Isolde nodded. “I quite agree.”
Although, what power would we really have to stop such a thing?She did not say that part out loud, for blunt honesty was rarely a kindness.
“I fear I have ruined the mood,” Amelia said sadly, her smile tight. “Come, let us speak of cheerier things. Tell us about His Grace’s face when he stepped into the Montrose’s drawing room again.”
Isolde’s own cheeks flushed with heat. “I could not. I should hate for you to grow tired of my very best tale.”
“Oh, but youmusttell it to my cousin when she arrives in London!” Valery interjected eagerly. “I cannot wait for you to meet her, Isolde. I think you shall like Beatrice very much—everyone does.”
Amelia raised a hand. “Everyone who is a woman does. Gentlemen are… not so fond of her.”
“She has a sharp tongue, you see,” Valery said proudly. “I have nary met a wittier individual, nor one who causes gentlemen such distress. They are lured in by her exceptional beauty, and within minutes of being in her company, they are making excuses to run away. Quite formidable.”
Amelia halted beneath the shade of a plane tree, leaning against the rough trunk for a moment, toying with the ribbon at her waist. “But youhave told her to be more… amenable for my brother’s dinner party, have you not? I adore Beatrice, you know that I do, but I would hate for there to be any… um… difficulty. If Martin deems her to be a bad influence, he will forbid me from venturing out with you when she is here. Goodness, he might even forbid me from seeing you when Beatrice is not here, Valery.”
Obvious panic made Amelia’s pretty face fall, twirling the loose end of the ribbon’s bow around and around her forefinger with increasing agitation. Isolde knew that Amelia did not have many friends—indeed, she only really seemed to spend time with Isolde and Valery—so it would be a devastating blow to lose even one of her dear companions.
“Fear not,” Valery said, taking both of Amelia’s hands in hers. “I have spoken at length with Beatrice. I have instructed her to be on her best, most subdued behavior, and she has promised me that she will fulfil that duty.”
Amelia blew out a nervous breath, her chest rising and falling frantically. “I do not feel so well,” she mumbled, sliding down the tree trunk until she was sitting, her knees to her chest. “Forgive me. I need but a moment and I will be well again.”
“Are you dizzy?” Isolde jumped in, concerned for her dearest friend.
Amelia nodded slowly, scrunching her eyes shut. “The worldisspinning somewhat.”
“Wait here,” Isolde said. “I shall fetch you something to drink.”
She hurried off in the direction of a barrow boy, who had been offering out tin cups of water in exchange for a farthing, realizing as she quickened her pace that she had not brought her coin purse with her. Still, she hoped she might be able to convince him.
“What are you doing?” Edmund’s firm hand closed around her wrist, halting her in her tracks.
Isolde tugged her hand free and gestured back to the tree, where her mother had just caught up to the two other girls. “Amelia is not feeling well. I mean to fetch her some water, if that is notdisagreeable to you? I apologize; I forgot that I was supposed to ask my jailer first.”
Edmund folded his hands behind his back and dipped his head. “Considering it is a matter of great importance, I will assist you. I cannot have ladies fainting under my guardianship.”
“I would have thought you were used to ladies fainting in front of you by now,” Isolde remarked a note too sharply, waving her hand around the sprawling expanse of the lush, sun-warmed park.
Wherever she looked, ladies were staring and fanning their faces. It was the same no matter where Edmund went, for though he was a tremendous thorn inherside, the rest of society’s ladies saw only the roses of his unfairly handsome good looks and the possibility of being his Duchess.
“Actually, I find it rather burdensome,” Edmund replied, surprising her. “They are rarely actually fainting, and as I cannot just leave them in a swoon, lest I be judged unfeeling, I am expected to be chivalrous. I must stay with them, fan them, bring them water, help them to their feet, and far too often I have been forced to carry them to a quieter room—usually at the behest of a scheming mother.”
Quite remarkably, Isolde found herself laughing. A true laugh, not the demure artifice that had been drummed into her during her ‘how to be a lady’ lessons.
“That is not why you ran away to the Continent for almost two years, is it?” she asked, smiling. She did not add that he had also avoided coming to Grayling House a year prior to that, though she knew Vincent had invited him. There had been an argument, she had asked her brother not to let Edmund visit, and he had not—something which had never made sense to her, because he was not one to ever obey her wishes.
“Partially,” Edmund replied. “My arms needed the rest.”
She cast him a curious, sideways glance, astounded that he had just made a joke in her presence. “Forgive me, Your Grace, I did not realize you were in possession of a sense of humor.”
He shrugged. “I was not speaking in jest, though my arms were rather a metaphor for my duties.”
“Ah… what a pity,” she remarked. “I thought, perhaps, I was discovering something new about you.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
Edmund fell silent for a while, walking at Isolde’s side though keeping a polite distance between them. His expression was blank, harboring none of the usual coldness in his eyes, his mouth less grimly set than normal.
Figuring that that was to be the end of their discussion, Isolde concentrated on finding the barrow boy, who had just disappeared behind some tall bushes in the distance.
