There are dangerous men who pretend to be gentlemen," Rosé said. "You need protection. Your father should hire guards."
"Father won't like spending the money," Amelia said.
"He'll like being robbed even less," Rosé replied.
"I don't need guards," Amelia said. "I just want to learn more about him."
"If you keep talking like this," Rosé warned, "I'll tell your father. He'll lock you in your room. You need to stop following your heart so quickly."
Amelia bit her lip and stayed quiet. "Fine," she said after a moment. "You're right. I won't talk about him again."
Rosé looked at her closely. "And you won't go looking for him?"
Amelia nodded. "I promise."
"Good," Rosé said.
"You might want to step back," Amelia added.
Rosé quickly moved away.
Amelia spread her cloak on the ground, took out a pistol, and shot the branch with the bees. It fell onto the cloak, and the bees scattered harmlessly.
She knelt and carefully searched through them. "Where are you?" she murmured, looking for the queen.
She found her and gently placed her at the entrance of an empty hive. The queen went inside, and soon the other bees followed. In a short time, the hive was full again.
Amelia smiled proudly. "Smart little creatures."
She noticed Rosé nervously making a sign of protection.
"You don't have to stay," Amelia said. "I know you don't like bees."
Rosé shivered. "Are you sure you've forgotten that thief?"
Amelia thought of him again, his voice, his presence. She knew she wouldn't forget him easily.
But Rosé was right. She was an heiress, and it wasn't proper for someone like her to think about a bandit.
"Don't worry," Amelia said as she picked up her cloak. "I've already forgotten him."