Lord Dallington spoke up from the head of the table. “How was your day of angling?” he asked, glancing between Miles and Bennett.
“Oh, Miles didn’t go angling,” Bennett informed his father. “He decided a visit to the village with Edwina would be much more enjoyable.”
“Is that so?” Lord Dallington asked.
“Yes, my lord,” Miles responded. “I asked Lady Edwina to help me pick out a gift for my sister and we found some exquisite ribbon that will work quite nicely.”
Lord Dallington let out a bored sigh. “Women do love their ribbons.”
Miles bobbed his head in agreement. “Indeed, they do.”
Bennett leaned forward in his seat. “Shall we finally play that game of pall-mall tomorrow morning?” he asked.
“I have no objections,” Miles replied before he shifted his gaze to Edwina. “What do you say?”
As Edwina reached for her glass of water, she remarked, “I think that sounds like great fun. I shall send word to Miss Bawden.”
“Wonderful,” Bennett said, clasping his hands together. “And in the afternoon, we shall go shooting and make a competition out of it.”
The footman placed a bowl of soup in front of Miles as he leaned to the side to reach for his spoon. “That hardly seems fair, considering I was a sharpshooter in the war.”
“But have you picked up a pistol since the war?” Bennett asked knowingly.
Miles grew solemn and he worked hard to keep the anguish out of his expression. “No, because I have seen enough death to last a lifetime.”
Bennett’s face softened with understanding. “If you would prefer, we could do something else instead.”
“It is all right,” Miles responded, forcing a small, strained smile to his lips. “It is something that needs to be done sooner rather than later.”
Miles turned his attention towards his bowl of soup and began to eat, retreating to his own thoughts. To some, it may have seemed silly that he had avoided guns for all this time, but it was a constant reminder of the lives he had taken. Each gunshot echoed in his mind, each life lost weighing heavily on his conscience.
Moreover, and no less significant, he had lost his brother in a duel. One single shot irrevocably altered his life forever. The mere thought of holding another pistol made his stomach churn.
Edwina’s voice broke through his thoughts. “Are you all right, my lord?”
Miles turned his head towards her. “I will be.”
And that was the truth.
Edwina’s presence seemed to calm his racing mind and bring him a sense of comfort and solace that he so desperately craved.
Chapter Twelve
Edwina sat in the drawing room, her fingers delicately pulling the needle out of the fabric as she waited for Miss Bawden to arrive. Although her mind was far from being focused on her needlework. Instead, it was consumed by thoughts of Miles. But it was pointless to even think of him. He was so deeply in love with his late wife that she doubted his heart would ever recover.
One day, she hoped to have a love such as his, one that extended far after death. Her parents had shared a love like that.
Frustrated by her wandering thoughts, Edwina lowered the fabric to her lap. Why was she even thinking about this? She may have some inconvenient feelings for Miles, but they were not reciprocated. So what was the point of even dwelling on them? She had other more pressing matters. Her uncle had a whole other family and was trying to cheat her out of her inheritance. Yes. She should focus on that.
And yet, despite all logic telling her otherwise, her heart refused to let go of the image of Miles, his warm smile and kind eyes haunting her every thought.
White stepped into the room and announced, “Miss Bawden has arrived, my lady.”
Edwina perked up, grateful for a reprieve from her thoughts. “Please send her in.”
With a tip of his head, White spun on his heel to do her bidding.
It was only a moment before Miss Bawden entered the room with a bright smile on her face. “Good morning,” she greeted. “I trust that you slept well.”