Page 28 of His Scarred Duchess
“Your Grace,” the Dowager Countess said, fixing him with a piercing stare. “I understand you’ve been making quite a stir with your agricultural reforms. Tell me, how do you find the yield this year compared to last?”
Edmund opened his mouth, then closed it again, acutely aware of Daniel’s amused eyes boring into him from across the lawn.
“I… that is to say… have you tried the lemonade, my lady? It’s quite refreshing.”
The Dowager Countess’s eyebrows rose so high that they nearly disappeared into her hairline. “Lemonade? I asked about crop yields, young man, not beverages.”
“Yes, well…” Edmund floundered, desperately searching for something, anything, to say that didn’t involve Holbrook or his duties. “Did you know that lemons were once considered so valuable that kings would present them as gifts? I had considered growing them at Holbrook, but the climate isn’t conducive.”
The silence that followed was deafening. The Dowager Countess stared at him as though he’d suddenly grown a second head. From the corner of his eye, Edmund could see Daniel doubling over with barely suppressed laughter.
“I… see,” the Dowager Countess said finally. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, Your Grace. I believe Lady Thistlewaite is calling for me.”
As she walked away, her back ramrod straight with disapproval, Edmund let out a long, slow breath. He turned to find Daniel approaching, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.
“Oh, bravo, Your Grace,” Daniel said, his voice shaking with suppressed laughter. “A truly masterful display of social grace. I particularly enjoyed your fascinating lecture on the historical significance of citrus fruits.”
Edmund groaned, realizing his mistake. “Damn it all. I mentioned Holbrook, didn’t I?”
“Indeed you did, my friend,” Daniel replied cheerfully. “And here I thought you’d actually manage to win our little wager. I intend to dine out on this story for months.”
Edmund groaned. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’d be willing to forget that ever happened?”
“Not a chance,” Daniel replied cheerfully. “Now, shall we discuss the arrangements for Lady Windhurst’s musicale? I hear her niece has been practicing a particularly challenging piece fromThe Magic Flute.”
As Daniel launched into an enthusiastic description of the upcoming musical torture, Edmund smiled despite his embarrassment. Perhaps these social gatherings weren’t entirely without merit, if only for the amusement they provided his friend.
And if, as they made their way back towards the refreshments table, his eyes scanned the crowd once more for a glimpse of honey hair and vibrant green eyes…
Well, that was his secret to keep.
Chapter Twelve
“Now, my dear,” Lady Gillingham said, patting Adeline’s hand reassuringly, “there’s no need to look so glum. It’s a beautiful day for a garden party.”
Adeline forced a smile, though her stomach churned with apprehension. “Of course, Grandmama. I’m sure it will be lovely.”
She fidgeted with the lace trim of her gloves as the carriage rolled to a stop before Lady Alderton’s impressive country estate. The sprawling gardens were awash with color, a sea of well-dressed ladies and gentlemen milling about under the warm spring sun.
In truth, Adeline had tried every excuse she could think of to avoid this outing. But her grandmother had been insistent, declaring that fresh air and socializing would do her good. Now, faced with the prospect of another afternoon of whispers andsidelong glances, Adeline wished she’d tried harder to feign illness.
As they stepped down from the carriage, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what lay ahead. She’d survived countless such gatherings before; surely she could endure one more.
“Miriam! My dear friend, how wonderful to see you!”
Adeline turned to see Lady Alderton approaching, her face wreathed in smiles. Despite her nervousness, she couldn’t help but return the older woman’s warm greeting.
“Lady Alderton,” she said, dipping into a small curtsy. “Thank you for having us. Your gardens are absolutely beautiful.”
“Oh, none of that ‘Lady Alderton’ business,” the Dowager Marchioness said, waving a hand dismissively. “You must call me Rachel, my dear. After all?—”
But whatever Lady Alderton had been about to say was cut off as a tall figure approached from behind her.
Adeline’s breath caught in her throat as she recognized the broad shoulders, the commanding presence, the piercing gray eyes that had haunted her dreams for days.
“Ah, Edmund!” Lady Alderton exclaimed. “There you are. Come, let me introduce you properly. This is Lady Adeline Follet,Lord Brenton’s eldest daughter and my dear friend Miriam’s granddaughter.”
Adeline felt the blood drain from her face ashecame to stand beside his grandmother. The Duke of Holbrook was Lady Alderton’s grandson? This was the mysterious stranger from the garden? The man she’d nearly been caught with?
