Chapter Sixteen
Epping Forest
Essex
Lexington and Basil rode along the banks of the River Lea, where the water sparkled beneath the sun and curved like a silver ribbon between the wooded borders of Middlesex and Essex.
The well-worn path wound through dense forest, the dappled light flickering over their mounts as they trotted side by side.
They knew every inch of this land. Since boyhood, they’d roamed these trails on horseback, climbing trees, playing king of the castle, dueling with sticks, and staging elaborate battles between knights and highwaymen.
As they grew older, imaginary swords gave way to rifles and pistols.
They’d learned to hunt, to shoot, to track.
And they’d raced—endlessly raced—through open fields and wooded glens, as though their futures depended on it.
However, lately, these rides had taken on a more serious purpose.
Ever since that cur Hammond had boasted about hiring a retired regiment of Scots Greys to sniff out the elusive Lace Bandit, Lex had considered it his duty to keep watch.
It wasn’t just pride—it was principle. These woods bordered his lands, and it was his responsibility to protect the peace of his earldom, as well as the tenant farmers, villagers, travelers, and tradesmen who relied on its safety.
His concern about the Lace Bandit was nothing compared to his swirling thoughts about Edwina.
“I tell you, Basil, I’m at my wits’ end,” Lex muttered, breaking the companionable silence. “My mind is in a constant muddle over the little chit.”
“You haven’t heard a word?”
“Not so much as a syllable. It’s as if we’d never met. I don’t know what to make of it.”
Nearly five days had passed since his return from London. He had sent a longer, more personal note to Edwina, hoping she’d reply. But nothing. And between conferring with his estate manager, handling legal matters, and putting out metaphorical fires, he’d had little time to dwell on it—until now.
“I’ve been giving the matter some thought,” Basil said, “and an idea came to me.”
“Do tell. I’ll take any help I can get.”
“A foxhunt.”
Lex gave him a look. “Have you gone completely mad? How is chasing a fox going to convince Lady Sinclair to marry me?”
Basil smirked. “Because it won’t just be a foxhunt. I intend to host a weekend gathering at Du Priest Manor, featuring dancing, games, and riding. I’ll extend an invitation to Lady Sinclair, and her grandmother and Charles as chaperones.”
Lex arched a brow. “You’d go to such trouble and expense for me?”
“I would. But it’s not only for you. I, too, must soon face the gallows of matrimony,” Basil said with a dramatic sigh. “My mother is aging and eager for me to secure our family’s legacy. And while I’ve dragged my feet on the matter, I know it’s my duty.”
Lex gave a rueful chuckle. “So, Dove-Lyon got to you, too?”
“She gave me some surprisingly sound advice, actually.” Basil’s eyes twinkled. “Though I’ll admit, her methods are not for the faint of heart.”
“Well, I hope her advice works better for you than her matchmaking did for me.”
Basil laughed and clapped Lex on the back. “Don’t surrender just yet, my friend.”
Lex’s expression softened. “Whatever happens, our friendship is one thing I know I can count on. And you’ve always stood by me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”
“Our friendship was forged in tree branches and bloody noses,” Basil said. “Speaking of which—I want to show you something. I found a hidden bend in the river, a proper swimming hole. After the dreary winter we’ve had, this sun’s too tempting to waste.”
Lex grinned. “You surprise me. I thought we’d explored every inch of this forest.”
“Apparently not. Come on—this way.”
As they rode toward the river, Lex’s mind drifted to a memory. “Remember when those bullies nicked our trousers during that swim behind the dormitory?”
Basil barked a laugh. “Do I ever. We wrapped ourselves in leaf kilts and hid until the entire hall was at supper.”
“And then we exacted our revenge by locking them out of their rooms after they snuck off to carouse with the town strumpet.”
“Poetic justice,” Basil said, shaking his head fondly. “Nothing more satisfying than putting bullies in their place.”
An hour later, Lex lay in the sun-dappled grass beside the river, his body relaxed and still damp from the cool water.
The peaceful setting lulled him—but his mind wandered elsewhere.
He imagined what it would be like to swim naked with Edwina, to pull her into his arms, her body slick and glistening against his.
He could almost hear her laughter, feel her sighs, taste her kiss as they made love in the clearing.
Perhaps Basil was right. A weekend at Du Priest Manor might offer him the time and privacy he needed to show Edwina his true intentions—and put her fears to rest.
“Basil,” Lex said, rolling to his side, “I’d like to bring Teresa for this weekend of yours.”
“Of course. I’d be delighted. Tess must be, what—nearly eighteen?”
“Yes. She and Mama return tomorrow from their year in Scotland.”
Tess had never once complained about the family’s inability to afford a Season.
Instead, she’d embraced the time with relatives, and in her letters described the wild Scottish hills, the quiet lochs, and the hours spent sketching nature.
She was a gifted artist. Lex longed to help her build a future that let her share that talent with the world—but first, he had to stabilize the family’s finances.
“She’s grown into a clever, gracious young woman,” he said. “She deserves a brilliant match—someone who sees her worth and won’t try to dim her light.”
