Maida spies on Bartholomew

Maida fled outdoors to cool her muddled head. She stormed up the slope seeking momentary safety from the trees. Her feet brought her to where she had last sighted him. In her pocket, she carried the stake with the cloth flag in its loop. I don’t know why I stole it. He must realize how many he owns.
Once arriving at the oak grove, she slowed her steps so the shoof, shoof made by her boots barely sounded on the thick carpet of leaves. The serenity of the oaks called to her. Her regular, almost daily forays into the woods were familiarizing her with the layout of the trees, ground cover, and sloping land. They welcomed now rather than causing her to hesitate as she approached.
Navigating through the ancient oak thicket, she paused, then moved forward, straining for the sounds of men working, which might be muffled by the forest floor. When voices reached her, she stopped. They appeared to be a far-off echo. But she knew the heavy trunks and thick layer of leaves deadened sound.
With slow steps, she traipsed around a tree, halted, and backed up. A helper stood near, leaning over as he splayed out the chain with his hand. He took a last step backward, and the chain fell to the ground. Maida crouched behind a large root and prayed he had not seen her as blood rushed through her veins.
Clank! The stake dropped from her hand as she twisted her head. She could hear indistinct voices approaching.
I’m too close! On her knees, she crawled away from the man; her gaze whipping around to locate the others. Mr. de Courcy stood nearby. The second helper leaned on a pole while the surveyor gazed through the instrument she had examined days ago.
About five feet away was the safety of another tree. She pulled up her skirts and ran, putting her faith in the men being focused on work—or bored—and dove for the tree’s shelter; the sound of fabric ripping echoed as she landed. Her heart thundered against her temples. Maida brought her hands to her face and covered her eyes like a child does, as in, ‘if I can’t see him, he can’t see me.’
Only the heavy noise of her breathing filled her ears; no call of recognition, no laughter followed her. She remained a hedgehog-like ball until other sounds intruded: the wind in the trees, birds singing, and the buzz of insects. Then, with a tisk at the rip in her dress, she slunk home.

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This snippet occurs after both our hero and heroine have had time to identify the other after the bathing scene.

Maida accidentally-on-purpose steals one of the stakes he uses to mark distances.

While neither has been formally introduced to the other, they are both looking forward to a formal dinner party the next evening.

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