Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Reining in her horse in front of Brockhall Manor, Edwina gracefully dismounted and handed off the reins to the waiting footman.

She murmured her thanks before she headed up the stairs towards the main door. The lanky butler, White, stood to the side, his impeccable black hair slicked back and glistening in the sun.

With a subtle nod, he acknowledged her presence as he held the door open. Edwina entered the entry hall, casting a thoughtful glance at White's stoic expression. She wondered if there was a chance to witness a smile on his face, a rare sight since he took charge as the butler.

"Did you have an enjoyable ride, my lady?" White asked.

"I did," Edwina replied. "I shall go change and come down for breakfast."

White closed the door as he said, "Very good."

Edwina turned on her heel and made her way towards the stairs. Her gaze swept over the entry hall, a space her uncle had left untouched. Yet, it seemed so different now that her father wasn't here.

As her hand touched the cool iron railing, she began ascending the stairs, reflecting on the vulnerability she had shown Lord Hilgrove in the woodlands earlier. She questioned what he must think of her, having exposed so much of herself. However, she did believe him when he assured her that he wouldn't betray her confidence.

The depths of trust she placed in a man she hardly knew puzzled her, yet she couldn't deny it. There was an unspoken connection in their shared grief that resonated with her, providing the courage to confide in him- a rare occurrence since her father's passing. Few cared to know the true extent of her thoughts and pain, but with Lord Hilgrove, she felt heard.

Edwina proceeded down the corridor until she arrived at her bedchamber, opening the door. Inside, her silver-haired lady's maid was busy organizing the vanity table in the corner.

Martha, who had once served her mother in the same capacity, greeted Edwina with a warm smile. "How was your ride?" she asked.

"It went well," Edwina replied as she closed the door behind her.

"You are back much earlier than I was expecting," Martha noted.

Edwina didn't dare admit that Lord Hilgrove had been the reason she hadn't tarried as long as she usually did in the woodlands. "I didn't wish to be late for breakfast," she offered. At least that much was true.

Martha eyed her curiously. "Since when do you care about being on time to breakfast?"

"Since we have a guest residing with us," Edwina explained. "I do not wish to give my uncle any reason to chide me."

"Your uncle cares for you," Martha attempted.

Edwina huffed in disbelief. "He used to," she replied. "But ever since he inherited my father's title, he chides me for the tiniest infraction. "

"Perhaps he does care too much about what you do," Martha responded as she walked over to the wardrobe. "Shall we change you out of your riding habit?"

"I suppose that would be for the best."

Martha removed a black muslin gown from the wardrobe. "What are your thoughts on Lord Hilgrove?"

"I have none," she rushed out.

"Not even one?"

Edwina shook her head. "I do not think upon Lord Hilgrove at all," she replied. "He is Bennett 's guest, not mine, and his appearance does not matter to me, especially since I don't plan to spend more time with him than necessary."

Martha seemed like she wanted to delve into the topic further, but thankfully chose to leave well enough alone. "We should hurry if you want to be on time for breakfast," she suggested.

Edwina had no desire to talk about Lord Hilgrove. He was a nice enough man, but that is all it was. In a fortnight, he would go his way and she would go her way. He was just a guest in their home, and her politeness was solely for Bennett's sake. Nothing more.

Once she was dressed, Edwina departed from her bedchamber and hurried towards the dining room. She stepped into the room and saw Bennett and Lord Hilgrove sitting at the long rectangular table. They both stood as she entered, and she waved them back down.

"Good morning, Cousin," Bennett greeted. "You are remarkably punctual for breakfast today." His words carried a hint of playfulness.

As a footman pulled out a chair for her, Edwina sat down. "I deemed it prudent to be on time since we have a guest."

Bennett shifted in his seat, turning towards Lord Hilgrove. "Edwina has a tendency to be fashionably late for breakfast due to her morning rides in the woodlands. She always seems to lose track of time. "

"Is that so?" Lord Hilgrove inquired, his gaze fixed on Edwina.

Edwina leaned slightly as a footman placed a plate of food before her. "Bennett is prone to exaggeration."

