And now she had her sights on him, looking pleased at the table arrangement as if she herself had picked it. Perhaps she had.
“It is fine,” he answered shortly. After a moment, he added, “thank you.”
“It is no problem at all,” Cassandra said. “See, I heard some stories that you are rather fond of European beverages, and this is the finest tea in all of Europe. I had my father import it especially for today’s occasion.”
He flinched at that, at the way she preened as though expecting further gratitude. Graham nodded, sipping the tea in the hopes of pleasing her to content quietness.
“It is very nice, indeed. Your father chose well.”
Her face flickered at that, and his attention returned to Miss Hawthorne. Cassandra began again, spotting where his attention went to.
“I do realise that you are suddenly attending more events,” she spoke up. “I do wonder why. Is there something drawing you back into the ton’s circles? Have you realised that these events hold something you have missed out during your isolation?”
Graham tried not to flinch again. “No, nothing has particularly caught my eye.”
And yet you are looking right at the very girl that has, he told himself.
For a moment, Lady Cassandra looked startled at his words but quickly composed herself. “I see. Well, regardless, I am happy that you have shown up for today’s tea party.”
He hummed distractedly but he could only try to focus on what Lord Ambrose might have been saying to Amelia to make her cringe back so hard. Did nobody else notice it? Movement at the other end of the table caught his eye, and his focus turned to Percival, who looked at Miss Hawthorne and Lord Ambrose, and then back to Graham. He flashed a secretive smile.
Food was eaten, and tea was drunk and enjoyed, and no matter how much Graham avoided Lady Cassandra, she insisted on finding more things to ask him that he deflected as well as he could. Eventually, Lady Kensington stood to her feet and clapped once to gain attention.
“I do hope you have enjoyed your refreshments,” she said,addressing everybody. “Please feel free to stroll around the gardens, as we have several games of shuttlecock and battledore set up. There is also the hedge maze that is available to wander, but should you happen to lose your way within, merely call out, and we shall dispatch one of our servants to fetch you.”
She gave a small laugh as if she already anticipated at least one person getting lost.
Lady Cassandra began to turn to Graham, likely to enquire his whereabouts for the remainder of the party but he was on his feet before she could open her mouth, avoiding her quickly. Getting lost in the hedge maze sounded perfect.
CHAPTER EIGHT
While everybody else was playing various games—even Eleanor, who had spotted Lord Owen taking up a racquet—Amelia took the chance to escape Lord Ambrose and the malicious glare of Lady Cassandra. Her chest was tight, having endured Lord Ambrose’s endless attempts to flirt with her through the tea party.
She could not find Graham but suddenly the garden felt so open, so expansive that she did not know where to hide until she spun, spotting the archway to the hedge maze. Amelia found herself wondering if she could purposefully get lost in there just to avoid eyes on her.
Slipping away, she tucked herself around the entrance to the maze, keeping her eyes forward, on the garden, until she was concealed around the corner. As she turned, she heard a cleared throat. Stumbling, Amelia squeaked in surprise.
The Duke of Blackthorn was already in the first corridor of the maze, leaning against a small, stone bird bath. He looked at her, his head cocked.
Silence enveloped them, and Amelia glanced back at the entrance, knowing she ought to slip back out, to pretend as though they had not seen each other, to pretend as though they might not be alone. But she did not want to. Part of her wanted to press her luck, to be a wallflower and see where this particular wall might take her.
His Grace cleared his throat again. “If you are in here for the same reason as I then I shall assume you are not quite enjoying the party.”
Amelia hesitated, clasping her hands behind her back. “I… ah, I admit that large gatherings are not the most comfortable environment for me. I find them rather overwhelming.”
“I feel the same.” The duke’s confession was casual, almost a shrug, as he straightened up. “I prefer the solitude of my country estate to the whirlwind that is London. My study providessomepeace. That is until my mother descends upon it with berating.”
Amelia laughed softly. “I do not see how anybody may berate you. You are a duke.”
“A duke with a mother who cares for the dukedom,” he countered. “I am sorry for my hesitation yesterday in Hyde Park. I do not know why my tongue escaped me and rendered me quite useless to speak with.”
“I imagine it is for a similar reason to mine,” Amelia offered. “We are not very well-versed in these situations. I am, as that terrible sheetclaimed, a wallflower.”
“And I am a beastly duke who avoids every ball at every cost.”
“I do not think you are beastly,” Amelia said quietly. Her eyes flickered over his scar, not finding it at all hideous, as others did. If anything, she ached to touch it, to know if it was as smooth as it appeared.
“You might be the only one—aside from Owen, that is.”
