“But not your title.”
“My title is not who I am, and what good would it have served? It would only have embarrassed the man and made him feel as though he needed to make a fuss. There was no need for it. Better that I am just a passing stranger who helped him. Anyone would have done the same.”
Rose nodded with understanding.
“I am not sure I agree with you there. I can think of many people who would have turned up their noses at helping him when there was no direct reward for themselves. They would have balked at damaging their clothes.”
Edmund pulled his gloves back over his hands.
“Clothes can be repaired or new ones can be bought. The only reward is helping someone. We should never ignore that, because one day it might be us who need assistance. He might have been out there for hours chasing that goat.”
“The poor thing, though; it was terrified.”
“Poor thing? Did you not see what happened? I was damned near knocked off my feet!”
“Yes, you were,” Rose said, and giggled at Edmund’s expense. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, but he was only teasing her. “Still, it didn’t understand what was happening. It can’t have been nice to be dragged around like that, not being given a choice.”
“No, I can’t imagine it is,” Edmund said. Unlike his other comments, this one was not flippant. She was about to ask him what he meant by that, but they emerged into the village. The others saw them and waved, before surprised looks came upon their faces as they noticed the state of Edmund and Rose. His boots and legs were covered in mud, while Rose was only wearing one glove.
It was Amelia who noticed that particular detail.
“My goodness, what on earth happened? How did you come to lose a glove?” she asked.
“The countryside can be so unkind to delicate fabric,” he said with a smirk. Then, he brushed Rose’s wrist again, indicating to her not to say anything further.
A great cheer rose up from the others as the crowd moved away. Rose was left staring at Edmund, thinking about how he was a man who was not a slave to tradition, who had put himself in harm’s way for a simple farmer. He might have been called a rake, and the reputation might have been well-deserved, but he was not cruel.
Others might have stood by and mocked the farmer as he struggled in the mud. Others might have taken bets between the farmer and the goat. But not Edmund. He did the right thing, and she found this endearing.
“What really did happen?” Margaret asked, sidling up to her.
“Nothing, Mother. Nothing at all,” Rose said. Margaret seemed disappointed, but Rose traced the smooth lines on her palm and thought about Edmund’s gentle touch.
Suddenly, one more promenade did not seem enough.
Chapter Twenty-Three
When they returned to the estate, Edmund skipped to the entrance of Stonewood Manor and clapped his hands, getting everyone’s attention.
“That was a fine morning, and we must all thank Miss Whitfield for her fine idea,” he said. Amelia curtsied, and a ripple of applause passed through the crowd. Rose clenched her jaw, for it was again a sign of how naturally Amelia was accepted, how she thrived in these surroundings, while Rose had always felt friction.
“Now please,” Edmund continued, “let us take a short time to recover, so some of us can change.” He looked down at his trousers, which elicited laughter. “I have arranged a game of Pall Mall. Anyone who wants to play, just put your names into a hat, and if you don’t wish to play, then come and watch, as I am sure it will be grand fun,” he declared.
He rushed off inside, eager to change his clothes.
A lot of people put their names in the hat, including Rose and Amelia. The house was alive with bubbling conversation. Lydia caught up with Rose, and they walked to the gardens together.
“So you and Edmund finally stole a few moments together,” Lydia said.
“We did,” Rose replied. “And it was relaxing.”
“I am sure it was.”
“For how long did Edmund stay with you last night?”
“Not long. He left shortly after you did.”
“Oh. I assumed he had wanted to stay and play cards.”