"That he is," Lord Hilgrove agreed.

Bennett smirked. "But in this case, I do not exaggerate," he said with a hint of amusement. "There is a stream deep within the woodlands that Edwina loves to escape to. She will just sit on a large rock and retreat to her own thoughts for what feels like hours."

"Perhaps Lady Edwina is attempting to ignore you, but you aren't clever enough to take the hint?" Lord Hilgrove suggested.

Edwina grinned, her hand instinctively covering her mouth.

Bennett chuckled. "Who wouldn't relish in my company?"

"Lots of people," Lord Hilgrove promptly replied, raising an eyebrow. "I am sure our teacher from Eton, Mr. Maddocks, would agree."

"That is because he couldn't take a joke," Bennett defended himself.

"Or it had something to do with the fact that you put a hedgehog into his bed and laughed when the headmaster informed you that Mr. Maddock had been attacked," Lord Hilgrove retorted dryly.

Bennett merely shrugged, a glint of mischief still present in his eyes. "Exactly, he couldn't take a joke."

Lord Hilgrove looked heavenward. "My friend is an idiot."

"You choose to associate with me. What does that say about you?" Bennett joked. "Besides, Edwina loves my company, don't you?"

Edwina lowered her hand to her lap. "I do." Her voice held a hint of teasing before adding hesitantly, "Some of the time. "

With a shake of his head, Bennett feigned hurt. "You have betrayed me, Cousin."

Lord Hilgrove gave her an approving nod. "Well done, my lady," he praised. "You have managed to knock Bennett down a peg or two."

Edwina resisted the urge to smile at Lord Hilgrove. Instead, she masked her amusement with a demure sip of her tea. She reached for her fork and began to eat her breakfast.

"Will Miss Bawden be joining us on the lawn today for our game of pall-mall?" Bennett inquired.

She swallowed the bite of food before replying, "Yes, I received word early this morning."

"Wonderful," Bennett said with enthusiasm. "I have played with Miss Bawden before and she isn't completely incompetent at pall-mall."

"That is quite the compliment coming from you," Lord Hilgrove quipped.

Bennett nodded. "Unfortunately, you are easily the worst player of the group and you will no doubt embarrass yourself in front of the ladies."

Lord Hilgrove's brow furrowed in annoyance. "I doubt that."

"No, it is true," Bennett insisted. "I suspect you haven't picked up a mallet since your interests have been elsewhere."

"You mean the war?" Lord Hilgrove asked incredulously.

Bennett waved his hand in front of him. "A true gentleman never abandons his beloved game of pall-mall, no matter the circumstances," he joked with dramatic flair. "Instead of fighting with muskets, you could have brought mallets and balls with you and played on the battlefield."

Lord Hilgrove sat back in his chair, appearing unimpressed by his friend's antics. "Do you even know how war works?"

"It can't be overly complicated since you participated in it," Bennett remarked with a teasing smirk .

Lord Hilgrove let out an exasperated sigh. "Why am I friends with you again?" he grumbled.

"Because I am without a doubt the most entertaining person you know," Bennett responded.

"No, that is most assuredly not it," Lord Hilgrove said.

Edwina couldn't help but smile as she watched the banter between her cousin and Lord Hilgrove unfold. Their playful teasing was a welcome distraction from the tense atmosphere that had surrounded her since her father's passing.

Turning towards her, Bennett asked, "What say you?"

She dabbed at the corners of her mouth with her napkin before inquiring, "About what, exactly?"

"Do you know why Miles is friends with me?" Bennett questioned.

With a quick glance at Lord Hilgrove, she answered carefully, "I cannot presume to know his reasonings."

"You are of no use, Cousin," Bennett joked, his words softened by a smile. "You should be on my side, not Lord Hilgrove's."

"I am on no one's side," Edwina said.

Just then, her aunt stepped into the room and the men stood. "Well said, Edwina," she praised. "I have learned to stay out of Bennett's spats with his friends."

"It is not a spat, Mother," Bennett clarified. "We are having a serious conversation about why Lord Hilgrove is friends with me."

