“As intolerable as it may be, that does not change the facts of the matter, my darling friend. There is nothing to be done, save do your best to enjoy your time in the country as much as you can.”
“And a fat lot of good that will do me.” Eliza snorted and shook her head. “At least let me copy down the riddle your grandfather left for you, so that I may occupy my mind with thoughts of trying to solve it this summer, rather than thoughts of how I might resolve things with the Duchess of Elkington and her family.”
“That I can most certainly do for you.”
Matilda patted Eliza’s hand and the two of them retreated indoors so that Eliza could copy the riddle and take it with her when she retired to Ashbrook for the summer.
* * *
ASHBROOK, LATE AUGUST 1812
Miss Eliza Wingfield sat on a lounge chair in the garden, attempting and failing to read. For the life of her, she could not keep her mind on the book in her hands, nor on the riddle she'd brought along when she retired to the country for the summer.
Hoofbeats in the distance had pulled her gaze away from the text, and catching sight of the passing rider had made her think about that day in the Park when the Duke of Elkington had saved her life. That day would be burned into her memory forever, she feared. It plagued her dreams. Hoofbeats, the ground shaking, and the terror she'd felt as the massive animal bore down on her and she’d frozen, unable to move.
And then her whole world turned, its axis shifting as the Duke of Elkington wrapped his strong, warm arms around her and hauled her out of harm's way. Why? Why did she have to be burdened with the intimate knowledge of what it felt like to be cradled in his arms when he'd been so cold and distant the last time they saw one another before the Season ended?
Eliza let her book drop into her lap with a disgusted sigh. Focus was surely a lost cause with His Grace's face and the memory of his warmth and his scent haunting her thoughts. Soon, they would return to London, perhaps even next week.
"What on earth are you doing out in the garden, Eliza? You are going to catch a chill. Come indoors this instant."
Her mother, the Viscountess of Gainsbourne called from the terrace, scowling and bundled up in a shawl as if it were already the dead of winter and not late August.
Heaving a sigh, Eliza gathered up her things and drifted indoors, finding it easier to comply with her mother’s wishes than to argue that it was not yet cold.
"When will we be returning to London, Mama?"
"Next week, dearest. Why?"
Her mother blinked at her.
"I am eager to see Lady Matilda again. I have a few theories about her riddle, for a start. I am also interested to see a few other people again, Lady Catherine Stewart and Lord Edward Melthorn chief among them."
"And what about the Duke of Elkington?"
"What about him?"
Eliza frowned.
"The two of you seemed to hit it off well at the Midsummer Ball at Elkington Hall."
"I thought so as well, but he seemed rather put out at the Manningfield Ball after that, so I can only assume that I've done something to offend him, and perhaps his mother as well."
Eliza shrugged, lifting her chin, and squaring her shoulders. She schooled her face into a perfectly neutral expression and hated the pity that she saw in her mother's eyes.
"You do not have to be so brave just for me, dearest. There is no one else here to see."
"Do not pity me, mother, please. And I'm not being brave for you. I'm trying to be brave for me. I did not even want to be noticed in the first place. I was perfectly content with my lot in life as a wallflower; and somehow things got muddled after I danced with His Grace at the Midsummer Ball. I don't like muddled. I would much rather settle back into my comfortable, quiet wallflower life, I think."
"Darling—"
"Please, Mama. I need to go make sure that Annie leaves out the bonnet I want to wear when we return to London."
Eliza spun on her heel, clutching the book she'd been trying to read to her chest, and retreating to her room as fast as her feet would carry her. She was not going to make a fool of herself chasing after the Duke of Elkington just like every other young lady in the ton. She could be perfectly happy as a wallflower who had the occasional, pleasant conversation with someone like Lord Edward Melthorn, and the rest of the ton be hanged.
* * *
ELKINGTON HALL
