Chapter Eight

25 Curzon Street, Mayfair

London

The next morning

"A fter weeks of skies thicker than pea soup, today's sunshine feels like a royal decree from Queen Athena," exclaimed Lady Beadle, her cup of tea rattling with her excitement against its saucer. "I'm tempted to defy convention and venture outside without my parasol! It would be a perfect day to take a hamper and have a picnic."

Lizzie had just been thinking the same thing. It would be lovely to be out of the house. While she was elated about finding Simon and Josie, and bringing them to Edward's townhouse, selfishly, she had been disappointed not being able to spend the day with Edward, as they had planned. However, she would never comment on such a thing. Simon seemed to be a wonderful young boy and his puppy was clearly his best friend. The two were inseparable—and seemed to have their special language. She found herself looking forward to spending time with him. But today, she wished she could rub a magic lamp and see Edward walk through that door.

"Mrs. Pritchett, this just arrived for you from Lord Sinclair," Jenkins said, stepping into the breakfast room, extending his salver with a sealed note on it. "Lord Sinclair's footman is awaiting an immediate reply."

"Thank you, Jenkins," Lizzie said, lifting the note from the salver. With the footman waiting for a reply, could it be something about Michael's whereabouts? Her hands trembled slightly as she opened it.

"My nephew is coming to his senses," quipped Lady Beadle.

Lizzie smiled at the comment. When she opened the note, her eyes widened. She looked up, unable to believe what she was reading.

Dearest Lizzie,

I woke up today to rays of sunshine—a day too splendid to waste. It would be my honor if you would join me today for a picnic so that we might take advantage of what promises to be a sunny day.

I know it's short notice, but I would like to pick you up at 11:00 so that we might enjoy more of this sunny day together.

Yours,

Edward

P.S. Simon and Josie are settling in and are already being spoiled beyond measure by my cook and Mrs. Jones.

Lizzie smiled. "He's invited me on a picnic today—if you can spare me." She could scarcely contain the excitement in her voice.

"We have nothing so important planned that it couldn't allow you time to go on a delightful picnic with my handsome nephew," Lady Beadle said. "What time is he coming to call? Perhaps I'll have a chance to speak with Edward about how the boy is faring… Simon, did you say his name was?"

"Yes, his name is Simon, and Josie is his pup," Lizzie said with a smile. "I too am anxious to know how they are settling in, although Edward did mention in his note that Mrs. Jones and the cook are spoiling the boy and his dog beyond measure! He says he would like to call at eleven—only a little over an hour from now. I'd best reply." She turned to Jenkins. "Would a verbal response suffice?"

"I think it would, Mrs. Pritchett," Jenkins said, with a wry smile.

"Good. Tell him I would love to go," Lizzie said, pushing out her chair to leave.

Lady Beadle smiled. "Eleven o'clock. The boy's wasting no time today. You might consider changing into that buttercream muslin day dress. It's pretty on you with your blonde hair and green eyes."

Lizzie felt a blush heat her cheeks at the compliment. She hadn't taken such care with her appearance since she was being courted by Peter before their marriage. Having spent several years in America with so little funds, Lizzie had become practical in her clothing and hairstyle. She was fortunate indeed that Lady Beadle's generosity had afforded her the luxury of being able to wear pretty frocks, as well as having access to a maid who was skilled in the art of styling hair.

"It is a fine-looking dress and would be perfect for a picnic. Thank you, Millie." Lizzie fled up the stairs to her room. A soft tap at the door preceded the entrance of Lady Beadle's abigail, Doris.

"I've come to help you dress for your outing, Mrs. Pritchett. Lady Beadle wants you to look your best when Lord Sinclair arrives." The maid gave a gentle smile before walking to the armoire and pulling out the pale-yellow dress. "Lady Beadle asked me to have it pressed for you yesterday. My lady is always one step ahead of us," she said with a chuckle.

Doris's laughter was infectious. "Sometimes Lady Beadle feels like a fairy godmother," Lizzie said. It had been a long time since she'd had a mother figure in her life. She had grown to care deeply about Lady Beadle.

A few minutes later, Lizzie smoothed the skirt of her pretty gown, admiring the feel of the delicate material. She stepped over to the looking glass and fought the impulse to twirl. This was one of the colors Lady Beadle had insisted she try—and it looked attractive with her hair and eyes.

Doris deftly twisted her hair into two loose braids, weaving them together to form an elegant crown, tucking tiny, fresh blossoms into the corona, and teasing out a few curls to frame her face. She then handed a small looking glass to Lizzie, who marveled at her reflection.

"I love it, Doris," Lizzie murmured, her gaze fixed on her adorned visage. "You are a true talent. And you were right about the dress."

