Page 90 of A Bluestocking for the Wicked Duke

Emma shook her head.

Nothing.

“She looks displeased, if I didn’t know better I would say displeased at us,” Joane answered him.

She looked at his face to read his reaction but he was as cool as a cucumber. He looked like he understood without giving off too many definitive reactions.

“I’ll talk to her after our dance which will end anytime now,” Lord James replied.

“I’ll talk to her too,” Joane said.

“No.”

She looked back at Lord James’ clean-shaven face.

“Why won’t I talk to her?” she asked him.

“I will need you to come with me to the garden. I need a private place and I need to ask you particular questions. Please oblige me,” he said.

Joane nodded her head. She had taken the dance with him; why not listen to what he had to say.

He wants to talk about William, undoubtedly.

She nodded to him.

“Thank you,” he told her.

She turned her head to look for William. She couldn’t find him or Esther; they were not on the dance floor. She looked over Lord James’ shoulder, scanning all the couples she could.

They aren’t here. Why will William go anywhere with Esther, alone?

The music ended making she and Lord James ease to a stop. Lord James bowed again as she curtseyed and walked her away from the dance floor. He went straight to the big entrance door, not bothering to look at Emma. Joane tugged along as her hand was firmly in his grip but turned back to look at her friend who was watching them with wonder and anger. Joane signaled to her with her free hand.

We’ll be back very soon.

Emma did not understand; she opened her palms upwards, gesturing confusion. Before Joane could reply, her feet touched the stairs. She turned back, looking at the steps she was taking. Lord James walked fast, saying nothing. He followed the turn of the house when they got to the side of the house, dragging her along with him. Joane opened her mouth in wonderment on seeing what lay behind the house.

This isn’t a garden, this is an orchard.

Joane had forgotten about the popular Bedford orchard. It was acclaimed to be one of the most beautiful arrangements of greenery in England. Flowers bloomed at the entrance, throwing so much colour into the green that Joane felt her mood lighten substantially. There was a walkway that led into the orchard and Lord James led her on it. He walked past the entrance, past the apple and orange trees and turned right when he got to the huge stone bowls of water. Joane glimpsed fish, exotic fish swimming in them. She eased her hand out of his grip, Lord James kept walking. She saw a big wooden garden bench after the bowls. Someone was on it. She could only see the person’s hair; it was flowing backwards with some strands coming off at rebellious angles. His hair was a dull yellow, shaded by the cool orchard afternoon light. It was William. He turned back to look at them and smiled.

“You didn’t tell me Mr. William would be here too,” she said to Lord James.

He turned back to answer her.

“Do you want us to just talk about him or you would prefer hearing everything from the horse’s mouth?” Lord James answered.

“Well said,” Joane replied.

William stood up and walked behind the bench, waiting for them to get to him. Lord James got to him first. He placed his hand on William’s shoulder, rubbing the shoulder gently. Joane stood behind Lord James. Her face was a grim mask, belying the turmoil she felt inside. She kept fighting the urge to throw herself at him and tell him she now understood.

“Thank you, Miss Hardwater, for not turning around when you saw me,” William said.

Lord James edged back from between them, bringing William and Joane into direct view of each other. Joane nodded in response to William’s initial sentence. William pointed to the bench.

“Can we sit?” he said.

Joane nodded again, walking around the end of the seat and taking her seat at the extreme end of the bench.