After her aunt settled back into her seat, the men resumed their positions. "I have often wondered how you two ended up friends," her aunt mused, her eyes flickering between Lord Hilgrove and Bennett. "Lord Hilgrove has always had a seriousness to him, and Bennett, well, is Bennett. He is special, in more ways than one."

Lord Hilgrove smiled. "I couldn't agree with you more, my lady. "

Her aunt's attention shifted towards Edwina. "I understand that Miss Bawden will be joining you for your game of pall-mall today," she said.

"It is true," Edwina confirmed.

Her aunt turned to Bennett again, giving him a pointed look. "Miss Bawden would make a fine choice for a bride, considering she is the granddaughter of an earl," she said.

Bennett's expression tightened at his mother's words. "Mother…" Bennett started.

Placing her hand up, Lady Dallington spoke over him. "You are nearly thirty years old. It is time for you to take a wife."

"In due time," Bennett responded.

Lady Dallington took a sip of her drink. "You say that, but you have made no effort in finding one. I had four children at your age."

"Our situations are vastly different," Bennett argued, his voice rising in frustration. The lines on his forehead deepened as he tried to make his point.

Her aunt reached for her fork, a glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes. "And that, my dears, is how you can successfully goad Bennett into silence," she teased.

Edwina couldn't contain her laugher at her aunt's playful antics.

"Now, let us enjoy our meal before you all must run along to play your rousing game of pall-mall," her aunt encouraged with a warm smile.

After breakfast, Miles descended the stairs of the manor and made his way towards the sprawling lawn. The sun was already high in the sky, casting its warm rays upon him, making him deucedly uncomfortable. He had no desire to play a game of pall-mall, but he didn't dare disappoint Edwina.

He had enjoyed speaking with her this morning in the woodlands, far more than he should have. She seemed more open and talkative, yet he could still sense that she held a part of herself back from him. He understood that feeling all too well.

As Miles reached for a mallet, a gloved hand swooped in and took the one he had wanted. He turned around to see a tall, redheaded young woman with a mischievous smile on her face.

"I always get the mallet with the blue stripe on it," the young woman declared, her voice carrying a hint of playful competition. "Blue has been my lucky color as of late."

"Is any color truly lucky?" Miles questioned.

She laughed. "For me, it is," she replied confidently. "I have won every match the last few times that I have played with this mallet, and I don't intend to break my streak today."

While Bennett approached them, he chimed in, "I do believe introductions are in order. Lord Hilgrove, allow me the privilege of introducing you to Miss Bawden, the eldest daughter of our esteemed vicar."

Miles bowed. "The pleasure is all mine."

Miss Bawden dropped into a curtsy, her grip firm on the coveted mallet. "My lord," she murmured.

Bennett stopped next to them and warned, "Just so you know, Winston is Miss Bawden's archenemy."

At the mere mention of Winston's name, Miss Bawden groaned. "Your brother is simply terrible, absolutely dreadful," she declared.

Bennett chuckled and turned to him, saying, "Winston and Miss Bawden have been constantly at odds for many, many years now. "

"I dreaded whenever Lord Winston came to visit Brockhall Manor. He would make my life utterly unbearable for the short time he was here on his visits," Miss Bawden stated.

Miles opened his mouth to inquire why that was, but Bennett spoke first. "Do not ask any questions," he urged, a teasing lilt in his voice. "Trust me, you don't want to get caught up in the tangled web of their longstanding feud."

Edwina's soft voice chimed in from behind them. "Bennett is right. The list of grievances between them is long and cumbersome."

"That is only because Lord Winston can't handle being proven wrong," Miss Bawden muttered under her breath.

"Neither can you," Edwina teased.

"You make a fair point," Miss Bawden reluctantly admitted. "But it is only because I am so rarely in the wrong."

Edwina smiled. "I see that you have your lucky blue mallet," she said, gesturing towards the mallet in Miss Bawden's hand.

"Mallets, themselves, cannot be lucky," Miles interjected.

Miss Bawden looked amused. "I see you are not a believer, but you will be. Once I beat you soundly, you will believe in the magic of the blue mallet."