"It's a pleasure to style your hair, Mrs. Pritchett." Doris beamed. "It complements your complexion perfectly. But time is of the essence; Lord Sinclair will be here soon."

As Lizzie hurried toward the parlor, she caught Jenkins's voice as he greeted their guest at the door on the floor below. With a swift step, she entered the parlor, ready to receive Lord Sinclair.

Lady Beadle, with her customary elegance, said, "Lizzie, your smile could part even the most obstinate clouds to part, my dear." Her tone radiated sincerity. "Doris shall be your companion. Just take care not to lull her into too much comfort after dining, lest she observe with half-closed lids."

Edward entered the parlor.

"Sin, Lizzie told me about Simon and his puppy. I am most excited to meet the young chap and see how we can work to make him feel part of the fold," Lady Beadle said to her nephew.

"Thank you, Aunt Millie," Edward replied. "I knew I could count on your support. The poor lad has had a rough go of life thus far. We would like to make things better for him. Unfortunately, I must leave town for a short duration, and have left Kingsley to coordinate Simon's assignments. It makes me feel better to know you will be lending your assistance. I want him to feel his worth in the household and have left it to Kingsley and Mrs. Jones to determine what job he might perform."

"Of course. Please have them reach out to me if I can be of any assistance," his aunt said. "Perhaps I can have him over for luncheon—as an opportunity to meet him. Lizzie asked if she could help with his education until you can secure a tutor, and I am thrilled to allow her to be of assistance."

"You are most generous," Edward said. "I will leave it to you and Lizzie to make those arrangements but will let Kingsley know you plan to contact him."

"That's perfect, nephew. Thank you," Aunt Millie said, smiling broadly.

Lizzie grinned. Edward didn't realize it, but Lizzie suspected that Simon was going to have a grand day with his new "auntie."

As the carriage awaited, Edward stepped forward, offering his hand to assist Lizzie. A current tingled up her arm and spread an inviting warmth inside her. He also assisted Doris, ensuring her comfort on the opposite side of the carriage.

Lizzie was all aflutter. Taking a deep breath, she was relieved when Edward's deep voice, filled with warmth, broke the silence. "I thought we might picnic near one of the ponds on Hampstead Heath," he suggested, nodding toward the neatly packed picnic basket and blankets in the corner of the seat opposite them. "I asked Cook to prepare a special luncheon for us. Perhaps we could take a ramble after the picnic."

"I confess, I had not anticipated spending this afternoon with you, my lord," Lizzie said. "This will be a delightful way to spend the day."

A man and woman on beautiful mounts trotted past the carriage on Lizzie's side, and she stared after them.

"Do you ride?" Edward asked.

Lizzie looked at him in surprise. "Are we to ride this afternoon, my lord?"

"Not today—but I wondered if it is something you might enjoy. I don't believe we've ever discussed it," he said.

"I do ride, but it's been many years since I've sat a horse. Peter and I used to ride occasionally when we first moved to the colonies. We would borrow a mare from the neighbor for me to ride. And I confess, I never really enjoyed the sidesaddle that I was made to use in England."

"So, you ride astride?" he blurted.

She blushed. "I do. It's how I learned. Occasionally, I would ride when I visited my grandfather's estate. My Uncle Robert was usually there. He was a late surprise for my grandparents and six years older than me. I wanted to ride, so he taught me, and I'm afraid he taught me to ride astride. We would go all over Grandpapa's estate. After I learned, I always rode astride. When Father found out I was riding like a hoyden, as he referred to it, he insisted on proper instruction in ladylike riding." She chuckled. "Yet, I must confess, I find riding astride more to my liking; it grants me a sense of command. But now that I am back in England, I suppose I should ride sidesaddle, or risk shocking the ton —but I warn you, it is under protest." She winked.

Amusement glinted in his eyes. "That makes sense. I'm not sure I would tolerate riding a sidesaddle, myself."

She laughed and shook her head. "Goodness, it's been a long time since I've given those visits to Grandpapa any thought. I think I was eight. And the visits were sporadic over about three years."

"Was this on your mother's side?" Edward asked.

"Yes. It never mattered to me, since once Grandpapa died, they never contacted us. I don't think we were considered part of the family. The only thing I recall was that the family estate was in Lancashire. It's been so long, and he died many years ago, that my memory is somewhat vague on the details. Mama never heard from her older brother. And then, of course, both she and father passed from an ague."

"So, you are the granddaughter of an earl?" he asked.

"Yes, although the family wanted nothing to do with my mother or father. My father was the son of a merchant and became a vicar because of his true calling to serve the Lord. He was not the typical second or third son of a peer, and when my mother married, she did so after being forbidden by my grandfather. Society no longer accepted her—and by association, my brother and me. When Grandpapa had made peace with the marriage and with my father, he found my mother, and things seemed better for a while."

