Chapter Thirteen

"It does pain me to see so many people struggling in such a way." Edith sighed and looked to Lady Eaveswood as they rode back to the estate. "I know that there will always be the poor but I do think it my responsibility to do what I can to be of aid to them."

Lady Eaveswood smiled back at her. "I think that is a very generous thing, Miss Tidemore."

"Edith, please."

"Edith, then." Lady Eaveswood's smile grew bigger. "Then you must refer to me in the same way. Christina."

Edith smiled back at her friend. "Thank you." They had been fairly well acquainted in London but, after last evening and the unexpected arrival of Lord and Lady Eaveswood, Edith had found herself all the more grateful for their company. She and Lady Eaveswood had spoken at length last evening about the present circumstances, and Edith had shared everything with the lady without having meant to in the first place! It had all come pouring out of her and Lady Eaveswood had proven to be a sympathetic ear. It had been she who had suggested a morning ride before the other guests arrived in the afternoon, and Edith had found the suggestion an excellent one. There had come with the ride a sense of freedom, which she had not experienced in some time and for which she was very grateful for. To no longer be under the watchful eye of the Duke- even for a while- was a blessing indeed!

"I do not know what the Duke of Fairglen will think of my actions," she sighed, glancing behind her to their chaperone – one of the Duke's stable hands – who had been tasked to ride along with them. "I have no doubt he will be told of it."

Lady Eaveswood lifted her shoulders. "It matters not what he thinks," she said, firmly. "If you are convinced that to treat such people with kindness and respect is what you ought to do, then no-one can judge you for that, not even the Duke himself. After all, he must learn the sort of person that you are, the sort of character you possess and he cannot do such a thing if you keep that part of yourself hidden!"

Edith smiled and nodded, trying to release the knot of tension in her stomach.

"You have concerns about him, I understand." Lady Eaveswood sighed and looked ahead to the path as they rode back towards the manor house. "If I am to be truthful – and I shall be, for I believe that we have become good friends and I know you can be trusted – I will tell you that the Duke was not always like this."

"As in, he was not always as ill-tempered as he is now?"

Lady Eaveswood nodded. "I did not know him particularly well, of course, but my husband has been very dear friends for some years. However, after the Duke's first marriage did not go as was expected, the Duke hid himself away in this estate for some years and did not once either write to or suggest visiting Eaveswood. My husband was greatly concerned, of course, and did write numerous times to him but no letter was ever answered." She shook her head and sighed again. "My husband was never angry about that, however. He always told me that he understood why the Duke of Fairglen acted as he did. To have your betrothed marry your own brother on the very same day that you were meant to be wed must have been a great trial indeed."

"Might I ask why the Duke's brother stepped in? Why did he choose to marry the lady instead of the Duke? Surely if it had been her fault and failure, then there was no reason for her to marry."

Lady Eaveswood's eyes flashed for a moment. "You do not know?"

Edith frowned. "Know what?"

"That the reason the lady married the Duke's brother was because they were found together in a compromising position," came the reply, as shock spread right across Edith's heart. "I cannot imagine what the Duke must have endured."

For some minutes, Edith could not speak and instead rode along the path in silence. She was utterly horrified – stunned, even – to hear that the Duke's betrothed had done such a thing. Though, she feared that the Duke's brother might also have borne the greater weight of guilt, might have pushed the lady into accepting his affections. Either way, the Duke of Fairglen must have been utterly broken by the situation.

"That is why he is being so cautious with me," she breathed, as Lady Eaveswood nodded. "Does he truly fear that I would do the very same to him?"

"I presume that he must think so," Lady Eaveswood answered. "Though I can assure you, no-one else thinks such a thing!"

"I am grateful for that, at least," Edith managed to murmur, a sadness sweeping through her as she thought of all that the Duke had been forced to endure. "Thank you for telling me these things, Lady Eaveswood. I am grateful to know them. It assists me in my consideration of the gentleman and that, I am sure, can only be a good thing."

