Chapter 12

CHAPTER TWELVE

E dmund fell silent for a while, walking at Isolde's side though keeping a polite distance between them. His expression was blank, harboring none of the usual coldness in his eyes, his mouth less grimly set than normal.

Figuring that that was to be the end of their discussion, Isolde concentrated on finding the barrow boy, who had just disappeared behind some tall bushes in the distance.

At the same moment, she realized that the winding path she walked upon, cutting through the verdant grass like a stream, would take her right past a group of ladies who appeared to be in the midst of a charming picnic. She noted glasses of cloudy lemonade, condensation trickling most temptingly down the sides: the perfect refreshment for such a hot day, and the perfect cure for Amelia's dizziness.

Even more fortunately, the ladies enjoying the picnic were gawping at Edmund.

"Can you—" she began, but he was already talking.

"Forgive me, but I—oh, my apologies. Do speak first."

Isolde waved a dismissive hand. "No, you go first."

And it rather sounds like I am about to receive an apology… She thought of his hasty apology the previous evening, upon their return to the townhouse. He had spoken so gently, so meaningfully, that she had been too stunned to savor the contrition. And at the very moment where she had recovered enough to thank him or assure him that he was not at fault, he had marched off.

"I could not help overhearing something you said," Edmund continued. "You mentioned something about appeasing your mother and brother, and doing so with some swiftness. I… Well, I was under the impression that your mother and brother wished you to take your time, and you were the one rushing headfirst into ill-fated possibilities."

Isolde laughed drily. "Then, you were mistaken. Do you think I would take an audience with so many callers in such a short span of days because I enjoy it? Actually, let me put it more plainly, do you think it was me who invited so many gentlemen to call upon me?"

Edmund furrowed his brow, sweeping a hand through his sleek mane of silky, warm brown hair. "I do not know."

At least he was being honest.

"Well, I do know my duty. I know why I was thrown into endless lessons with endless tutors, to teach me frivolous, silly, often ridiculous things about being a ‘proper lady' while my sisters have suffered no such fate," Isolde said, pausing on the path a fair distance from the picnicking ladies, far enough that no one would overhear.

"I know what is expected of me. I have known since I turned three-and-ten," she said, hating the slight tremble in her voice. "I am the eldest daughter, I set the example, I cannot afford to make any mistakes, and I cannot afford to find a less than perfect match. I am charting the course for my sisters after me. I am stamping down the weeds and briars so that they have a smoother path to their own futures. They do not even have to marry if they do not want to, as long as I am married, as long as I have made a fine allegiance between my family and another excellent family of impeccable standing, to keep our family twice as secure." She paused, watching some movement of feeling flicker across Edmund's face. "My burden is to take a burden from my brother, and that burden is me."

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, saying nothing, observing her as if he was looking at a curio in a museum, trying to make sense of it. All the while, Isolde's face grew hotter under his intense gaze, until she worried she had said too much. Truthfully, she did not know why she had said all that at all; it had simply blurted out of her.

A minute or so later, she could not bear it anymore. "Please ask those ladies having the picnic if you can ‘borrow' a glass of lemonade. Ensure you only ask for one, or they will likely give you every glass they have with them, and we shall end up repeating the unpleasantness of the Montrose's garden party. Glass everywhere."

He squinted at her with that same confused look, and wandered off toward the picnickers without a word, leaving her to fan her face furiously in his absence.

It is Edmund, for pity's sake! What are you blushing for? She wished she could walk over to the Serpentine that glittered in the distance and dive right into the cool waters, for she doubted anything else would work to cool the feverish feeling in her face.

Giddy giggles exploded from behind her, but she did not turn to look. She did not want to see those young ladies falling all over themselves to please Edmund, nor see how he might flirt back if he chose to.

Instead, she turned her attention back to her mother and her two friends. Amelia still sat on the ground in the shade of the tree, her shoulders hunched, her chin to her chest. Valery continued to fan Amelia with ferocious vigor, while Isolde's mother had sat down next to Amelia and appeared to be talking to her.

As such, she did not hear Edmund approach until he was right beside her, holding not one but two glasses of the appealing lemonade. And in one hand, too, drawing her attention to how masculine his hands were. Capable hands. Strong hands.

