“He is probably just reminded of the brush I had with death last Season. I am quite surprised that there has not been talk about it, to be honest with you. A runaway horse dragging an empty curricle nearly killed me, and would have done if your brother had not pulled me to safety. His Grace saved my life, quite literally, and must not like being reminded of the incident, but surely he does not expect me to let one bad experience — one freak accident — stop me from ever walking in the Park again? What happened that day, or almost happened, rather, could just as easily have happened to any other girl as to me.”
“He what?” Lady Catherine pressed her fingers to her lips, her eyes wide with shock. “I wonder why he did not tell us about rescuing you from the runaway horse?”
Eliza winced and bit her lower lip. She rather wondered the same thing, but she did not wish to say as much to the Duke’s sister. If he had not mentioned it to Lady Catherine and Lord Gabriel, surely he had his reasons.
Perhaps the encounter was of little consequence to him, even, and his displeasure at hearing that Catherine would be walking with Eliza in the Park was due more to the company his sister would be keeping than the location of their meeting?
“It is of little consequence. I was completely unharmed, I assure you. More likely than not, the incident with the horse almost trampling me to death has nothing to do with his displeasure at hearing that you would be walking with me in the Park today.”
Eliza turned back to Lady Catherine, forcing a smile, putting on her bravest face, the one she’d used for so long to convince herself and all the world that she did not mind being invisible if it meant that no one mocked or bullied her. And really, it had been worth the trade off, once. Or at least, she’d used to think so.
A pained, almost frightened, expression crossed Lady Catherine’s face, and she opened her mouth for a moment, as if to share something with Eliza, but only a soft gasp of surprise left Lady Catherine’s lips as her gaze locked on something over Eliza’s shoulder. Eliza turned to see what Lady Catherine was staring at with such unguarded surprise and spotted Lord Edward Melthorn strolling along the path towards them.
His expression brightened when he saw the two women where they had paused on the footpath, and he nodded in greeting as his long strides ate up the distance remaining between them. Lady Catherine stiffened at Eliza’s side, but Eliza offered Lord Edward a polite smile and a curtsey.
“My, my, but this is a pleasant surprise. Good day to you, Miss Wingfield.”
Lord Edward bowed.
“Good day, Lord Edward. Are you enjoying your walk in the Park?”
“I am, thank you, Miss Wingfield, much more so now that I have come across you. My mother wishes me to extend an invitation to you to join us for tea this afternoon at Bitterwood House, you and you mother, and your sisters if they are in town and of a disposition to join us.”
“I will gladly pass the invitation along to my mother and sisters. Thank you.”
As Lord Edward strode away, Eliza turned back to Lady Catherine Stewart, expecting the conversation and walk with her friend to resume as if nothing at all had happened.
Instead, Catherine’s expression was shuttered, and her lips were pinched.
“You must excuse me, Miss Wingfield. I just remembered an important engagement which I cannot be late for.”
Before Eliza could even open her mouth to ask a question or offer her goodbyes, Lady Catherine gave a jerky curtsey and turned, motioning to her maid to follow her back in the direction they’d come from.
Eliza stared after her, an uneasy feeling tying her stomach in knots.
What on Earth was all that about? What am I missing?
* * *
THE DUNCAN BALL, DUNCAN HOUSE, LONDON, 1812
Raphe Stewart had spent months attempting to wipe Miss Eliza Wingfield from his memory entirely, in deference to his temperamental mother’s wishes, with little success. He was doing an admirable job of ignoring the girl and staying away from her, on the outside. But on the inside? Every time Raphe saw her, his mother’s order to stay away ripped his soul to shreds anew.
He ached to speak to her again, to ask her how she had spent her summer, to inquire after her family, to hear the angelic sound of her laughter again. And he ached for more, as well.
Her soft, floral scent haunted him, as did the way she’d felt in his arms that day he’d rescued her from the runaway horse in the Park. She was so petite and perfect in his arms, and those plump curves which the other young ladies mocked her for had felt like heaven cradled against his chest. But he could not have her, and have a happy Mama at the same time, and that was problematic for Raphe.
He felt it was his duty to care for his Mama and ensure her happiness as she had always tried to care for her children, though she sometimes took an excessive approach to things, or let her own, personal feelings cloud her judgment.
Still, it was difficult to remain angry with her when he knew that she was trying her best. Wasn’t that all he and his siblings could ask of their mother, really? Was it fair to expect more than she seemed capable of giving? After all, their mother had lived a whole life they knew nothing about, before they were ever born, and perhaps those experiences were influencing her choices now?
Gabriel had accused him of being a coward, of spoiling their mother just as their father had, of caving in to her wishes just to keep the peace, when he should have stood up for what he wanted and made their mother see sense, but Raphe did not wish to fight with their mother, no matter how badly he wanted Miss Wingfield. If Mama said it was not to be, he would just have to harden his heart and accede to his mother’s wishes.
Really... why did Lady Seabury have to interfere with his Mama’s betrothal plans for Catherine? If Lady Seabury hadn’t crossed his mother, then Miss Wingfield would be dancing with him right now, rather than smiling and dancing with Lord Edward Melthorn.
Raphe had never understood his mother’s vendetta against that entire family because of her dislike for Lady Bitterwood, but the more he saw Miss Wingfield and Lord Edward Melthorn together, talking and smiling, and looking for all the world as if they were courting, the more he was starting to reconsider.
He was discovering some ill feelings of his own towards Lady Bitterwood and her offspring at that very moment. The very thought of it left Raphe grinding his teeth and clenching his fists at his sides. God above, how he wished it was him.
