Page 35 of The Duke's Auctioned Spinster
He held out his hand. She took it. Their fingers were damp, but he could feel the softness of her skin and the warmth that simmered beneath her flesh. He pressed her palm as he lifted her up. Water dripped from her dress.
“It’s a shame you did not come accompanied by a chaperone. She might have carried some spare clothing,” Edmund said.
“I suppose I will just have to muddle through. At least the day is temperate,” she said, looking up to make sure that there were no grim clouds lurking in the sky. Not that it would have made much difference. They were wet enough already.
When she looked up, Edmund noticed the curve of her neck and the hollow of her throat, which once again shimmered with a lingering sheen of water. There was something enticing about it, something that played with his mind. He fought to regain his composure as they moved away from the lake.
The foal and its mother were gamboling away, leaving them alone with Strum and Pluck.
“Would you like to return home?” he asked, expecting that she would, and what a relief that would be for him to escape this unwanted trial of conflicting emotions.
“I am not sure it would be best for me to return in such a state. Perhaps we could sit for a while. The breeze and the sun will dry us,” she said.
Edmund opened his palm, and they returned to drier ground.
“I would offer you my jacket, but I am afraid it is not fit for purpose at the moment,” he said. He took off the uncomfortably damp garment and wrung it in his hands. Water squeezed out of it and trickled near his feet.
“I hope you are not seeking to create a lake here as well,” Rose said.
Edmund realized what he was doing and then cast his jacket aside. He stretched out his arms, allowing the breeze to ripple around him in the hope that it would dry his thin shirt.
“I believe one lake is enough,” he said.
“I agree.”
“So you spoke of how your mother took you to the countryside. What did you do with your father?” Edmund asked.
“He loved museums and models. He would take me all around London, and we’d spend hours looking at the exhibits. We never got through all of them in a single visit, so we kept returning. He was always thrilled when they announced a new exhibit, and we were often the first in line. At home, he would often involve me in his model-making; my small fingers were good for delicate work. He never let me paint them; I wasn’t skilled enough for that, but I could handle all of the small pieces.”
“I see, and is that something you do together now?”
“Not so much,” she said, and Edmund wondered if he detected a hint of regret in her voice. “You would have hated it, being dragged around all those museums.”
“I imagine so. The thought is enough to make me shudder. What on earth possessed him to visit them on so many occasions?”
“I asked him the same thing myself once because there were so many things to do in London, and yet we only ever seemed to visit the same places over and over again. He told me he liked learning about other people because he could imagine a life beyond his own. Now that I think about it, he always seemed to dream of being in another place and time. I wonder if he is unhappy about the life he has.”
“Perhaps, but I am sure he isn’t unhappy about the people in his life,” Edmund said, feeling an urge to reassure her. She flashed him a grateful smile, and it was the first time they spoke without bickering or arguing, while their voices were calm.
“I like to think so, although…” she trailed away, catching herself before she could continue.
“Although what?”
“I cannot say. It goes against the rule of not speaking about marriage,” she caught his eye with a measured gaze and then continued speaking. “What of your happy memories with your parents? Did you do different things with each of them?”
Edmund looked into his lap to hide the frown that crinkled his brow. It was always difficult for him to talk about his parents, yet in this instance, if he refused, Rose would undoubtedly ask why he was so reluctant to speak of them, especially because Lydia clearly did not have such qualms. Perhaps it was simply best to offer her a small fragment of his past to placate her.
A little piece would hardly hurt him too much, after all.
“No, we always liked to do things together. There were some moments I spent with them alone, but the other was never very far. On the lake, for example, father and I would row the boat while mother would be on the lake with Charlotte and Lydia, watching and waving at us. We were always in nature, either in the garden or in the country, although our garden was big enough that at times it felt like the countryside.”
“Really?”
Edmund nodded. “Our parents made sure of it. They were never really built for the trappings of London, which I suppose is why they went off on so many expeditions together.”
“Did they ever take you?” she asked.
Edmund swallowed a lump in his throat. “No. They said it was too dangerous, and they wanted to make sure we kept to our routine. In truth, I sometimes wonder if they realized we would find it so exciting that we would never be able to concentrate on anything ordinary again. I was supposed to go with them, though. They promised me that the next time they went, I would be old enough to join them. Only… You know what happened.”
