Chapter Two

A short time later, Parthena stood beside her mother and Fidelia looking out through the glass of the terrace doors at Lady Baldwin and the rest of her little party. Upon arriving to their assigned rooms, a stout little maid appeared who proceeded to unpack their things with ruthless efficiency. There had been no time to rest. Mama insisted they join the other guests immediately, as there were several unattached gentlemen in attendance.

Parthena had no doubt the news of her latest misstep was already making the rounds. She doubted her barely adequate violin playing would sway any man in her direction.

"I wonder which one of these gentlemen is the Duke of Wexham," her mother stopped at the entry to the terrace, surveying those gathered. "Lady Baldwin tells me his estate is only an hour's ride from here. He rarely leaves, not to visit London or even Wickham."

"Truthfully, Mama there is nothing of interest in Wickham." Parthena spoke of the nearest village with no small amount of affection. "But I share the duke's opinion of London. I don't care for town either." Even if she did, the finances of the Holm family would prohibit travel to London.

"Likely that one," Fidelia pointed to a portly, elderly gentleman. "He looks to have gout which makes travel difficult and is appropriately anciently ducal."

"Fidelia," Mama chastised. But she kept her eyes on the rounded gentleman dressed smartly with a neatly trimmed beard.

Parthena peeked at the other guests whom she was reluctant to join for obvious reasons. "Perhaps Wexham is disfigured."

Mama pinched the bridge of her nose as if praying for patience. "Why would you say such a thing, Parthena?"

"Well, if he isn't ancient or gout-ridden, the obvious reason for his reclusive nature would be a disfigurement of some sort which makes his appearance unappealing. In any case, I don't care to make his acquaintance. I should like to return to our room. I'm in need of a respite given earlier events."

"You will not. An apology must be made to Lady Baldwin for causing such an uproar earlier. The duke is likely upset no matter the intervention of Mr. Shore. His things were spilled across the foyer for all to see. You do not wish to offend a duke."

"You want me to apologize for my underthings? Mama, you must be joking." Would there be no end to her humiliation? "The footman dropped my trunk. And it isn't my fault the latch doesn't work correctly."

"Parthena." Mama hissed. "His Grace might have found your—things mingling to be an affront to his senses. Think of Lady Baldwin and the position you have put her in."

An affront to his senses. Wexham was not only a disfigured recluse but a prig as well. "I suppose I can't have my slippers insulting a duke."

Mama nodded, missing the sarcasm of Parthena's remark entirely.

Fidelia tugged her forward and whispered, "Thena, you're only making it worse."

She discreetly kicked her sister in the shin. "Let go this instant. I do not need to be led about."

They swatted discreetly at each other for several moments, Parthena's feet sliding along the floor as Fidelia started to drag her forward, oblivious to the scene they presented to the others on the terrace. Finally stumbling into the sunlight, Parthena looked up to see a dozen pairs of eyes turned in their direction.

Lady Baldwin took a deep breath, resigned to the presence of the Holm women.

Mama hurried to Lady Baldwin, her niece, Lady Belinda, by her side. Greetings were made before her mother profusely thanked their hostess for the privilege of allowing Parthena and Fidelia to accompany Lady Belinda. "I believe Parthena has something she wishes to say to you, my lady."

Lady Baldwin lifted her chin, gazing at Parthena through narrowed eyes. Waiting.

Fidelia pinched her arm. "Go on. Mama won't be satisfied until you do."

Parthena made her way forward, conscious of the sudden silence as she greeted Lady Baldwin and Belinda politely. Clearing her throat she said, "I apologize, my lady, for the accident which took place upon our arrival and the impolite behavior of my trunk."

"Unfortunate indeed, Miss Holm. Be forewarned that during your stay," her voice lowered. "I will not tolerate a repeat of the incident . The Duke of Wexham is an honored guest, one who rarely leaves his estate. That he has done so for this gathering"—she shot an adoring look at Belinda—"is of great importance. Against my better judgement I agreed to allow you and your sister to accompany Lady Belinda tomorrow evening, but your mother prevailed upon me to do so. Do not make me regret my kindness."

