Page 23 of Mr. Eastwood’s Match

“Thank you, Lady Emily,” one of the twins said, her smile tight. Did she not, in fact, want help? Or was she merely self-conscious about the clumsiness of the accident? Perhaps it was Emily herself that was the problem.

Her head had ached even before the ghastly London gossip had come up. She had hoped to never have to think of that awkward occasion again. Nothing terrible had actually happened, of course. Some mean-spirited members of Society had decided to spread rumors about her being a snob, acting above her station, and luring men into courting her for the amusement of breaking their hearts.

It had all been baseless. Fabricated by those who were offended she did not wish to associate with them, due to their mean-spirited nature.

Having high standards for friendships and courtship had spectacularly backfired, and it had taken the cleverness of friends in London to curtail the rumors and leave her—and her family’s—reputation intact. She had taken care to limit new friendships until she was certain of a person’s character, after hearing numerous warnings about people taking advantage of her state as a new noble. That care had been labeled the snobbery of an upstart, and Society did not forgive people acting above their place in life.

That horrible experience had cemented her decision to leave London for the less strict society of York.

The other sister accepted the deck of cards with hardly a lift of her eyes. Both had been so cheerful a moment before.

What if the London gossip continued to stand in the way of Emily finding friends? Finding a husband? She did not want to think on it, though she craved understanding and friendship. She missed forming acquaintance and deeper connection over simple things, and conversation about more than the weather and fashion.

Though Juniper and Jack tried, Emily found herself lonely and without people to confide in. Her brother and sister-in-law wanted to soothe her, the rest of her family were carrying on in London and had their own problems, and that left Emily with few people to share her true thoughts and feelings. Her worry about the gossip…

Lady Hartwell had not been bothered by the gossip, though. Surely that was a good thing? Jack and Juniper both thought Roman Eastwood a good match for her. Yet they had asked only that she be civil to him—and she had been.

But when she looked toward the door, wondering when the gentlemen would join them, it was Lyness she hoped to see first. His sympathetic expression, warm sense of humor, and gentle way of listening had set her at ease more than anyone else.

That would never do.

She needed to take in cooler air. She stepped closer to her sister-in-law, who examined the musical selection with eagerness to find another piece to play, and tilted her head toward the doors. “May I step outside alone?”

Juniper looked toward the windows. “I think so. The gardens are within full view of anyone in this room. Lady Hartwell said they are well lit. I see nothing wrong with it if you are not away overlong.”

Nodding her understanding, Emily slipped between the thin curtains and out into the cool night.

Immediately, she drew in a deep breath. The air was scented with roses, and a soft breeze tugged at her hem in welcome. For a moment, with the heady smells of fragrant flowers and the night air, she missed her home in the country terribly.

It would be ungrateful to admit it, even to herself, so she tried to put the longing aside. Tried not to think of the stone walls covered in honeysuckle, the bright green of the fields stretching in every direction, interrupted by the occasional copse of old trees with broad green leaves.

She stepped deeper into the garden. Nothing within growing higher than her chest made it easy to stay in sight of anyone standing at the doors or windows of the Hartwell townhouse.

If Lady Hartwell wished for Emily to court her son, the baron, that ought to count as a small victory. And an honor, truly. Courting a baron would fulfill her family’s hopes and expectations for her. Marrying a man with wealth or a title would solidify their attainment of nobility. Helping their position in Society. A thing her father wanted.

But she wasn’t certain she wanted more of what London had offered, when every day left her thinking of green hills and quiet afternoons in a comfortable home. The time before she had worried overmuch about suitors, enjoying local assemblies and balls without the worry over marriage, had not been perfect. But it was easier than this. Back then, she had known marriage would come if it was meant to, that her family expected her to care for the home as their parents aged, that her marrying was of no consequence to anyone but herself.

Bending closer to a rose, to inhale its fragrance directly, she winced when the strength of the scent made her head throb. With a hand to her temple, she walked on. Not about to make that mistake again.

Romanticizing the past would not benefit her in the least. Best to focus on the present circumstances.

Mr. Eastwood had saved her at the dinner table. She could not forget that. Nor could she forget the warmth in his eyes when she first arrived that evening, as though he looked forward to seeing her. His encouraging glances at dinner, even before he put a stop to talk of gossip and rumor, had kept her from falling silent. Lyness Eastwood made her feel welcome and even wanted.

“Ridiculous,” she chastised herself. “He is merely kind. A true gentleman.”

The memory of his smile stayed with her, though. It eased something in her chest, to know he enjoyed her company.

As though summoned by her thoughts, Lyness stepped out into the garden at that moment. She saw the movement from the corner of her eye, and turned to find him there, already coming down the few steps to ground level, coming to her with an open smile.

Her heart skipped and her stomach dipped, to see him approach with a warmth in his gaze she was not accustomed to.

When he was mere steps away, he spoke. “Here you are, Lady Emily. I hope I am not intruding. I only… needed a moment’s peace myself.” The air between them seemed to soften, or perhaps it was only her heart. “Will you forgive me for inflicting my company on your quiet contemplation?”

“I cannot think of ever objecting to your company, Mr. Eastwood,” she said, feeling her cheeks grow warmer as she spoke. “You are most welcome. Especially given that these are your family’s gardens. I would be a rude beast if I tried to keep you out of them.”

He appeared happy to hear her welcome, though it did not strike her as the most elegant of speeches.

“I will never object to your company either, my lady.” He tipped his head forward, then offered his arm. “Tell me, what do you think of my mother’s roses?”