“She was always sharp as a tack,” Basil said. “I recall her trailing us like a shadow, dragging around that sketchpad.”
“Still does.” Lex chuckled. “Only now her fingers are permanently stained with charcoal.”
“Then I look forward to seeing her again,” Basil said, grinning. “As long as she washes her hands before dinner.”
Lex laughed, the tension of the day lifting slightly from his shoulders. “That’s never guaranteed.”
Winnie bit into her scone and took a slow sip of tea.
The daylight beyond the mullioned windows had begun its gentle descent into evening, gilding the garden hedges in a warm amber glow.
It had been a splendid day, unmarred by clouds or worry.
Her morning ride on Masquerade had left her breathless with joy—his hooves sure beneath her, his energy tempered yet proud.
There was a soothing rhythm to life again, a comforting routine that had settled over Wiltshire House since their return from London.
Charles had returned to Bethnal Green several days ago, sending word that he’d traveled in the company of Lord Capel and Lord du Priest. He hadn’t explained how that had come about, and while she was certainly curious, Winnie had not dared ask.
Had Lex run into Charles by chance? Or had he come looking for her?
Her thoughts were interrupted by the quiet entrance of the butler. He crossed the parlor with a silver tray bearing a sealed envelope.
“Your ladyship,” Gerald said with a bow, “this has just arrived for you and Lady Edwina.”
Felicia took the envelope and laid it delicately in her lap. “Thank you, Gerald.”
With another bow, he departed.
Felicia studied the envelope, turning it between gloved fingers. “Well. Someone’s gone to a great deal of trouble. Thick vellum, heavy wax, and a rather impressive seal.” She held it up toward the candlelight. “Not one I recognize.”
Winnie leaned in, brows drawn. “It looks like the du Priest crest.”
Felicia retrieved her tortoiseshell spectacles from their shagreen case and perched them on the bridge of her nose. She broke the seal and unfolded the parchment. “Indeed. We are invited, in a fortnight, to a house party at Du Priest Manor. There will be various entertainments. And a foxhunt.”
Winnie froze.
Felicia glanced up, her expression neutral but observant. “Did you not mention this marquess as a friend of your earl?”
“He is not my earl,” Winnie said, perhaps too sharply.
“No?” Felicia’s eyes twinkled. “I believe he was almost yours. Until you disappeared like Cinderella at midnight.”
Winnie gave a tight smile and stirred her tea unnecessarily.
“In any case,” her grandmother went on, “Charles is also invited. And I find I am rather intrigued by this man with the eyes the color of a summer sky…”
Heat flooded Winnie’s cheeks. There was no point in arguing. Her grandmother would attend with or without her, and truthfully, part of her wanted—needed—to see Lex again. To explain. To apologize. To…
Dare she tell him about being the Lace Bandit? Her instincts told her she could trust him, but did she have the strength to deal with his rejection after she told him?
You ninny, you were the one who left London without a word to Lex, and now you are worried about him rejecting you?
God, what was she going to do?
She’d never considered herself a coward, yet her departure from London had been hasty, impulsive, and, in retrospect, craven.
She had fled not only from Lex but from the depth of her own feelings.
The earl had unsettled her in a way no man ever had.
At night, his memory invaded her thoughts.
The feel of his touch, the warmth of his breath against her skin—it haunted her.
In the stillness of her bed, she longed for him with an ache that felt carved from her very bones.
Felicia reached out and patted her hand. “I’m glad you’re not protesting this invitation. I do so enjoy when we see things eye to eye.”
Winnie smiled softly, but Felicia’s expression shifted, turning tender with emotion.
“I know I can be sharp-tongued and stubborn,” Felicia said, her voice thickening, “but everything I do, I do for you. After losing my darling son, your mother, and dear Bennet… Well, it nearly broke me. If not for you, Edwina, and my desire to see you safe, happy, and well loved, I might have given up entirely.”
Winnie’s throat closed. She set her teacup down and leaned forward, wrapping her arms around the older woman in a warm, fierce embrace.
“Please don’t ever say such a thing again,” she whispered. “You are my rock. My shield. My home. And I love you. Even when I’m difficult—and I know I often am—I only want to make you proud.”
Felicia sniffled, holding her tightly. “You already have, my dear girl. You are brave, and brilliant, and maddening at times, yes—but you are everything good that this family still has. And you carry all our lost ones with you, whether you realize it or not.”
They sat together in silence for a long moment, bound by love and shared loss.
Winnie leaned back slowly, blinking away her own tears.
She had grieved deeply when her parents and brother died.
But until this moment, she hadn’t truly seen her grandmother’s grief.
The quiet weight of it. How hard it must have been for Felicia to know that she would outlive her son and grandson.
The strength it had taken for her to carry such a burden…
It struck Winnie like a bell tolling in her chest that perhaps it was time—past time—to stop hiding from her future. To begin shaping it instead.
Whatever the next few weeks held, one thing was clear—she could not remain in this uncertain limbo. She owed her family more than grief. She owed them a legacy—and herself a chance at happiness.