"Magic does not exist," Miles argued.

"So say you ," Miss Bawden retorted.

Miles shook his head, finding this conversation to be utterly ridiculous. "So says everyone."

Bennett's laughter rang out. "You are not going to win this argument, Miles," he said. "Miss Bawden would rather fall on her own sword than admit defeat."

"That is only because I have right on my side," Miss Bawden stated. "But enough of this talk, it is time to play pall-mall."

Reaching for a mallet, Bennett asked, "Shall we play doubles? "

Miss Bawden held her mallet up. "I will partner with Lord Dunsby," she announced. "Together, we will be an unstoppable team."

Bennett tipped his head at Miss Bawden before saying, "That means that Miles will be partnering with Edwina."

Miles turned to face Edwina. "I hope you have no objections about partnering with me."

"I have none," she responded.

As Miles reached for a mallet, his hand suddenly stilled and he asked with curiosity, "Dare I ask if you have a lucky mallet, as well?"

Edwina's eyes lit up with amusement. "I do not."

He retrieved a polished mallet and extended it towards her. "I hope this one will suffice."

"It will do quite nicely," Edwina said graciously. "I feel as if I should warn you that I am not nearly as competitive as Miss Bawden."

Miles shifted his gaze towards Miss Bawden and noticed that she was gracefully stretching with the mallet in her hands. "What is she doing?" he asked.

Edwina followed his gaze. "Miss Bawden takes pall-mall very seriously. She always stretches before a game."

"That is rather unconventional," Miles commented.

"You have seen nothing yet, I'm afraid," Edwina said. "Sometimes Miss Bawden will even crouch down and speak to her ball."

"What does she say?"

Edwina shrugged. "She mostly encourages it to go through the arch."

Miles selected a mallet for himself and said, "That would be a sight to behold."

"You should consider yourself lucky that you have never witnessed a game where Miss Bawden and Winston are playing," Edwina said. "It is pandemonium."

"Surely it can't be that bad," Miles remarked .

Bennett, who had been silently observing the conversation, stepped closer to them and lowered his voice. "Edwina is right. They both are far too competitive for their own good."

"Then why partner with Miss Bawden if she is so competitive?" Miles inquired.

A determined gleam came into Bennett's eyes. "To win, of course," he responded.

While Bennett walked away, Edwina asked, "What is our plan?"

"A plan?" Miles questioned. "Do we truly need one?"

Edwina bobbed her head. "We will surely lose if we do not have an effective strategy," she urged in a serious tone. "Do we want to plan our shots in advance or attempt to block our opponent?"

Miles couldn't help but grin at her insistence. "When did pall-mall become so complicated?"

"There are bragging rights to whoever wins pall-mall, and my family takes those very seriously," she explained. "If Bennett wins, then…"

"He will be more unbearable than he already is," Miles said, finishing her thought.

"Precisely," Edwina responded.

Miles shifted his gaze towards Bennett and Miss Bawden, who were engaged in hushed conversation near the refreshment table. No doubt planning their own strategy.

A moment of nostalgia washed over him as he remembered the last time he had played pall-mall was with Arabella. It was a sunny day much like this one, although the circumstances were vastly different. Arabella had been terrible at pall-mall- the worst he had ever seen. But she didn't let that stop her from playing with boundless enthusiasm. Nothing could dampen her spirits.

He couldn't do this. Quite frankly, he had no desire to participate in this game of pall-mall with the memories of Arabella still so vibrant in his mind .

Miles returned the mallet to its holder and took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Lady Edwina. I can't do this."

Concern etched across her features as she gazed up at him. "It will be all right," she reassured him. "It is just a game. No one truly cares who wins or loses."

Knowing he owed her an explanation, Miles responded, "The last time I played pall-mall was with my late wife."

Her eyes filled with compassion. "I understand, more so than you know, considering my father loved pall-mall. He was the one who taught me how to play."

"Then how is it that you can play pall-mall without the memory of your father haunting you?" Miles inquired.

