Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

Edwina sat on the chair in her bedchamber, gazing out at the gardens. The recent brush with death still lingered in her mind and it sent shivers down her spine. She could feel her heart thudding against her chest at the mere thought of it. If not for Lord Hilgrove, she might have met her end. What a morbid and petrifying realization.

There was so much of life that she still wanted to accomplish. Marriage, children, growing old with a true love- these were all dreams she held close to her heart. But perhaps there was even more she could do, like taking up a new hobby. Almost losing everything gave her a newfound appreciation for every moment and opportunity that life had to offer. This second chance was not something to be squandered or taken for granted.

A soft knock sounded at the door before it was gently pushed open, revealing her lady's maid. "I thought you were resting," she said.

"I couldn't sleep," Edwina admitted. "Every time I close my eyes, I see the horse barreling down upon me and I panic. "

Martha's eyes held compassion. "That is to be expected, but those feelings should fade with time."

Edwina could only hope that was true. "Everything seems to take time, does it not?"

"Anything worth having does," Martha replied with a smile.

Reaching up, Edwina tightened the blanket around her shoulders. "This brush of death has me thinking."

Martha came to sit across from her. "About what?"

"I want to be happy."

"You will be, in due time," Martha encouraged. "You are still grieving the loss of your father and there is no shame in that."

Edwina glanced down at her mourning clothes, feeling suffocated by their weight on her heart. After a moment of contemplation, she made a decision. "I want to go into half-mourning and stop wearing all black."

Martha's brow shot up. "Are you sure, my lady?"

"I am," Edwina responded confidently. "It is time that I accept the fact that my father is gone and I need to make something of myself."

"It has only been four months…" Martha trailed off.

Edwina put her hand up to stop her words. "Yes, and my father would have wanted me to move on, without him."

Martha's expression softened. "That he would have."

A spark of hope ignited within Edwina, a glimmer of a second chance at happiness. It was time for her to start living again.

Rising, Martha walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a maroon gown. "I daresay that your aunt will be happy that you are finally wearing these gowns."

A flash of movement in the gardens caught Edwina's eye, drawing her attention towards the window. Her eyes fixated on her cousin and Lord Hilgrove making their way towards the archery targets, each holding a bow in their hands. A sudden desire to join them overtook her.

Martha came to stand next to her, the gown draped over her hand. "What are we looking at?"

"I think I will join Bennett and Lord Hilgrove on the lawn," Edwina replied as she rose. "It would be much more enjoyable than wasting away my afternoon in here."

With a concerned look, Martha said, "There is no shame in resting, given the circumstances."

"I am tired of resting. That is all I seem to do now," Edwina remarked.

Martha tipped her head. "Very well," she conceded. "Let's get you dressed so you can spend time with the handsome Lord Hilgrove."

Edwina feigned confusion. "Is Lord Hilgrove handsome?" she asked. "Perhaps I could see his appeal to some women but he is much too..." Her voice trailed off as she thought of the right word. She didn't dare admit that she found him to be extremely handsome or Martha might wrongly assume she had interest in him.

Knowing that Martha was still waiting on a response, Edwina settled on, "Earlish."

"'Earlish'? What does that even mean?" Martha asked, clearly perplexed.

Edwina inwardly scolded herself for blurting out such a nonsensical word. But she couldn't back down now and risk exposing her true feelings. "He looks and acts the part of an earl," Edwina said.

Martha looked unsure. "Is that not a good thing since he is, in fact, an earl?"

"It is, I suppose, for some people, but not for me," Edwina replied with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

"To clarify, you don't like people that act the part of being titled. Or is it just earls you have a complaint against?" Martha questioned .

Edwina winced, knowing how utterly ridiculous she sounded. "I am not explaining myself well, but I have no interest in Lord Hilgrove."

"I never implied that you did," Martha said.

"Good, good," Edwina muttered. "Because just the thought of us two together is absolutely ludicrous. We are such different people."

Martha bobbed her head. "I believe you."

