Page 40 of Earl for the Summer
Cassian clapped him on the shoulder and then strode side by side with him back to the house.
His twin was right about one thing—the conservatory had proved to be a blessed distraction. But it didn’t stop Daphne Bridewell from invading his thoughts. He’d begun to suspect nothing, for the rest of his life, would ever distract him enough to dim his memories of her.
CHAPTER 9
Daphne tugged at a weed, then another, working with practiced hands to clear space for the seedlings she’d cultivated over the past weeks. She’d decided to sow some biennials. They were a reminder to have patience, for they’d give no glorious flowers this year, but tending them well promised blooms in the coming year.
At Selina’s urging, she was trying to have patience with herself too. With her downtrodden mood. With her longing for a man she couldn’t have. With the tears that came unbidden, just when she thought she’d put Cassian Rourke out of her mind.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t a man who simply invaded her thoughts. He’d somehow wedged his way into her heart.
“Lily’s coming, in case you want to slip your gloves on,” Ivy said as she strolled toward Daphne on the garden path behind Edgerton House.
“Has she become such a high and mighty duchess that she’d object?” Daphne smiled and held up her dirt-smeared hands.
Proper young ladies were not supposed to relish such things. Yet she’d pay the price of scrubbing at her nails to clear away the dirt below them for the singular joy of sinking her bare handsinto the soil. It simply didn’t feel the same with gardening gloves on, ladylike or not.
A few moments later, Lily emerged from the French doors that led to the garden with an odd smile on her face.
“What is it? You look as if you’re plotting something.” Daphne wiped off her hands as best she could and got to her feet.
“Not plotting,” Lily glanced at Daphne’s mud-streaked smock and dirty hands but said nothing. “Just pondering.”
It was only then that Daphne realized Lily had something clutched in her hand.
Her sister grinned and lifted a letter. “We’ve had an unexpected invitation.”
“Oh?” Daphne attempted to sound intrigued. Invitations weren’t exactly a rarity during the Season, but, of course, they were now in the final days of London events—thank goodness. Soon, most noble families would hie off to their county estates.
Daphne hoped they would too. She longed for the familiar Derbyshire countryside where she’d been raised, even if it meant abandoning her gardening projects in London.
“Are you going to tell us, or give us clues and makes us guess?” Ivy asked, her tone making it clear that she preferred the latter.
Lily fixed her gaze on Daphne, and the longer she looked, the more Daphne’s wariness grew.
“We’ve been invited to visit Hillcrest Manor. All of us—myself, Griffin, the twins, and both of you.”
“That’s the Earl of Windham’s estate,” Ivy whispered as if Lily, who was standing right in front of them, wouldn’t hear her.
Daphne swallowed and tried to ignore how her traitorous heart fluttered. “Why wouldheinvite us to visit?”
“He did dine at our home and seemed quite fond of you,” Lily said with a lilt in her voice. “Perhaps that’s why.” Her smile was soft, hopeful.
Daphne felt suddenly queasy. She hadn’t confessed to Lily about Cassian Rourke’s deception, but if they all journeyed to Berkshire, the whole matter would be torn open again. And the pain of it was still too fresh.
“I’d prefer to return to Derbyshire,” Daphne told her sister.
“Arguably,” Ivy interjected, “Berkshire is on the way to Derbyshire. We could make a short visit to Hillcrest as a stopover on the longer journey home.”
Daphne narrowed her eyes at Ivy, who’d apparently forgotten the meaning of sisterly loyalty.
Lily looked at each of them, as if searching for some answer. “We could forego the last few balls and soirees of the Season and depart in the next few days.”
Thatsounded appealing. Daphne had already been devising excuses to avoid a ball later in the evening. Selina had stopped accepting invitations too, preferring to have Matthew visit with her family or going to small family gatherings with the marquess and his sister.
The Season had nothing to offer either of them anymore.
And for Daphne, going out meant being a fool. Because though logic told her Cassian Rourke was gone—never to return—some foolish, irrational part of her kept looking for him, hoping to catch his gaze across a ball room or a dinner table.
