Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

" F or heaven's sake, Edmund," came an exasperated voice from his left. "You look as though you're facing your doom, not a garden party."

Edmund stood at the edge of his grandmother's meticulously manicured lawn, a glass of lemonade clutched in his hand like a shield.

The cheerful chatter of the assembled guests washed over him, as unwelcome as the unseasonably warm spring sun beating down on his neck.

He turned to find Daniel approaching, a broad grin on his face and two fresh glasses of champagne in his hands.

"Perhaps I would prefer facing my doom," Edmund muttered, replacing the lemonade with the proffered glass of champagne, nonetheless.

Daniel chuckled, clapping his friend on the shoulder. "Come now, it can't be that bad. Your grandmother has outdone herself this time. The food is excellent, the champagne is flowing, and I do believe I spotted at least three eligible young ladies casting admiring glances your way."

Edmund grimaced. "Wonderful. Just what I need—more matchmaking attempts."

"Heaven forbid someone finds you attractive," Daniel said with a roll of his eyes. "Now, are you going to sulk here all afternoon, or shall we mingle? I spotted Lord Rutherford earlier, and I'm sure he'd be delighted to bore you with tales of his latest hunting expedition."

Before Edmund could protest, Daniel put a hand on his shoulder and steered him towards a group of gentlemen engaged in animated conversation near the rose garden.

As they walked, Daniel leaned in closer, lowering his voice. "By the way, did you hear about Lady Strathmore? Word has it that she's been making quite a spectacle of herself at recent events."

Edmund tensed up at the mention of Joanna. "I haven't been paying attention to gossip, Daniel. You know that."

Daniel nodded, his tone becoming more serious. "I know, but I thought you should be aware. After… well, after everything, she married old Lord Strathmore. Quite the scandal at the time, given the age difference. But now he passed away, leaving her a rather young widow. She's been making the rounds, clearly looking for her next conquest."

Edmund's jaw clenched. "And why should I care about Joanna's marital status?"

"I'm not saying you should," Daniel replied carefully. "But forewarned is forearmed, my friend. Especially at events like these."

Edmund sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Let's change the subject, shall we? I'd rather not dwell on past unpleasantries."

Daniel nodded, understanding the need to lighten the mood. His eyes scanned the room, lighting up as he spotted a familiar face. "Of course. In fact, I see the perfect distraction. Come, let me introduce you to some of the gentlemen here. It'll be good for you to start rebuilding those connections."

As they made their way across the room, Daniel's voice took on a more cheerful tone. "Ah, Rutherford!" he called out as they approached the man in question. "I don't believe you've had the pleasure of meeting the Duke of Holbrook, have you?"

Lord Rutherford, a portly man with an impressively bushy mustache, turned at the sound of Daniel's voice. His eyes widened slightly as they fell on Edmund.

"Your Grace! What an honor. I've heard so much about your innovations at Holbrook. Crop rotation, wasn't it? Fascinating stuff, absolutely fascinating."

Edmund nodded stiffly, desperately searching for something to say. "Yes, well… it's proven quite effective."

An awkward silence fell over the group.

Daniel, ever the social butterfly, jumped in to fill the void. "I was just telling His Grace about your recent hunting trip, Rutherford. Bagged an impressive stag, didn't you?"

Lord Rutherford's chest puffed up with pride. "Oh, indeed! A magnificent beast, twelve points on his antlers. You should have seen him—came charging out of the underbrush like the very devil himself!"

As Lord Rutherford launched into a blow-by-blow account of his epic battle with the stag, Edmund found his mind wandering. He nodded at appropriate intervals, but his thoughts were far from the hunt. Instead, he found himself reflecting on the strange restlessness that had plagued him since Lady Windhurst's soirée.

The memory of that night kept intruding on his thoughts. He couldn't quite understand why the lady in blue had left such an impression. Perhaps it was the way she had stood up to him, showing a spirit so rarely seen in the simpering debutantes that usually hounded him. Or perhaps it was the vulnerability he'd glimpsed beneath her bravado, a hint of something deeper that called to him in ways he couldn't quite explain.