"I took the liberty of getting a spare, in case your mother or your other friend are also feeling faint in this ferocious heat," he said flatly.

She blinked at him. "But I gave you strict instructions."

"And I chose to use greater initiative," he replied as if it were nothing. "Shall we?"

Isolde nodded, too bewildered to speak.

Edmund, however, had never been more verbose, and as they neared the plane tree where Amelia sat, he had one last thing to say to Isolde. "While I have the opportunity, I would like to apologize for my conduct yesterday." He handed her one of the full glasses, his fingertips brushing hers as he did so. "I am sorry that I saw your ankle. Rest assured, I have erased it from my memory."

He pressed on ahead of her, leaving her once again in the height of the summer afternoon heat with an unexpected case of sudden fever that swept from the crown of her head to the tips of her toes. A warmth so fierce that she almost took a sip of the lemonade to try and coax it away.

By the time she remembered that she was meant to be back with her friends, and she had rushed forward to see how Amelia was faring, the furious blush had not remotely eased.

"My darling," Isolde's mother cried, hurrying to open out her parasol. "You have caught the sun! Come, you must stand under this before you are covered in freckles!"

Isolde swallowed thickly, her mother's words only making her face burn brighter. For she knew that the obvious redness had nothing to do with the summer sunshine and everything to do with the stern-faced man who stood guard over the ladies, refusing to look in her direction.

It did not take long for Amelia to recover from the sudden dizziness that had overwhelmed her, though Edmund suspected that she would have recovered much quicker if Isolde, Valery, and Julianna had not been crowding her and fussing over her so much. It had taken every shred of willpower he possessed to hold his tongue, for it had already gotten him into trouble and could not be trusted.

Why did I say that to her? He was still kicking himself, even as the trio of ladies began to walk again, making their way back to the carriages. Isolde did not mention it. She likely would never have mentioned it. She will think you were teasing her, and that can only make your task harder!

He had meant the apology, but it had not come out as he had hoped. To his own ears, it had sounded like mockery or a desire to torment Isolde.

"I shall catch up to you!" he called out, needing a moment to clear his head. And with the two empty glasses in his possession once more, both enjoyed by all three women, he had the perfect excuse.

Isolde did not turn or acknowledge him at all.

Julianna, on the other hand, whirled around. "Where are you going? What if Miss Thorne collapses again?"

"She is in capable hands," Edmund replied, gesturing to the group of ladies who were still enjoying their picnic in the beautiful summer afternoon. "I must return what I borrowed. I shall not be long."

Julianna smiled. "Very well. Do try not to make them all fall in love with you."

At that, Edmund thought he saw Isolde's shoulders stiffen slightly. Shaking it off as nonsense, or the tremor of a concealed snort from her, he headed in the direction of the other ladies, already dreading the interaction.

"You were so heroic, Your Grace!" one lady chirped as Edmund bowed to the women and handed back the glass.

Another woman nodded eagerly. "Such a chivalrous gentleman. I wish that every gentleman in society were as chivalrous as you."

"We thought, perhaps, you were using the need for a glass of lemonade as an excuse to make our acquaintance," a bolder lady teased, fanning herself as she made sultry eyes at him.

He straightened up, ignoring the remarks as best he could. It was not their fault that they did not know they were wasting their efforts, for it was not as if he had announced to the Ton that he was not, and would never be, in want of a wife.

"The only heroism was from Lady Isolde," he said bluntly. "She was the one who noticed that you had glasses you might be willing to lend to a good cause. Nevertheless, I thank you for your part in helping a young lady in distress."

The brazen woman who had teased him canted her head, eyes narrowing in curiosity. "Are you courting?"

"Pardon?" An odd lump formed in Edmund's throat.

"You and Lady Isolde—are you courting?"

Edmund laughed uncomfortably. "Not in the slightest. I am merely assisting a dear friend—her brother—by watching over her in his absence. It is an assignment not a pleasure."

The woman took a ripe, plump strawberry and plucked the green top off it. "Are you certain of that?"

"Quite certain," he insisted.

She shrugged her narrow shoulders, her smiled tinged with mischief as she softly said, "Well, Your Grace, you could have fooled me."