"Yes, well, that is settled then," Edwina said. "I'm glad that we are in agreement."

"We are," Martha said, holding up the dress. "But do you plan on spending your time with me or would you rather go join the ‘earlish' Lord Hilgrove?" Her words held amusement.

Edwina slipped the blanket off her shoulders and draped it on the back of the chair. "I am going to spend time with Bennett, who happens to be with Lord Hilgrove at the moment," she clarified.

"My apologies," Martha said lightly. "Why would you want to spend time with a handsome, unattached lord?"

"Because he is just Bennett's guest," Edwina stated.

Martha shook her head. "Just promise me that you won't close yourself off from the idea."

Edwina knew that her lady's maid was only trying to help, but she had no intention of even entertaining the thought of pursuing Lord Hilgrove. He may have been her hero earlier, but that is all that he was- a fleeting hero in the moment of danger. No matter how calm and familiar his gaze felt when it met hers.

She decided to respond with what her heart dictated. "I know you mean well, but Lord Hilgrove is not my future. I am sure of it."

"If you say so, my lady."

"I do," Edwina stated confidently.

Martha smiled as if she were privy to a secret. "Very well, then, shall we dress you? "

After Edwina was dressed, she departed her bedchamber and headed towards the main level. She halfway expected everyone to gawk at her since she wasn't wearing her mourning clothes, but the servants went about their tasks, giving her little heed.

Making her way down the corridor towards the gardens, Edwina heard her aunt's voice call out to her from the study.

Edwina changed course and entered the study. She saw her aunt sitting on the settee, a book in her hand, and her uncle was hunched over his desk, reviewing the ledgers.

Her aunt's eyes gleamed with approval as they swept over Edwina's appearance. "You look lovely, Dear," she praised before turning to her husband. "Doesn't she, Lionel?"

"Yes, lovely," her uncle replied, not bothering to look up.

Pressing her lips together, her aunt shared, "Edwina is wearing a maroon gown."

"Wonderful," her uncle muttered dully.

A flash of annoyance crossed her aunt's face at his indifference. "Lionel!" she exclaimed in exasperation.

Her uncle finally tore his gaze away from the ledgers and brought his gaze up. "What is it?" he asked.

Tilting her head towards Edwina, her aunt prompted, "Doesn't Edwina look nice?"

Her uncle shifted his gaze towards her. "I must agree with my wife. You do look lovely," he declared, his voice holding a touch of sincerity. "I am glad to see that you are no longer wearing all black."

Interjecting, her aunt asked, "May I ask what prompted the change?"

Edwina smoothed down the maroon gown. "My brush with death made me realize that there is still so much I want to accomplish," she explained.

Her aunt nodded understandingly. "You are still young and have a whole life ahead of you."

With a huff, her uncle grumbled, "Life is not as grand as you make it out to be. The older you get, the more mundane tasks take over and dull the excitement of living."

"You are being rather pleasant today," her aunt remarked, her voice terse as she directed her comment at her husband.

"Would you prefer if I lied to Edwina?" he asked.

"No, but you could be a little more encouraging," her aunt responded.

Waving his hand over his cluttered desk, her uncle said, "I just read a report on soil. It wasn't the least bit riveting, but it had to be done."

Her aunt shifted her gaze towards Edwina. "Do not let us keep you, Dear," she encouraged. "I suspect you would rather do anything else than hear us bicker."

"We are not bickering." Her uncle paused. "Are we?"

Glancing at her husband, she confirmed, "We are."

"Drats," her uncle said.

Edwina took a step back. "I am going to join Bennett and Lord Hilgrove on the lawn. They are practicing archery."

"Wonderful," her aunt said. "Enjoy yourself, but do not be late for supper."

As she made her way out of the study, Edwina had the briefest thought about how Lord Hilgrove would respond to her gown. Which was absurd. Why should she care what he thought about her gown or about anything else for that matter? They were acquaintances, nothing more. Yet, she did enjoy their conversations when he wasn't so contrary. But surely those moments meant nothing.