Unbidden, his mind wandered to more… intimate thoughts. To the soft curve of her lips as she'd smiled despite herself. He found himself wondering how those lips might feel against his own, how her body might fit against his as they danced. The memory of her delicate scent-lavender and something uniquely her-lingered tantalizingly in his mind.

Edmund shook his head slightly, trying to dispel these unwelcome thoughts. He had no business thinking about a woman he'd likely never see again. His duty was to Holbrook, to his tenants, and to his legacy.

And yet his eyes scanned the crowd, his heart quickening at every flash of honey-brown hair or peal of laughter that sounded vaguely familiar.

And still, as Lord Rutherford droned on about antler points and tracking techniques, Edmund found his mind drifting once more to that moonlit garden, to the spark of connection he'd felt with a woman whose name he didn't even know.

It was a dangerous path his thoughts were taking, one that could lead to nothing but disappointment and disillusionment. And yet, he couldn't quite bring himself to banish the memory of her entirely.

"… and then, if you'll believe it, the dashed thing leaped clean over a hedgerow! Never seen anything like it in all my years of hunting. Wouldn't you agree, Your Grace?"

Edmund started, realizing he'd completely zoned out during the conversation. "I… yes, quite extraordinary," he managed, hoping his lack of attention wasn't too obvious.

Daniel, sensing his friend's discomfort, smoothly interjected. "Speaking of extraordinary feats, did you gentlemen hear about Lord Hamilton's recent escapades at White's? I dare say it puts your hunting adventures to shame, Rutherford."

As Daniel launched into what was no doubt a highly embellished tale, Edmund shot him a grateful look. Daniel winked in return, before throwing himself into his storytelling with gusto, complete with dramatic gestures and impersonations that soon had the entire group in stitches.

Edmund, for his part, was content to fade into the background, offering the occasional nod or murmur of agreement when it seemed appropriate. He had just begun to think that perhaps he might survive this social ordeal after all when a shrill voice cut through the air.

"Your Grace! There you are!"

Edmund turned to find Lady Thistlewaite heading towards him, with her daughter in tow, a determined glint in her eyes. He suppressed a groan. Lady Thistlewaite was notorious for her attempts to marry off her painfully shy daughter to any eligible bachelor with a title.

"Lady Thistlewaite," Edmund said, bowing slightly. "Lady Jane. I trust you're enjoying the party?"

"Oh, immensely!" Lady Thistlewaite gushed. "Your grandmother has outdone herself, as always. Jane was just saying how lovely the flowers are. Weren't you, dear?"

Lady Jane, a mousy girl who looked as though she'd rather be anywhere else, mumbled something unintelligible and stared fixedly at the ground.

"Indeed," Edmund replied, casting about desperately for some excuse to extricate himself from the conversation. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I see my grandmother beckoning."

"Oh, but surely you can spare a moment," Lady Thistlewaite pressed. "Amelia so rarely gets the chance to converse with gentlemen of quality. Perhaps you might take a turn about the garden with her? The roses are particularly fine this time of year."

Edmund opened his mouth, ready to deliver a firm but polite refusal, when Daniel suddenly appeared at his elbow.

"I do beg your pardon, Lady Thistlewaite," Daniel said smoothly, "but I'm afraid I must steal His Grace away. Urgent business matters, you understand. Can't be avoided."

Before Lady Thistlewaite could protest, Daniel had whisked Edmund away, steering him towards a quiet corner of the garden.

"I believe that's the third time you've saved me from social ruin today," Edmund said dryly once they were out of earshot. "I'm beginning to think I should hire you as my personal guard against overzealous mamas."

Daniel grinned. "What are friends for, if not to rescue each other from the perils of polite society? Though I must say, Edmund, your conversational skills leave much to be desired. ‘Yes, quite extraordinary'? Really?"

Edmund had the grace to look sheepish. "I'm afraid I was rather distracted."

"Distracted?" Daniel's eyebrows rose. "By what, pray tell? Surely not by any of the lovely young ladies in attendance? That would be most unlike you."

Edmund frowned, unsure how to explain the restlessness that had plagued him since that night at Lady Windhurst's soirée.

