Page 55 of Hot Duke Summer

“W hat if somebody recognizes me as nothing but a flower girl?” Lola twitched uncomfortably when Edmund offered his arm and led her to the white tent alongside the green race track.

“The Ton don’t procure their own flowers or herbs. You look like a lady, and nobody knows where you’re from.”

Somehow, Edmund’s reassurance stung, but Lola smiled, ready for her last day by his side. The end of her fairy tale would soon come, and she’d revert to her old life. Edmund would remain nothing but a memory while she waited for her brother’s return, or even remained alone forever.

In the tent, a buffet with refreshments, cold champagne in polished glass flutes, trays of petits fours, and cubed cheeses caught Lola’s eye.

“It’s a picnic,” Edmund said, “help yourself.”

For her, a picnic meant a basket of apples and sandwiches. She didn’t recognize anyone except Brewster on the other side of the room speaking with a fair-skinned woman who eyed the other guests from her perch under a parasol that she twirled like a bayonet.

Edmund led Lola to a pair of two women, who looked a lot alike. “May I present Mrs. Cavendish and Lady Olson?”

“How nice to meet you, Lady Viola, is it?” the red-lipped one asked as she gave Lola a cool once-over.

“Just Miss,” Lola said with a curtsy. She wasn’t sure if this was what it took, but she wanted to be professional; that was the deal with Edmund. Feelings aside, what had happened last night could easily be chalked to a list of escapades. Hers only had this one entry. Perhaps he’d already forgotten that it was mere hours since… since… Lola flushed at the thought.

“Well, Miss Viola, Edmund here is the catch of the Ton and has eluded us for years.”

“We just couldn’t wait for him any longer,” the other one said, batting her lashes at him.

“They are sisters, Lola, and you ought to know that they’ve quite mastered the art of favorable marriages. Good day, ladies.” Edmund began to lead her away.

Just when Lola thought they could escape the fangs of these ladies, Brewster waved Edmund over.

“Would you please excuse me for a moment? I think he’s found the Lord Chancellor, who could secure some sway for our restoration plan in Parliament.”

And he was off.

Lola, at sea among the women in expensive gowns and accessories, tugged at her bonnet, stifled by the tight bow that kept it in place.

“It suits you,” said someone behind her.

Lola turned to find James Marlowe, the grandson of the man whose estate Edmund was trying to annex. “I hear you have much set on the favorite horse,” she said, unsure how to converse with Edmund’s opponent even though he was no more than twenty and looked rather friendly.

“The horse is mine, and I’m the jockey,” James said. “Would you like to meet her?”

*

“She’s talking to Marlowe,” Brewster said when the Lord Chancellor had left.

Edmund, from afar, admired the beauty who’d captured his heart. “It’s harmless. They’re just talking.”

“We only have the deal in Parliament if Marlowe retains his lands. Should he lose his estate in the race before the vote on Monday morning, all we’ve worked for is null.”

“Then we find another way to expand.” Edmund was only half listening, as Lola threw her head back and laughed heartily at something the young Marlowe said.

“How do you know she’s not working for them?” Brewster asked.

“She’s not.”

“Nobody else knows this girl. Where did you even find her?”

Edmund crossed his arms. “That’s none of your concern.”

“It is as if she’s risking the deal. So where? Tell me!”

“At the apothecary on Harley Street.”

“As a patient?”

“As his supplier of fresh herbs and blooms.”

Brewster elbowed Edmund in the arm. “Seriously? A flower girl?” He walked away, laughing. “A flower girl and a duke, it’s too darn absurd.”

Lola turned as Brewster approached her, crossed her arms, and turned back to the young Marlowe.

When Edmund returned to Lola’s side, James Marlowe took his leave to prepare for the race.

“What did he tell you?” Edmund asked.

“Nothing in particular.” Lola’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. Nor did she make eye contact with Edmund.

“But you laughed.”

“So I did.”

“About what?”

“A jest.”

Edmund narrowed his eyes. “Lola, he’s the enemy.”

“Then why did you bring me here? To embarrass me if you don’t trust that I can carry on a polite conversation without jeopardizing your precious deal to exploit Northumberland?”

“Lola.” Edmund reached for her, but she jerked away.

“Miss Viola, please meet my wife.” Brewster presented the skinny fair woman from earlier.

“I hear you can work wonders with blooms, darling. Perhaps you could come to my gardens sometime and advise the staff.” His wife left, leaving a frigid hole in the atmosphere.

Lola blinked.

“And when you’re done—” Brewster winked at her—“I’ll show you my favorite spots in the bushes.”

Lola ran. She didn’t know where to go, she just ran away from the green and toward the cobblestone streets.