Brushing aside that thought, Edwina exited the back door and stepped into the gardens. She headed towards the lawn where the archery targets were positioned.

Edwina came to a stop a short distance away and watched Lord Hilgrove release an arrow, its sharp point embedding itself perfectly in the center of the target.

"Well done," Bennett praised. "I see your archery skills have greatly improved since our days at Eton. "

Lord Hilgrove lowered the bow to his side and smirked. "And yet, your own abilities seem to have stayed the same."

Bennett chuckled before he turned his head towards her. His eyes widened. "Edwina," he said. "You look different. Good different, though."

Lord Hilgrove leaned closer to Bennett and joked, "That was poorly done on your part."

Holding up his bow, Bennett offered it to Edwina as he asked, "Would you care to join us?"

"I would, thank you," Edwina said as she accepted the bow. "It has been quite some time since I last shot an arrow."

"Not to worry," Bennett assured her with a smile. "You have come to the right teachers."

Edwina reached for an arrow and set it in her bowstring. She pulled back the string with practiced ease and released the arrow towards the target, hitting just next to Lord Hilgrove's successful shot.

Lord Hilgrove raised an impressed brow at her. "It seems like you don't need our help after all," he remarked, his voice carrying a hint of admiration.

Edwina couldn't help but feel a sense of pride swell within her at those words. "No, I suppose I don't," she admitted.

Bennett held his hand out for the bow, breaking the moment between her and Lord Hilgrove. "It would appear that I am the one in need of practice," he said.

She grinned at her cousin's playful tone as she relinquished the bow to him. "I didn't want to be the one to say it," she teased.

Lord Hilgrove's deep chuckle rang out and her heart took flight at the sound. Uncertain of why his laugh had elicited such a reaction, Edwina quickly directed her attention back towards the targets, determined not to let Lord Hilgrove's presence distract her.

The faint sound of the dinner bell could be heard as Miles slipped into his tailored jacket and straightened his cuffs. Bailey stood dutifully by his side, ready to assist with any request.

"That will be all," Miles said, dismissing the valet with a wave of his hand.

Bailey bowed and began tidying up the bedchamber.

Miles walked over to the door, his hand resting on the handle. "How is your sister?" he inquired.

"Which one, my lord?" Bailey asked with a smile.

"The one who eloped," Miles clarified.

Bailey's expression grew somber. "It has been some time since then, but she seems to be doing well," he said. "I receive an occasional letter from her."

Miles bobbed his head. "That is good."

"Dare I ask when the last time was that you wrote your sister?" Bailey inquired with a lifted brow.

Letting out a sigh, Miles turned to face his valet. "I must admit that it has been quite some time."

Bailey grinned. "I am well aware since you have me post the letters."

"Then why bother asking?" Miles grumbled.

Reaching down, the valet picked up Miles' riding boots. "Because I wanted you to realize how long it has been," he said with an amused glint in his eyes.

Miles frowned. "Why does it matter?" he asked. "She is married with little ones running around. She doesn't need me."

"But you are her brother, and she writes to you. Typically, people who write letters enjoy receiving a response."

"Yes, but she is happy."

Bailey gave him a knowing look. "And there lies the crux of the matter," he responded slowly. "I believe that you are envious of her happiness."

Miles huffed, feeling a touch of indignation at the accusation. "I should reprimand you for your impertinence?—"

"But you won't because I am right, and you know it," Bailey interjected confidently. He paused. "Just think on it for a while."

Reaching for the handle, Miles pushed open the door and stepped out into the corridor. He wanted to be angry at Bailey but the only person he could truly be angry at was himself. He could pretend all he wanted that he wasn't jealous of his sister, but he was. She had married for love and now they were blissfully happy at their country estate.

He didn't want to tell his sister how he was truly doing or else she might pity him. And he didn't need anyone's pity. Not now.

As he headed down the corridor, he saw Edwina slip out of her bedchamber, dressed in a dark blue gown.

Her eyes grew wide at the sight of him and she quickly dropped into a slight curtsy. "My lord," she greeted him.

