Just One Kiss (21 page)

“Why?” Edward asked suspiciously, there was something about the tone of his mother’s voice that he didn’t trust.

“I’m having a little dinner party on Saturday, I had hoped very much that you would come.”

Edward frowned (
realize
d it hurt and so stopped.)  He didn’t think that he was being told the full story somehow.  “I’m sure you can manage without me,” he said carefully, unsurprised when his mother shook her head.

“My guests, that is one of my guests, made a particular enquiry as to whether or not you would be joining us, Edward.  Surely you wouldn’t want to disappoint a lady?”

“What lady?” Edward puzzled.

“Why Miss Winston of course,” Lady Margaret said airily.

Edward choked.  He wasn’t sure what he choked on, disbelief probably, but he definitely started choking.  His mother stared at him in a highly affronted manner until he had got himself back under control.

Why
Miss Winston would ever want to lay eyes on him again Edward was sure he didn’t know – unless it was to inflict som
e sort of bodily harm.  He was
rather surprised to hear that she was still
Miss
Winston though, and more than a little confused as to what good his mother thought could be done by his meeting her again.  He was a married man after all.  It wasn’t as though he could renew his interest in her.  It wasn’t as though he even
wanted
to renew his interest in her.

Edward cast his mind back to the last time that he had seriously contemplated a future with the young Miss Winston.  It had been during dinner at Packwood House, that last dinner before his li
fe spiraled out of his control. I
n all honesty, he had been so shocked at the change he had seen in Miss
Hargreaves
, and concerned at how much it affected him, that he had begun to consider that maybe his choice in Miss Winston wasn’t quite as solid as he would have liked.

That night, in his dreams,
it had been Daphne’s f
ace that had floated before him. It was
her lips that he had sought in passion
. Had he
had forgotten that
,
or just denied that it had ever happened?

“Edward?  Edward!  Are you listening to me?”  His mother’s voice snapped through Edward’s private musings.  “I
said
,” she repeated hotly, “that you owe it to that poor girl to make an appearance at the very least.”

Edward sighed heavily.  He had written to Miss Winston - one letter of apology and explanation.  It wasn’t as though he had
made
her an offer, and circumstances had certainly conspired against him, but it also wasn’t
as though he regretted her loss.
It was strange that
he’d never really thought about it in those terms before.

“Mother, if you could pass on my apologies to Miss Winston I would be most obliged,” Edward said slowly.  “I really do think that it would best if I travel to Coventry and speak with my wife as soon as possible.”

Lady Margaret turned a nasty shade of red.  She pinched her lips together thinly and scowled at her son.  “Well of course you will need to make some sort of arrangement with the girl.  No one is disputing that,” she said sharply, waving a dismissive hand in the air.  “But you don’t need to do so
immediately
.  No one expects you
to go to
her so soon after she abandoned you in London!”

Edward flinched at the way his mother chose to phrase things.  He didn’t like being the centre of gossip, especially not the gossip that circulated among the
ton
.  It was brutal and vicious, and more often than not grossly embellished.  He wasn’t used to it moreover.  He might have been talked about for the last six years, but he hadn’t been around to be touched by it…

He couldn’t stop his heart from feeling a pang of sympathy for Daphne suddenly.  So this was what he had put her through…

“
I
think I should go immediately,” Edward said firmly.

“Oh but Edward!  Do you know what people are saying- what they will say if you go so soon?” Lady Margaret frowned anxiously.

No
, he did not know exactly what was being said, more to the point, he didn’t particularly want to, but Edward didn’t think that he was going to be able to stop his mother from sharing her news.

“That she, that girl-”

“
She
has a name,” Edward growled.  Lady Margaret looked startled by this chastisement.

“Very well then,” she sniffed haughtily.  “They’re saying that
Lady Coventry
has a lover, that she’s run away with him, or run away from you because you stopped her from seeing him.”

“That’s a lie,” Edward snarled, surprising his mother once again.

“Edward you’re not honestly defending that- Lady Coventry, are you?” she demanded.  “She’s made you look ridiculous!”

“Maybe it was no less than what I deserved,” Edward muttered under his breath.

“Oh for goodness sake!  Have you been drinking?” Lady Margaret asked suspiciously.  She sniffed the air and reached her own conclusion.  “I thought as much.  Nothing else could impair your
judgment
so completely!”

“My
judgment
is not impaired,” Edward growled in response.

“Edward!  Have you forgotten what she did to you?” Lady Margaret asked furiously.  “Her
behavior
as a girl of just sixteen was
scandalous
!”

“I assume you’re referring to the kiss?” Edward said calmly.  “You know, I can think of worse ways to fall out of society’s good books,” he mused.  His mother opened and closed her mouth several times without making a sound before she finally found her voice again.

“I shall come back and see you when you are sober Edward John Joseph Everton!” she spluttered hurrying to her feet.

