Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Edmund stroked his chin. He could not stop thinking about Rose. She was bold, stubborn, amusing without realizing it, and quite challenging. All in all, he found her most unsettling.
“You must keep control of yourself,” he said, staring at himself in the mirror.
As he looked at his reflection, he wondered where all the years had gone.
It seemed like only yesterday he was a boy hanging upside down from a branch, and sometimes it was as if he was going to wake up from a dream and find that all of this had been an illusion.
But such a thing would never happen, no matter how desperately he clung to his youth.
As Edmund exited the room, his butler, George, was waiting for him with a warm towel. Edmund lowered his head, and George pressed the towel to his cheeks.
“Where would you like to take breakfast this morning, Your Grace?” George said in his dour tone.
“In my study,” Edmund said after a moment’s consideration.
“There is much to be done today,” he added, planning to focus on paperwork and accounts rather than thinking about a pair of bright eyes, the smile that threatened to break through a cloud of frustration, or the oddly captivating way she followed her instincts in a headstrong manner.
George bowed and turned on his heels, the men heading in opposite directions. Edmund arranged some of his papers and hummed a cheerful tune when George arrived with some tea, two sausages, scrambled eggs, and buttered toast.
“This is delightful,” Edmund said.
George stood beside the door, his hands clasped behind his back, his posture ramrod straight.
“Are there any arrangements you wish for me to make, Your Grace?” he asked.
Edmund chewed on a bit of sausage. It was flavored with herbs. He made a mental note to ask the cook to make more of them.
“I am not entirely sure. I don’t suppose you have any ideas on where to take a lady on a promenade?
” he asked. George’s gaze flashed toward him for a moment.
There probably wasn’t room in the butler’s life for such a thing, and if there was, it was probably a gentle, tranquil romance that brought him nothing but comfort.
And such a thing seemed boring to Edmund.
“I am afraid not, Your Grace. Although if you do seek my opinion, there is the estate’s lake. It seems to me that it might be the kind of place that is associated with romance.”
Edmund stared at George.
“Perhaps I have underestimated you, George.”
“Your Grace?”
“Never mind.” Edmund leaned back and idly passed his fork through the eggs, turning them around and around before eating them, as if they weren’t scrambled already.
“The lake,” he mused. “It has been a while since I was there, and I do have so very many fond memories.”
His mind drifted away, remembering how his parents used to take him, Lydia, and Charlotte out to the lake.
“Come, Edmund, put your back into it. This will make a man of you,” his father shouted.
They were in a rowboat while his mother and sisters waited on the bank of the lake, resting on a picnic blanket.
Edmund was a boy, but even with his youthful vigor, he felt the strain.
Sweat popped on his head, and it felt as though his arms were being pulled from their sockets.
The water was clear, shimmering as sunlight danced on its surface. Edmund exhaled deeply with every pull of the oar. The water looked gentle at first glance, but it was strong and seemed to resist him.
“I thought you said this would be fun,” he grunted, blinking away sweat from his eyes.
His father grinned impishly. Edmund did not know it at the time, but he would grow to resemble his father in so many ways.
“This is fun! This is what life is about: testing yourself against nature. We must best this water, because if we fail, then we will have to stay out here and eventually drown.”
“We could swim.”
“Do you think you could swim with your arms as sore as they are? And what about the others? Do you think they’re going to wait for us through the night? And that’s not to mention the creature that lurks at the bottom of the lake,” he widened his eyes and spoke with an ominous tone.
Edmund furrowed his brow.
“That’s just a story,” he said.
“Is it?” his father countered. Edmund was sure it was, because it didn’t make any sense that a great leviathan was living in the lake. However, he still peered over the side of the boat and looked warily into the water. A shadow passed beneath, and fear shuddered through him.
The possibility was enough to strike fear into his heart.
He gathered his strength and continued rowing.
“There will come a time when this is second nature to you, and you will not even have to stop to catch your breath,” his father said.
They were making a lap of the lake. Lydia was running along beside the lake, waving with both her hands and cheering them on, while Charlotte and their mother were looking at various plants.
“It’s moments like these that you need to cherish, Edmund.
I know you’re too young to understand it now, but these are the moments that are fleeting in life.
The ones you spend with your family are the most important.
One day you look around, and you will think to yourself that you’re the luckiest man in the world. ”
“Are the eggs not to your liking, Your Grace?” George asked, his insistence evident as concern crossed his face.
Edmund was shaken from his private reverie. Memories of his parents often came without warning and shook him to his core. He was ten years removed from their deaths now, but the shock was still the same.
“Of course they are, I was just thinking… the lake you say, well,” Edmund mused, bringing the fork to his mouth. The eggs were light and fluffy, with a hint of peppery seasoning and butter. He paused while he chewed, only speaking again when he swallowed.
“That is a fine idea, George, a fine idea indeed, but perhaps not the right location for Lady Rose.”
“Is she not fond of the water, Your Grace?”
She’s not fond of me, Edmund thought, and allowed himself a wry smile.