"We have to stop meeting like this," he joked.

A small smile tugged at her lips, but she remained quiet.

Sensing her unease, Miles offered his arm. "May I escort you to the drawing room?" he asked.

He could see the hesitation in Edwina's eyes as she glanced down at his outstretched arm, but propriety won out and she gently placed her hand on it. "Thank you," she murmured.

While he led her down the corridor, Edwina glanced over at him. "I wanted to thank you again for saving me from that runaway horse."

"You don't need to keep thanking me."

"I know, but I feel as if I must."

Miles nodded. "Then, please, continue to thank me and perhaps even heap some praise on me around your cousin. I do quite enjoy being called ‘a hero,'" he teased with a playful wink.

Edwina lowered her gaze, but not before he saw a charming blush form on her cheeks. Perhaps he did have an effect on her. That was a rather pleasant thought.

Finding himself curious, Miles commented, "I couldn't help but notice that you are no longer clad in black."

She brought her gaze back up. "It seemed appropriate to enter into half-mourning for my father," she explained.

"May I ask what prompted this change?"

With determination shining in her eyes, she answered, "After my brush with death, it made me realize that there was much that I haven't accomplished."

"What is it that you wish to achieve?" he probed gently.

She offered a small, uncertain smile. "I want to marry for love and start a family of my own," she admitted. "You must think I am foolish."

"Not at all. I find it admirable." He hesitated before sharing, "In fact, I married for love and I do not regret that choice." His voice caught on the last word.

Edwina looked up at him, green eyes full of understanding. "But you regret other choices?" she asked.

Miles cleared his throat. "I am a soldier. I have many regrets, I'm afraid, including asking my wife to join me on the Continent. If I hadn't, she might very well be alive."

"You don't know that," she said in a vain attempt to reassure him.

"I do know that she wouldn't have been there when sickness broke out amongst the soldiers, claiming her life in the process," Miles insisted as he worked hard to keep the bitterness out of his tone.

They reached the top step of the grand staircase and Edwina turned to face him. "Your wife's death wasn't your fault. "

"Then whose fault was it?" Miles demanded, his emotions laying bare. "I asked her to come."

Edwina's expression grew determined. "Did you force her to come with you?" she asked pointedly.

"No, but Arabella could have remained back in England, where it was safe, had I not asked her," Miles declared.

"I see," Edwina said. "So you are a fortune-teller, then? You can predict the future."

"You don't understand," he scoffed.

Edwina held his gaze. "I do," she replied. "You are blaming yourself for her accompanying you, but what if she had died while you were away? I suspect that you would have blamed yourself for that as well."

Miles grew silent, unable to deny the truth in her words. "Yes, I would have," he reluctantly admitted.

Taking a step closer to him, Edwina said, "Arabella's death was tragic, but you played no hand in it. Sometimes, despite our best efforts, bad things still happen to good people."

He clenched his jaw. "It was my duty to protect her," he said through gritted teeth. "And I failed her."

Edwina placed a comforting hand on his sleeve. "You did all that you could."

"But it wasn't enough," he said, his voice heavy with guilt.

With a soft sigh, Edwina responded, "Life can be terribly unfair at times, but the only thing we can do is accept the things that we cannot change."

Miles glanced down at her hand, finding some small measure of solace from her touch. "I can't accept this."

"Then you will never be able to move forward," Edwina said, withdrawing her hand. "I didn't think I would ever accept my father's passing but it happened all at once."

"When was this?" Miles asked.

"Today, in fact, when you saved my life," Edwina said. "My perspective changed, and it was all because of you. "

Miles shifted his gaze away from her. "You make it sound so simple."

Edwina let out a soft, disbelieving laugh. "Simple?" she asked. "No, far from it. I had to almost die to realize that I was living in the past."

"I am not living in the past," Miles said.

"Well, you are certainly not living in the present," Edwina remarked.

Miles grew tense at her words, unwilling to continue this conversation. "I am supposed to take advice from you now?" he growled.