“
You
shouldn’t bother, mother,” he said kindly.  “I’ll be in Coventry.”

Chapter 23

Riding onto his estate in Coventry the following evening, Edward felt
strangely calm.
  He had settled on a course of action now and felt rather better for doing so – his poor head fervently agreed; it was
still
suffering twinges of pain from his alcoholic binge.

This
was home
, Edward decided, as Packwood rose before him.  He had come back to the house first on his return to England, before heading into London even, before finding Daphne...  Maybe he should have brought her here?  Maybe it would have been easier for him?  He could be himself here, relaxed, as he hadn’t felt able to be in the city.

He cantered up to the front of the house with his groom, but, knowing that a hot meal would be an hour or so away at the very least, and not yet feeling overly tired from his ride, Edward decided to trot his horse around the grounds before the light failed completely. 

Whether it was by chance or design, Edward wasn’t entirely sure, but he rode in the direction of the Everton/
Hargreaves
boundary, walking his mount slowly along the border as he looked into the
neighboring
estate.  He pulled his horse up sharply when he noticed it-
her
.

Daphne.

He froze and watched her.  She was s
eated
at a portable easel, dabbing her brush into the
watercolors
by her side and staring off into the horizon as she painted. 
He hadn’
t known that she liked to paint.
Edward felt a kind of emptiness, a sense of deep regret wash over him at this
realization
.  There was so much about his wife that he simply didn’t know.

He thought about leaving her, never revealing that he’d seen her in this peaceful, stol
en moment, but his horse gave an
impatient whin
ny at being made to stand still.
Daphne look
ed around to locate the animal
and saw them.  Edward watched as the brush that she had been holding slipped from her fingers. 

He gave his animal a gentle kick and trotted over to where his wife was sitting.  He didn’t know what to make of the expression on her face.  She looked like she’d seen a ghost, not her husband.

“What are you
doing
here?” she gasped, her voice breathless and shaky.

Edward didn’t know how to answer, so he dismounted and cast his eyes about as if he might find something to help him, oddly enough, he did.  He stared at Daphne’s painting, a puzzled frown furrowing h
is brow.  The heavy parchment did
not boast a picture of the rolling English landscape that was in front of them, but seemed to bear an impression of the French alps, or something very similar at any rate.

“Don’t laugh!” Daphne blurted, so earnestly that Edward could not stop his mouth
from
curving in
to
a kind smile, could not help forgetting the torture that she was putting him through as he tried to put her at ease.

“Why would I laugh?” he asked softly.

Daphne chewed her lip and glanced around, she however, didn’t find anything to save her from giving an answer.  “Everyone else does,” she muttered, standing up off the stone boulder that she’d been using as a stool.

“I’m not everyone else,” Edward said gently.  He bent down and picked up the paintbrush that Daphne had dropped down onto the grass, before offering it to his wife who took it from him hesitantly.

“No, I know that,” she murmured quietly, staring down intently at the brush in her hands.  “Edward- Lord Coventry,” she corrected herself, to Edward’s frustration.  “Why are you here?  Really?” she asked nervously, peeking up at him with those dazzling silver eyes of hers.

“You’re here,” he said softly.  There, he’d told her, and without revealing too much either.  Edward watched as Daphne bit her bottom lip, trying to puzzle out his exact meaning no doubt.  “It seemed like the right thing to do,” he added, when Daphne made no attempt to speak.

“Did it?” she whispered, sneaking another glance at him, before turning back to her painting.  “There’s no real need to come out here you know,” she sighed, and Edward frowned.

“I beg your pardon?”

“For me, to paint, I could do it just as well inside,” she continued, and Edward could hear the sadness that coated her words.

“Why do you come out here then?” he asked, truly interested in hearing the answer she would give.  Daphne blushed and looked hesitant to tell him.  “Why?” Edward pressed, finding that he was smiling again.

“It’s easier to pretend that it’s real out here,” she confessed timidly.  Seeing his look of confusion she added: “the mountains, or whatever it is that I’m painting, it’s easier to pretend that they’re real, that I’m really there.”  She reached out a hand and touched the painting reverently.

“Do you want to be?” Edward asked in surprise.

Daphne gave a little nod.  “All my pictures come from books, or other people’s stories, I want to see it all for myself,” she sighed.  “When you-” she began, but stopped abruptly.

“Go on?” Edward pressed gently.  “When I what?”

“You’ll think it’s silly,” Daphne said, shaking her head.

“I won’t, I promise!” Edward laughed- then caught himself laughing, and wondered at how that had happened.  “Please, Daff?” he coaxed.

His wife sighed softly, but seemed to admit defeat.  “When you were with your regiment,” she said, looking embarrassed, “I followed you all over the world.  I had Anthony buy me books on all of the countries that you visited so that I could see what they were like too.  I told you it was silly!” Daphne said quickly as she finished.