"It's nothing," he said finally. "Just the usual concerns about Holbrook. There's so much to be done, and these social obligations take up valuable time."

Daniel's expression softened. "I know you take your responsibilities seriously, Edmund. But you can't spend every waking moment worrying about the estate. A little socializing won't bring Holbrook to ruin, you know."

Edmund sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know. It's just that I feel out of place here, Daniel. All this small talk and posturing—it's exhausting."

"Well, then," Daniel said, a mischievous glint in his eyes, "perhaps we should liven things up a bit. What say you to a small wager?"

Edmund eyed his friend warily. "What kind of wager?"

"Nothing too outrageous," Daniel assured him. "I bet you can't make it through three separate conversations without mentioning Holbrook or any of your duties as Duke. If you succeed, I'll take over your social engagements for the next month. If you fail, you have to attend Lady Windhurst's musicale next week—and stay for the entire performance."

Edmund grimaced. Lady Windhurst's musicales were notorious for featuring her tone-deaf niece's attempts at Italian arias. And yet the prospect of a month free from social obligations was tempting.

"Very well," he agreed after a moment's consideration. "You have a deal."

Daniel's face split into a wide grin. "Excellent! Now, let's see… ah! Lord and Lady Musgrave. They're always good for a bit of harmless gossip. Shall we?"

As Daniel led him towards the unsuspecting couple, Edmund squared his shoulders, as if preparing for battle. He could do this. Three conversations without mentioning Holbrook or his duties. How hard could it be?

Two hours and several painfully awkward exchanges later, Edmund was beginning to regret his decision. He had managed to navigate a discussion about the weather with Lord Musgrave and a stilted conversation about the latest fashions from Paris with Lady Ashworth. But now, faced with the formidable presence of the Dowager Countess of Marlborough, he found himself at a loss.

"Your Grace," the Dowager Countess said, fixing him with a piercing stare. "I understand you've been making quite a stir with your agricultural reforms. Tell me, how do you find the yield this year compared to last?"

Edmund opened his mouth, then closed it again, acutely aware of Daniel's amused eyes boring into him from across the lawn.

"I… that is to say… have you tried the lemonade, my lady? It's quite refreshing."

The Dowager Countess's eyebrows rose so high that they nearly disappeared into her hairline. "Lemonade? I asked about crop yields, young man, not beverages."

"Yes, well…" Edmund floundered, desperately searching for something, anything, to say that didn't involve Holbrook or his duties. "Did you know that lemons were once considered so valuable that kings would present them as gifts? I had considered growing them at Holbrook, but the climate isn't conducive."

The silence that followed was deafening. The Dowager Countess stared at him as though he'd suddenly grown a second head. From the corner of his eye, Edmund could see Daniel doubling over with barely suppressed laughter.

"I… see," the Dowager Countess said finally. "Well, if you'll excuse me, Your Grace. I believe Lady Thistlewaite is calling for me."

As she walked away, her back ramrod straight with disapproval, Edmund let out a long, slow breath. He turned to find Daniel approaching, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

"Oh, bravo, Your Grace," Daniel said, his voice shaking with suppressed laughter. "A truly masterful display of social grace. I particularly enjoyed your fascinating lecture on the historical significance of citrus fruits."

Edmund groaned, realizing his mistake. "Damn it all. I mentioned Holbrook, didn't I?"

"Indeed you did, my friend," Daniel replied cheerfully. "And here I thought you'd actually manage to win our little wager. I intend to dine out on this story for months."

Edmund groaned. "I don't suppose there's any chance you'd be willing to forget that ever happened?"

"Not a chance," Daniel replied cheerfully. "Now, shall we discuss the arrangements for Lady Windhurst's musicale? I hear her niece has been practicing a particularly challenging piece from The Magic Flute ."

As Daniel launched into an enthusiastic description of the upcoming musical torture, Edmund smiled despite his embarrassment. Perhaps these social gatherings weren't entirely without merit, if only for the amusement they provided his friend.

And if, as they made their way back towards the refreshments table, his eyes scanned the crowd once more for a glimpse of honey hair and vibrant green eyes…

Well, that was his secret to keep.