"Yes, my lady." Parthena lowered her eyes.

"Come, Mrs. Holm." Lady Baldwin took Mama's arm with a smile, one that did not reach her eyes. "I wish to introduce you to Lady Hanson." She dismissed Parthena without another look. "Fidelia, you may join us."

Lady Belinda regarded Parthena with her lovely eyes the color of bluebells. Everything about Belinda was rather perfect. Proper. She never spoke out of turn, nor did disaster follow her about. Aside from her singing voice, Belinda was the epitome of English womanhood.

"I understand you are to accompany me tomorrow night." Belinda's lips pursed into a rosette. "I don't like it any more than you, Miss Holm. Nor was it my suggestion. Let us make the best of it." And with a polite nod, Lady Belinda turned to engage the young lady behind her in conversation, leaving Parthena standing in a sea of Lady Baldwin's guests.

"Right." Hands clasped before her, Parthena strode towards the opposite side of the terrace which faced a tall hedge and nothing else notable. She would pretend great interest in the myrtles before her while she gathered her thoughts.

Snatching a glass of lemonade from a passing servant, Parthena settled herself on a chair set just around the corner of the terrace. Confident she was hidden by the curve of the house, she lifted her feet and placed them on the balustrade and sipped her lemonade. Hopefully, she wouldn't be forced to apologize to the Duke of Wexham, likely a disfigured, priggish fop who would display nothing but horror at the thought of her chemise touching his breeches.

She looked about for somewhere to set the half-full glass of lemonade and decided the balustrade would work. No one was around to chastise her for doing so.

Thus far Lady Baldwin's little gathering was proving to be a mortifying experience. She vowed to keep herself contained for the duration or Mama might really send her off to wed Captain Rogers. She would spend the rest of her days married to a man who could only comfortably enjoy porridge at every meal.

Crossing her legs, Parthena cursed when the toe of her slipper nudged the lemonade just enough so that that the glass went tumbling over the balustrade and into the row of hedges below. Parthena sat back, eyes roaming left and right, relieved to see that she was far enough away, it was unlikely anyone had seen.

A growl sounded from below her, followed by a curse.

Apparently, this end of the terrace wasn't as deserted as Parthena had first thought. She fixed her gaze on the pond in the distance, squinting at the folly she could just make out on the other side.

A gentleman stepped out from the hedge, wiping off the shoulder of his coat. He bent and picked up the now empty glass before looking up at her.

"Does this belong to you?"

Parthena kept her focus on the folly and pretended she didn't see him. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of a head of coal-black curls and a magnificent pair of cheekbones, all atop an expensively dressed pair of broad shoulders.

I've ruined his coat to be sure.

She continued her perusal of the pond and folly and did not acknowledge him. Perhaps he wouldn't press further and just…wander off.

"Stop behaving as if you can't see me." He brushed another drop of lemonade from his coat. "I know that you can." He vanished from sight, which had Parthena's shoulders slump in relief.

Thank goodness he'd moved on.

"I'm still speaking to you." His lean form jogged up a set of stairs barely glimpsed from where she sat.

There was no help for it. She'd caused yet another incident. Parthena could only hope to convince this—she looked over at him— alarmingly handsome gentleman —not to report her to Lady Baldwin.

"Goodness, where did you come from, my lord? You startled me." Parthena placed a hand to her throat as if shocked by his abrupt appearance.

"Really?" He didn't sound convinced. "You didn't see me jumping about as you doused me with lemonade?" The glass was set down beside her.

"I—" she cast up her hands in surrender. "Very well. I inadvertently pushed my glass of lemonade off into the hedges. Accidentally. I suppose I've ruined your coat which looks incredibly expensive and fits you perfectly."

A dark brow raised at her.

"I won't be able to replace your coat. Your outrage will be wasted on me for I fear it won't be nearly as bad as that of the duke's whose trunk was attacked by mine earlier. I've only just arrived and two such incidents in such a short time guarantees I'll be asked to leave this gathering by Lady Baldwin and thus will not act as a foil tomorrow evening."