"How sad for your mother," Edward murmured.

"However, when Grandpapa died, the visits ended. We never heard from them when my uncle became earl," she said, her voice tinged with sadness. "It's something I don't think about. And the lineage wouldn't have mattered where Peter's family was concerned. They were angry and disappointed that their son would marry the daughter of a vicar, whose family owned a mercantile. They had higher aspirations for their son. And I have no aspirations to be a part of a Society that has cast me aside twice."

Lizzie screwed her face up. "Let's just concentrate on today. You told me that any day now you could be called away. It's just nice to spend time together."

"I feel the same way about spending time with you," Edward said. He looked across at Doris. "Doris, I hope you don't mind, but I've had my cook prepare two picnics. One of the baskets is for you and the footmen to share."

Doris blinked a few times, seeming to rouse herself from a semi-dozing state. "Oh, thank you, my lord. That was very thoughtful."

She would probably be asleep within minutes of eating, Lizzie thought with a smile. Not that they planned to do anything more than talk after they ate, but it would lend them privacy. When they were in America, they had been alone for weeks, day and night. She had gotten used to sitting by his bedside, even falling asleep next to his bed. But by the time she realized her feelings for him, he was on the mend, and it was time for him to leave. She had missed him.

Edward lifted the shade and glanced outside. "We're here," he said, tapping the ceiling of the coach. "This is the pond that Wright and I always race to, and it has a splendid view of the lush meadows down the hill. I believe they named it Wood Pond, perhaps for the wooded area that surrounds it. But this is the uppermost pond."

"It is lovely," agreed Lizzie, looking out the window. Not only was the sun shining, but they had a respite from the ever-present chill that had been part and parcel of the constant, never-ending rain. It was truly a perfect day for a picnic.

Titus set the step and opened the door to the carriage. "My lord, let me know where you'd like the picnic set up."

Edward stepped from the carriage and assisted Lizzie and then Doris. "I've always liked the slight incline of this spot. It allows us to see the pond and the meadows that surround it. I believe that may be the perfect spot for our picnic."

A few minutes later, they were seated beneath the sprawling canopy of majestic oak trees, resting upon a plush blanket amidst a carpet of vibrant wildflowers. Before them, the tranquil water shimmered in the sunlight, billowy clouds reflected on the placid surface.

Tall grasses and reeds bordered the water's edge, guarding a cluster of delicate lily pads that danced on the surface, tickled by the gentle breeze. Lizzie swept her gaze across the picturesque landscape, taking in the tapestry of wooded groves interspersed among fields adorned with an array of blossoms. Goldenrod painted the scene with sunny hues. Wild asters unfolded their charming blue petals and contrasted with the cheerful pink and white blooms of Michaelmas daisies. "This is simply enchanting, Edward," she murmured, her voice barely louder than the rustle of leaves in the trees.

"I thought you would enjoy it," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it, but not letting it go.

"I've never seen anything as beautiful," she said, noticing that Doris had fallen asleep across the field under a neighboring oak tree, having eaten her fill of lunch—a delicious repast of cold meats, cheeses, grapes, and wine.

"I have," he said, pulling her close and tilting her chin up to meet his gaze. Slowly, he lowered his mouth and placed tender kisses along the column of her neck, moving up to her mouth, capturing her lips with his.

Lizzie delighted in his touch. As their tongues intertwined, she felt a rush of longing, and memories flooded her senses—memories of feelings that had begun to blossom in her heart as she nursed him through the yellow jack. She closed her eyes and basked in his masculine scent of leather, sandalwood, and citrus and the feel of his strong arms around her. At that moment, Lizzie realized her attachment to him had started the night she answered her door.

He cradled her face in his big hands, gazing at her with the same intensity as the day he departed from her life. "Lizzie, you are special and beautiful. After I left to search for my friend's son, I spent my days cursing myself for not taking you with me and my nights dreaming of you. Though our chance encounter at Celia's ball stands as the luckiest moment in my life, I was determined to find you. I would have spared no effort, scouring every corner of England and Wales until you were found."

Edward looked up at the sky. "I think we might be losing our sunny day to rain." He pointed to the darker clouds beginning to take shape above them. "We should get back before we find ourselves as wet as the pond."

She straightened her clothing and nodded in Doris's direction. "She's not moved since she finished her meal."

"We shall remember that for next time," Edward said with a wink.

They hurried to pack the basket and fold the blanket, just as Titus appeared. "I shall load this into the carriage, my lord, Mrs. Pritchett."

"I'll rouse Doris," Lizzie said, her voice carrying the warmth of the afternoon sun. She turned to Edward. "Thank you," she whispered, her hand tenderly grazing his cheek. "Whenever I conjure the image of the perfect afternoon in the future, it will always mirror the beauty and joy of today."