Edwina looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, "I never thought about it that way. To me, I am simply doing something that we both loved, and it brings back pleasant memories."

"Arabella was terrible at pall-mall. She could never quite hit the ball with the right amount of force," Miles admitted. "But winning wasn't important to her. She simply found joy in playing the game." He paused. "She used to say that she only came for the food."

With a glance at the refreshment table, Edwina said, "I do enjoy the food, as well."

"So you see why I can't play?" Miles asked.

Edwina brought her gaze back to his as she replied, "I don't, actually."

Taken aback by her response, he asked, "I beg your pardon?"

"I feel that you shouldn't stop living and enjoying the little moments just because your wife has passed on," Edwina explained, her voice gentle. "She wouldn't want you to avoid doing things you used to enjoy."

Miles' brow shot up. "Surely you cannot be serious?" he asked. "You presume to know what my wife would have wanted?" His words came out much harsher than he had intended .

Edwina winced. "I know it isn't my place?—"

He spoke over her. "No, it isn't," he said. "Am I supposed to take advice from you- someone who only lost a father? I lost my wife and brother! It is not the same and do not try to pretend that it is."

Miles could see a flicker of emotion pass over her features, but he couldn't quite decipher what it was. Was it anger? Annoyance? Or something else entirely different? But it was evident that he had gotten a rise out of her.

"Forgive me," she murmured as she returned the mallet to its holder. "I do not feel much like playing anymore." Her eyes glistened with unshed tears as she spun on her heel. Hurrying up the pathway leading to the manor, she disappeared within its walls.

Miles felt a wave of guilt wash over him. He had been so insensitive, not considering how his words would affect her.

Bennett's inquiring voice came from behind him. "Where did Edwina go?" he asked.

Shifting uncomfortably in his stance, Miles admitted, "I'm afraid I upset her."

"What did you do?" Bennett asked, his words accusatory.

Facing his friend, Miles couldn't help but feel ashamed. "I may have insinuated that Edwina's grief is less than my own."

Bennett drew his brows together. "That is rather unfair of you to say."

"I know," Miles responded, knowing that is all he could say. He was in the wrong, and it pained him to admit that to himself.

Miss Bawden placed the mallet down. "Perhaps I should go see if Edwina is all right. Please excuse me," she said before she headed towards the manor.

Bennett's arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his eyes glinting with barely contained anger. "Do you care to explain yourself?" he demanded.

"No. "

"Well, try anyways," Bennett stated.

Miles decided it would be best if he just told his friend the truth and hoped he would understand. "The last time I played pall-mall was with Arabella," he shared. "I informed Lady Edwina of this, and she encouraged me to still play."

"And?" Bennett prodded.

"That is all."

"So you responded by insulting her?"

"It wasn't my finest moment," Miles admitted.

Bennett uncrossed his arms, his expression softening slightly. "No, it wasn't," he agreed. "One cannot measure or compare the weight of grief of another."

Miles knew his friend was right, but Bennett didn't understand. No one could possibly grasp the immense depths of pain that consumed him each and every day. He was broken, a mere shell of the man he once was.

Turning his attention towards the manor, Bennett continued, "There may be one person who understands, but you pushed her away when she only wanted to offer her support."

In a steely voice, Miles said, "I do not need- or want- Lady Edwina's help."

With a shake of his head, Bennett countered, "Regardless, the next time you hurt my cousin, I will have no choice but to challenge you to a duel."

Miles resisted the urge to laugh. "You would lose. I am a trained soldier and sharpshooter."

"Most likely, but I love my cousin and I won't have her dishonored in her own home," Bennett declared in an unyielding and resolute tone.

"For what it is worth, I am sorry," Miles said, feeling contrite. "It was not my intention to dishonor Lady Edwina."

Bennett gave him a knowing look, conveying both understanding and disappointment. "I am not the one that you owe an apology to," he stated before making his way towards the manor .

Miles waited until his friend disappeared into the manor before he hung his head. What he had said to Lady Edwina was terribly unfair. Now he found himself in the uncomfortable position of having to apologize to her and make amends for his thoughtless words.