Page 16 of The Duke's Auctioned Spinster
“See! This is what I mean. What is the use of learning about geography if you are not going to experience it? I am sure you could tell me plenty of facts about the world, but can you tell me what it’s like to live there? To smell the air? It is like someone describing the properties of an apple just by looking at it,” as he said this, he produced an apple and held it before her, shiny and red. “Now I could tell you all about the shape, the size, the texture, but nothing about the taste, and that is the most important part, wouldn’t you agree?”
He then took a bite and crunched the apple between his teeth.
“I believe that with rigorous study, we can know all that we need to know. I do not need to experience something to speak about it. Experience does not equate to knowledge or understanding.”
“There we differ. Life is to be lived, not studied, not written about, not even sung about. It is meant to be experienced to the full extent of our senses.”
“You are veering toward hedonism, and such indulgence is definitely a sin.”
Edmund laughed again. He didn’t seem to take anything seriously.
“Even Our Lord did not refuse wine,” Edmund said.
Rose’s mouth dropped open because such a thing was considered close to sacrilege, although when she thought aboutit more deeply, there wasn’t actually anything inaccurate about what Edmund said. Perhaps it was just the way he said things. Rose angled her head away sharply. Her mind was flustered, and she had no idea what to say in return to him, as anything she said was twisted.
He was more intelligent than she had given him credit for and could hold his own in an argument. He was no dolt. Before she could say anything else, he started to sing a hymn. His voice was low and rich, and not displeasing to the ear. He leaned in low, making it clear that he was singing to her and only to her. It was a romantic hymn, but Rose showed no reaction.
She especially hated that Jenny was giggling and looking at Rose in a way that suggested Rose should feel fortunate to be in that position.
The light grew dim, and the air temperature dropped.
“Perhaps it is time to call it a day,” Rose said.
“Nonsense, the evening is still young,” Edmund said. He seemed prepared for everything as he withdrew some candles and matches from the hamper. He carefully placed them on the picnic blanket and lit them. The flames danced in the air, illuminating their immediate surroundings in a soft glow.
Rose shivered, the warmth from the candles insufficient to ward off the cold, so she asked Jenny to go back to the carriage and get her shawl.
“Now we are alone,” Edmund said with a seductive look in his eyes, although laughter followed quickly. She could never tell how serious he was about anything.
Edmund’s words did not remain true for long, however. A small, furry black dog scampered toward them. It looked thin and nervous, with ears perked up like two triangles sitting atop its head, and its gaze was furtive. It slowed as it neared the blanket, stopping and watching them warily. Now that it was closer, Rose could see a worn collar around its neck.
“Easy, there’s nothing to be afraid of here. What’s your name? Where did you come from? Are your owners around?” Rose asked, gently moving forward, kneeling to keep low. She stretched out her palm, hoping the dog would interpret it as unthreatening, but sadly, it seemed to have the opposite effect.
As soon as she started moving, the dog did as well. It turned and made its way as quickly as it could to a copse of trees. Rose noticed that it had a limp. Her heart was already softened by its appearance, and now she felt a keen desire to help the animal. Without thinking, she followed its path.
She was led to a quieter, more hidden area of the park. Edmund was behind her. She saw a rustling of leaves and a dark shadow darting away, and then she heard a whimper. There was something so plaintive and distraught about the sound that her heart was moved, and her only desire was to reach the dog and help find its owner.
“Rose,” Edmund said. Rose turned, glancing over her shoulder. It was only then that she realized how far they had strayed from the park. Jenny was not with him, having gone to fetch Rose’s shawl.
They were alone, unchaperoned.
It was exactly the kind of thing that Rose had wanted to avoid.
Chapter Seven
“Wait here, Edmund. I shall only be a moment,” she said, thinking that the best alternative was for him to wait in plain sight while she chased after the dog.
The sensible and proper thing to do was to turn on her heels immediately and return to the picnic blanket, where Jenny would be waiting for her. However, she could not simply let the dog walk off. It was in pain and looked lost, and thinking of such an innocent creature being so troubled by things beyond its understanding brought sorrow to her heart.
Without waiting for his reply, Rose followed the dog’s path, weaving through trees and scanning the encroaching darkness with her eyes. She strained her ears but could hear nothing.
“You shouldn’t be here by yourself. There’s no telling what kind of scoundrels lurk in the shadows.”
“And I suppose you would know a lot about being a scoundrel. In how many shadows have you lurked?” she challenged, still looking for the dog. She bent down to push back leaves and peered behind trees. She looked to the ground, hoping the dog had left some footprints, but if it had, then they were indistinguishable within the bracken.
“Far too many to count,” he replied. “What do you hope to achieve by this?”
“I hope to find that dog. It seemed in distress.”