***

Edith watched as Lady Eaveswood rode on ahead of her, the stable hand now leading both Edith's horse as well as his own back to the stables. She had been caught by the beautiful scents and, deciding that she would take a quiet wander around the Duke's gardens, she bid Lady Eaveswood to continue her ride without her and that they would again be in company at the manor house later that day. Now entirely on her own, Edith let herself wander through the rose gardens, inhaling deeply as she took in the wonderful fragrances and the delicate beauty of each and every flower.

The Duke was betrayed by those he cared for, she thought to herself, meandering as all thoughts of the Duke and what Lady Eaveswood had told her continued to linger in her mind. That must be a heavy burden for him to bear still. Her heart softened, then squeezed painfully. I do wonder if he still cares for her or if, in the time between their engagement and today, those feelings have faded.

Edith did not know how long she wandered through the gardens for. Her thoughts came hastily, one after the other, as she considered what she had learned, wondering if the Duke of Fairglen's ill-temper and despondent, angry nature would ever change. Was she destined to marry a gentleman who, even if they were to marry, would continue to treat her with disinterest and callousness? Would she be destined to live a life of loneliness, of solitude and sorrow?

"What are you doing here?"

Edith started violently, a figure coming towards her. It was not until the sunlight caught his features that she realized it was the Duke himself, the very gentleman she had been thinking of. "You Grace." She inclined her head. "I was out riding with Lady Eaveswood and – "

"She returned to the house some time ago. Your mother asked where you had gone and since you are my responsibility as my guest and my betrothed, I thought to come and look for you. Lady Eaveswood told me you had gone to the rose garden though I did not expect you still to be here."

The tone of his voice said to Edith that he was greatly displeased with her but she chose not to accept his berating of her. Instead, she simply shrugged and then continued to wander, trying to return to the peace and the solitude she had enjoyed before his arrival.

"I can have Miss Abernathy show you the grounds," the Duke said, coming after her though the exasperation was heavy in his voice. "We should go back inside to the other guests. Luncheon will soon be announced."

"Mrs. Abernathy is the housekeeper, yes?" Edith asked, turning her head back to see the Duke nod. "Then she is the one who will show me the house, will she not?" Such a thing had not yet happened- especially after his only attempt to show her around proved to be fruitless- but Edith expected that it would, albeit once the Duke had decided that she was suitable for his bride. "So the grounds and the gardens are not her duty." Seeing his lips twist, Edith offered him a smile, keeping her voice light. "If I am to be your wife, Your Grace, then I must understand the duties of each of the staff, must I not?" To her surprise, this lightened the Duke's expression considerably, pulling his eyebrows upwards and, to her utter astonishment, making him smile. It was the most profound moment for, as he did so, a light came into his eyes and his whole expression lifted, making warmth spread out across her chest.

"Then I suppose I shall have to show you the gardens, Miss Tidemore," he said, a lightness in his tone which had not been there before. "Shall we?"

Edith blinked and then accepted his arm, feeling the same heat in her chest firing up all over again. This was most astonishing, for the had never once thought that the Duke himself would bring her through the gardens and certainly had never imagined that he would offer her his arm in such a personal way!

"My mother loves these gardens," he said, not looking at her as they walked along the garden paths. "The roses are her favorite and my late father spent many hours making certain he could purchase – and then plant – as many different kinds of roses as he could for her."

Edith found herself smiling though her heart still beat furiously as she swallowed her surprise, fighting to keep it from her expression.

"This one is from Scotland," the Duke continued, pausing in front of an array of white roses, with yellow centers and broad petals. "If I recall, my father spent months making the arrangements, for it came from a very specific place which was very far away." His lips curved into a gentle smile again, though it faded soon afterwards. "She was delighted with it, however."

"I am certain she would have been," Edith murmured, quietly. "Thank you for sharing these things with me, Your Grace."

He glanced at her as though he was seeing her for the first time. There was no sharpness in his eyes, no steel lingering there and certainly no anger or frustration. It was as if she was looking into his true countenance; as though, underneath all that he put between the two of them, he had a softness, a gentleness to him which she had never expected.

"You must have spent many happy moments here as a child, I expect?" she asked, albeit a little tentatively, hoping and praying that they would be able to keep the conversation flowing even a little. "These gardens are wonderful and there are so many places where a child might play."

