“I canna say,” Edith told her, once more looking at Graham, almost shyly this time. “A bit of impudence has always endeared a body to me, personally. Shows a canny mind, does it not?”
Graham smiled at her, a slow curling of his lips that seemed to cause the same sensation in the soles of his feet. A compliment from Edith was worth any teasing that would be forthcoming from his aunt, and any awkwardness on his part.
The playful streak in the woman was damned attractive.
“I suppose it does,” Eloise admitted reluctantly. She slowly rose, her breathing shifting as she did so in a way Graham did not care for. “Stay right there,” she ordered, pointing a finger at him. “I am only stiff. Edith, will you see me back into the house, love? I believe I have walked enough for the day.”
“Of course,” Edith said at once. “I do not know the way to your rooms, but…”
Eloise waved a hand at her. “I am not going to lay down, my dear, only take some tea. We will go to the parlor and share a pot together. I want to hear all about you without this brat of a nephew ruining things.”
“I beg your pardon?” Graham protested mildly.
“Continue to beg,” Eloise shot back. “When you deserve my pardon, I daresay I shall give it.” She winked at him, then gestured for Edith to lead her away, passing Graham.
“I like her,” Eloise whispered, patting his arm as she went by him.
Edith smiled at Graham but said nothing as she and his aunt proceeded through the garden to return to the house.
How long Graham stood there after they left, he couldn’t say, but he suddenly felt like playing a very long game of billiards.
There was entirely too much on his mind.
Chapter Fourteen
Intrepid voyagers may meet the most valuable allies. They may also find a heap of trouble. The chances are roughly the same.
-The Spinster Chronicles, 19 December 1817
Edith forced a smile for what felt like the fourteenth time that morning, and her face was beginning to ache for it.
How was she so out of practice?
Her friends had arrived, saving Prue and Charlotte, as well as the other guests, and it was the other ladies among the party who were to blame for the painful smiles. They were, for the most part, ridiculous.
The Miss Bradfords, Felicity and Diana, were particularly intriguing. Both stood to inherit a great deal of money, had charming enough looks and manners, but had no real designs for matrimony. They were well-educated, well-spoken, and shockingly well-versed in gossip.
Adaline Chesney wanted nothing more than to be on Lord Radcliffe’s arm at all times, but she would settle for any eligible man in the room. She lacked tact and attempted to cover the flaw with giggles and fluttering lashes. Every other lady, married or not, was competition, and she left no doubt about it.
Catherine Tillman barely spoke, but Edith could hardly call her shy. She had a gaze that would leave any person unsettled, and her fortune and breeding were impeccable. The only person she spoke with was Mr. Gaither, and she seemed to do so in only low tones. Edith appeared to trouble her somehow, though they had only barely been introduced.
At the sound of another of Miss Chesney’s grating laughs, Edith quietly rose and turned to Georgie with a slight smile. “I think I will take some air for a moment or two. Will you make my excuses if I am noticed?”
Georgie returned her smile, knowing full well what Edith was up to. “Of course.”
Edith nodded her thanks and walked as sedately as she could, although she was desperate to run out to the terrace and down the steps.
It was a rather pleasant day, a mixture of sun and clouds in the sky, and with a breeze just chilled enough to keep one from feeling too heated. It was a rarity for England, or Scotland, for that matter, and it seemed a shame to remain indoors rather than take part in it. Besides, being alone was such a delight after being forced into social activity all afternoon, evening, and now this morning.
On occasion, one simply must be alone.
Edith chose to go around and beyond the walled garden, lovely though it was, and though she had much to explore still within. The landscape and grounds of Merrifield were quite the glorious spectacle from her bedchamber windows, and she wanted to traipse them all before she returned to London.
Wildflowers dotted the grass and hedges, some places forming natural canopies of wisteria, and even some honeysuckle. Their fragrances filled the air, a heavenly scent only nature could provide, and with a richness that could not be described adequately. Edith slowed her pace, pleased she hadn’t bothered with a bonnet to shade her from the warmth of the sun or the experience itself.
She closed her eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly and deeply, a marvelous cleansing sensation filling and refreshing her.
There was nothing like Merrifield in all the world, and she was convinced of it.
A sound disturbed the beauty of the moment then, and Edith frowned at hearing it. A rustling came from off to her right, and it was far too vigorous to be a rabbit or bird. Muffled cries of distress soon accompanied it, not to the extent of tears, but certainly involving effort.
There were no children in the party at Merrifield, so it had to be a local from the village or a servant, though her first inclination was to declare the person younger than any servants she had seen. She moved around the hedge and saw a small, dark-haired girl trying desperately to untangle herself and her yellow frock from a bunch of brambles on the other side. She was so determined that she was ripping a hole in the garment.
Edith hurried forward. “Here, lass, let me help you.”
The girl jumped as if she had not known anyone was there, her striking blue eyes widening sharply.
Edith smiled at her kindly. “It’s all right. I just want to help you out of there. My name is Edith. What is your name?”
“Molly,” she replied after a moment, still looking at her warily. Then, she rolled her eyes and dipped into a light curtsey among the brambles and thorns. “Lady Molly Hastings, if you please, ma’am.”
There was nothing to do but grin at her attempt at manners, and Edith responded in kind. “Lady Edith Leveson, at your service, Lady Molly. Now, might I help you?”
“Yes, please,” she said heavily, forgoing any sort of nerves or shyness. “I’m making a mess of my dress.”
“Yes, well, that can happen,” Edith conceded as she worked to disentangle the girl. “Particularly with brambles. What were you doing?”
Molly wrinkled her nose up and pushed some of her dark hair out of her face. “I was so bored and so hungry, I thought I could sneak out and get some berries before anybody discovered I was gone.” She frowned and shook her head. “I got stuck picking some of the berries up high.”
Edith gave the girl a bemused look, though it likely should have been more disapproving, as she helped her step out of the bushes. “You snuck out of your house? I can understand the desire to on such a day as this, but I’m afraid, my dear Lady Molly, sneaking just isna done.”
“I know,” she admitted with a sigh too heavy for a child, “and you can call me Molly. I don’t like being called ‘lady’. I much prefer to be a child.” She sighed again and shuffled her feet. “Gray is always telling me to behave like a lady, and I try. But I was so bored…”