Edwina smiled- actually smiled at him, despite his best attempt at intimidating her. "You can do whatever you want, but just know that I am here for you," she said.

As the words left her mouth, Bennett's voice came from the entry hall, interrupting them. "Are you two still yammering on?" he asked, his voice holding mirth. "I am getting hungry."

Miles remained rooted in his spot as he watched Edwina gracefully descend the stairs, as if having not a care in the world. He wondered what had happened to her. She seemed more confident in herself. Which was a good thing, except when she was lecturing him. Because that is exactly what she was doing. Her advice was wholly unsolicited, but he couldn't seem to brush off her words so easily. The worst part was that she wasn't wrong in her assumptions.

Botheration.

Edwina's words shouldn't have touched him as much as they did. His heart was supposed to be impenetrable, but somehow, her words seemed to soften his heart. Which would not do. He needed to keep his distance from Edwina for now.

Bennett gave him an expectant look. "Are you coming for dinner, Miles?"

"Yes," he replied as he started to descend the stairs. "I hope I didn't inconvenience Lord and Lady Dallington too much."

"They haven't come down yet, but I expect them shortly," Bennett informed him.

"Then why the rush?" Miles asked.

Bennett grinned. "I suppose I just missed you."

"You are a terrible liar," Miles muttered.

Turning towards Edwina, Bennett acknowledged, "You are looking lovely this evening. That blue color suits you."

"Thank you, Cousin," Edwina said. "I suppose I should return the compliment by saying your waistcoat suits you."

Bennett chuckled. "That was a terrible compliment. I expect better from you next time." He glanced up at the stairs. "I wonder what is taking my mother and father so long."

"Perhaps they have grown tired of you," Miles joked.

"That is absurd," Bennett retorted. "That couldn't possibly be the reason since I am their favorite," Bennett said.

Edwina cocked her head. "I would have thought Winston was their favorite."

"No, Mother always tells me that I am her favorite," Bennett remarked.

Lady Dallington's amused voice came from behind them. "Oh, dear. I tell all my children that they are my favorite. A mother should not have a favorite child."

Bennett went to kiss his mother on her cheek before asking her, "But if there was a scenario where you had to save one child from a bear attack, which one would it be?"

With a thoughtful look on her expression, Lady Dallington inquired, "What are the circumstances?"

"We are at the circus and a bear breaks loose from its restraints and it is headed straight for us. Certain death is imminent," Bennett said. "Which child do you save?"

Lady Dallington smiled at Bennett. "Most assuredly, I would save you. You are my favorite, after all. "

Bennett gave Miles a smug look. "I told you- everyone loves me."

Miles resisted the urge to chuckle. "Your mother is clearly lying to you. By her own admission, she has no favorite child."

"Yes, but that is just to make the others feel better about themselves," Bennett remarked. "Isn't that right, Mother?"

Lady Dallington's lips twitched. "Precisely, but it might be best if you don't tell your brother and sisters that."

As she finished speaking, Lord Dallington descended the stairs and joined them in the entry hall. "Shall we adjourn to the dining room?" he asked.

"Finally," Bennett declared. "Trying to get you all to assemble is like trying to herd squirrels."

"That is quite an interesting analogy," Lady Dallington remarked. "Have you tried herding squirrels before?"

Bennett simply shrugged. "No, but it is a common expression."

"I have never heard anyone say that before," Miles insisted.

"Then, perhaps, you don't associate with the right people," Bennett retorted.

Miles let out an exasperated sigh. "Or maybe you are surrounded by idiots."

"Says the person that is standing right next to me," Bennett joked. "Who is the idiot now?"

Edwina laughed, the sound echoing through the entry hall. "I thought you were hungry, Bennett?"

"I am," Bennett said, offering his arm to his cousin. "Allow me to escort you to the dining room."

Miles trailed behind everyone as they made their way to the dining room. He wanted to hold on to his anger but his resolve was starting to slip away. And that thought troubled him more than he cared to admit.