“I don’t believe she would enjoy being in a boat with me. I think she might prefer to have steady ground beneath her feet,” Edmund said.
Although really, he was thinking about the rules she had set, and the ones he imposed upon himself. This was just supposed to be a mindless distraction after all, a means for him to fritter away some afternoons and give people the illusion that he was actually contemplating marriage.
But if they went to the lake, they would be secluded, especially if they rowed onto the water. Besides, she might ask about his childhood memories, and the thought of showing these innermost glimpses of himself seemed dreadfully sentimental.
Frankly, it was enough to make him shudder.
It had to be public and proper, so he wouldn’t be forced into a situation where they were close again, where the beguiling nature of her eyes overwhelmed him, and the pretty bow of her lips beckoned him to... he stabbed his fork into the last piece of sausage and chewed it angrily.
“Do you have any idea why work has to be so utterly boring? All of these figures should be interesting enough to hold my attention,” Edmund muttered.
“I am not entirely sure, Your Grace. I suppose it is a cross one in your position must bear.”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” Edmund sighed. “Oh, if only you could swap places with me for a day, George, you would be amazed at how difficult things can be. There is just so much to think about,” Edmund turned away from his breakfast plate, and his work, and moved to the window.
“Indeed, I would not dare imagine it, Your Grace,” George said as he moved to the desk and lifted the tray, picking up flecks of eggs that had escaped the fork and lingered on the surface of the desk. George pulled out his handkerchief and wiped the desk down before placing it back in his pocket.
Edmund wrung his hands together and pursed his lips.
He shook his head and wondered how he had gotten himself into this situation.
It was that damnable Lord Whitcombe’s fault.
If it had been any man other than him, then Edmund wouldn’t have felt the need to intervene.
But still, the deed had been done, and now he had to live with it, and hope that the aggravation he would avoid from people nagging him about marriage would make up for the frustrating presence of Rose in his life.
Now, there was someone who needed to learn to relax and enjoy quiet moments. She seemed so tense, he was surprised she didn’t snap like brittle ice.
Suddenly, a thought struck him.
“George, tomorrow I shall be taking Lady Rose to the Royal Academy in the morning. Please make arrangements with the footmen and have a suitable outfit ready for me. If there are any appointments, cancel them. I am sure they will understand that my future must take precedence,” he said, allowing himself a wolfish smile.
Dry meetings could be postponed, or he could get dear Alfred to handle them. Either way, he could stroll through paintings and keep a distance between them. There would be no dangerous moment where they stood close together, for only ruin lay that way.
“As you wish, Your Grace. Is there anything else I can do for you?” George asked.
“No, no, I suppose I shall have to knuckle down and get on with work. It isn’t going to take care of itself.”
“Indeed, it is not, Your Grace,” George said, and backed out of the room, carrying his tray.
Edmund returned to the desk and casually shuffled the documents in front of him. The numbers danced before his eyes, and the words started to swirl around. He took a deep breath and puffed out his cheeks as he exhaled, then leaned back and tapped his fingers on the desk.
Edmund was the kind of man who could make a minute’s work last an hour.
“What is it about you that vexes me so much?” he muttered, thinking about Rose.
His mind turned not to the moment where the air glinted with intimacy, but just before that, when the dog escaped from Rose’s sight.
She seemed deeply moved by the animal and had looked utterly crestfallen when it disappeared.
Any affection in her heart must have been reserved for those poor, defenseless creatures of the world.
He thought about the matter some more, and then, with an itch at the base of his neck, he got up from his chair and strode out of the room. He saw George polishing silverware. The butler greeted him with an inquisitive raise of his eyebrow.
“Yes, Your Grace?” he asked.
“There is something else that I would like you to look into. It is a minor matter and probably not worth bothering with, but I think I ought to… Would you mind sending someone to inquire about a stray dog?”
“A dog? I have seen no dog here, Your Grace,” George said, offended at the thought that something might have escaped his attention. He scanned the floor and narrowed his gaze, as though the presence of any intruder was a personal affront.
“No, there’s no dog here, George. We’re quite safe. Actually, it would be around Green Park. Perhaps someone could ask the park keeper or people who live in the neighboring houses,” he said, and then offered a description of the dog.
“Because it could be a danger to them,” George nodded. Edmund noticed that he had turned the fork in his hand, wielding it like a weapon if anything should attack him.
“Quite,” Edmund said, leaving the butler to his own strange little fears. He left the room puzzled. It probably wouldn’t amount to anything, but, well, if there was news of the dog, then it might allay Rose’s worries, not that he knew why he wanted to do such a thing either.
He trudged back to his study and forced himself to focus on work. He didn’t want to think of the lake, or his parents, or a stray dog, or a stubborn young lady who was proving to be more trouble than he anticipated.
‘You always do make things complicated for yourself, Edmund,’ his mother had once told him when he’d gotten himself tied up in knots while trying to climb a tree.
It was true then, and it was true now.
But at least he only had four promenades to go.