The Duke nodded, his lips flickering upwards for just a moment. "Yes. My brother and I played together here a great deal." His arm tightened for a moment under her arm and Edith looked away, hoping that she would not betray her awareness of his difficulties with his brother by her expression. Little wonder that he now appeared a little unhappy, his mouth pulling into that familiar tight line. She could not imagine what pain it would bring him to even think of his brother. Perhaps she had been foolish to ask such a thing.

"Ah, Miss Tidemore, there you are!"

Both the Duke and Edith turned as one, seeing the Duchess coming towards them. Her eyes darted from Edith to the Duke and then back again, perhaps taking in the way that they were walking together. Edith felt heat in her face and did her best to push it away. It was not as though they were doing anything wrong now, was it? In fact, this ought to be considered a good thing and from the smile on the Duchess' face, Edith hoped that she saw it in that light.

"I was hoping to discuss with you the upcoming ball," she said, coming a little closer. "The Duke has decided that there will be a ball both this sennight and one to end the house party and, given that you are to be the Duchess soon enough, I think it best that you take on the responsibility for planning them both."

Edith's smile quickly faded. She had never once planned a ball before and even though she could be the Duchess, she was not one as yet.

"I will assist you in it, of course," the Duchess said, coming closer and beckoning Edith to join her. "Come now, we should go back to the house. Betrothed you may be, but you should know better than to be walking with your betrothed alone!"

Fire burned up Edith's throat and she dropped her gaze, mumbling an apology.

"I came to find Miss Tidemore, Mother," the Duke said clearly, coming to join them both. "There is nothing wrong in spending a few minutes together." He glanced to Edith but did not smile, though she felt his encouragement nonetheless and was grateful for it. "Shall we all go back to the house together? This is to be the first evening with all of the guests and I suppose I should make certain everything is ready."

"And you will play your violin for us all at some point during this house party, will you not?" the Duchess asked, putting her hand to Edith's for a moment as they walked. "What a wonderful evening we shall have with such entertainment!"

The Duchess continued to chatter on about what else was planned for the house party and Edith was left with no ability to answer the question. It seemed that the Duchess simply assumed that Edith would play the violin for the guests, that there would be no difficulty in her performance, and yet Edith herself immediately pushed back against the idea. She had only performed in front of a small group of her father's assembled guests one evening and while the house gathering would be small, there would be every eye fixed to her and should she make one mistake, she had no doubt that some of the other guests would whisper about it – not only here but also in London when they returned. She was already under a great deal of scrutiny from the Duke himself. Was she now to be under even more?

The more the Duchess talked about the ball, firing questions at Edith as they walked, the more Edith felt herself flush with embarrassment. She did not know the answer to what food ought to be served, whether the wine should be from this part of France or from another or what order of dances there ought to be. The Duchess continued to look at Edith as she spoke, taking Edith's murmurs of agreement without question though her brow was furrowing all the more. Eventually, being unable to answer any of the questions that the Duchess had asked her about the orchestra and the décor required, Edith stopped walking, turned to face the lady and spread out her hands.

"I think I shall concede to all that you have suggested, Your Grace," she said, a little apologetically. "I have not ever planned a ball before and though I can have opinions, none of what I say will have any basis on previous experience. Though," she continued, offering the lady a small smile, "I am very eager indeed to learn all I can from you. I know that there will be a great many things to take in, a great many things for me to learn and I am grateful to you for your willingness to do so."

The Duchess tilted her head and studied Edith, her eyes flashing. "I see," she said, rather crisply. "Well, I suppose that I should not expect too much from you. You have a reprieve this time, Miss Tidemore, but I shall certainly expect a little more from you the next time there is a ball to be planned!"

"Of course." Edith inclined her head, deferring to the Duchess' authority. "Thank you again for your understanding, Your Grace."

The Duchess nodded but did not smile as she stepped away. Edith followed after her, albeit a little more slowly, her shoulders rounding as she considered that, in the Duchess' eyes, she had certainly failed.