A half-smile crossed his lips as he regarded her from eyes the color of amber. A curious hue. Parthena's heart made an odd waffle in her chest.

"It was your trunk which attacked that of the duke's?"

"So you've heard of me."

"What do you think the other guests are whispering about, Miss Holm?"

She frowned at the use of her name. Unsettling to know it was being bandied around the terrace.

"Rather unkind of you to mention it. But a clumsy footman is the true villain here. I've expressed my regrets to Lady Baldwin, who insists I apologize to the duke for the entanglement of my things touching his. As if my slippers were begging for ruination by throwing themselves at Wexham's shirt." Parthena halted. "Excuse me. It is rude to speak so, but I find the entire insistence that I must apologize to be ridiculous in the extreme."

Sunlight turned his eyes to gold. "You do?"

Goodness. They resembled the honey Parthena had drizzled over her toast that morning.

"Well, yes. Wexham must be a terrible prig for Lady Baldwin to insist he would be insulted over such a minor thing. But he is a recluse."

"Is he?" He cupped his chin in one hand, leaning against the balustrade to watch her.

"Possibly there might also be something horrifying in his trunk that he wouldn't want others to see. Which would account for Lady Baldwin insisting he'd be offended. Gout medicine." Parthena tilted her head at him. "All dukes have gout. Spectacles, but those aren't so bad. Possibly a peg leg."

"A peg leg?" A burst of laughter filled the air around them, low and delicious, settling inside Parthena like the vibration of a cello.

"I am only theorizing." He was quite delightful, this gentleman. Not at all put off by her opinions. A rarity.

"You think the Duke of Wexham is a pirate?" He laughed again. "Because he does not venture out?"

"Or horribly disfigured. Why else would he hide at Wexham Park? He never ventures to London." She tapped her chin. "Protruding teeth, perhaps."

"Or a skin condition," he offered. "Possibly crossed eyes. Or only one eye. There may have been an eye-patch in the trunk."

"An excellent point." She smiled up at him. "I hadn't considered any of those." Good lord, but he was breathtaking, especially when a dimple appeared in his cheek. And clever. He also smelled of bergamot, which Parthena adored.

"Your logic is rather sound, Miss Holm." But he didn't answer whether he knew Wexham or not. "But you've not considered that the duke might not care for society. Or London. Perhaps he prefers the country."

"Are you acquainted with Wexham?" She hesitated. "My lord?' He hadn't introduced himself, so Parthena wasn't sure how to address him. Given his crisp accent and clothing, she assumed him to be a lord of some sort.

Footsteps sounded behind Parthena along with the rustle of silk skirts. She turned to see their hostess marching towards them with military precision. "Lady Baldwin must have seen me spill the lemonade. You should flee while you have the chance so as not to witness my chastisement."

Another small laugh came from him as that honeyed gaze trailed over Parthena. "You are most delightful, Miss Holm."

Warmth crept up her chest. No one ever declared her delightful. "An opinion not shared by others, my—"

"Your Grace," Lady Baldwin came to a stop, displeasure pulling at her lips, all of it directed at Parthena. "I see you've made the acquaintance of Miss Holm. What a happy coincidence. Have you apologized Miss Holm, for your earlier display?"

Parthena's stomach made an unsteady pitch. This was Wexham? Good Lord, she'd just spent the last several minutes insulting him. Not a sign of gout nor remotely ancient. "I—"

"A splendid apology, madam," Wexham answered smoothly. "But an unnecessary one. I assured Miss Holm that it was of no consequence. It wasn't as if a peg leg came tumbling out of my trunk." He tilted his chin in Parthena's direction, eyes twinkling in the sun as if made of gold.

She coughed, earning another scathing look from her hostess.

Parthena rose and fell into a clumsy curtsey. "Your Grace, it was a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Miss Holm," Wexham took her hand, the edge of his thumb trailing over her palm. The light touch sent a roar over Parthena's skin, so unexpected her breath caught. "The pleasure was mine."

She kept her chin lowered even after Wexham released her hand, not daring to raise her eyes. Her pulse was still fluttering as the last bit of bergamot floated to her nostrils, and Wexham disappeared with Lady Baldwin.