When she entered the ladies’ room Lydia saw Ellen seated at a dressing table. She went over and pulled up a chair to sit next to her.

“Are you enjoying your birthday celebration?” she asked.

“Most assuredly,” Ellen said, turning to Lydia and smiling.

“And who was that most handsome gentleman I saw dancing with you earlier?” Lydia asked.

Ellen smiled. “Oh, yes. I know who you mean. That is one of Edwin’s dearest friends down from London for the ball. He is to be staying a few days longer, and I mean to torture him for information about London. I am hoping my birthday present from Edwin is permission to go, and a carriage ride to the townhouse.”

“Might the young man also be a reason to stay in London?” Lydia asked.

“He might be,” Ellen said with an enigmatic smile.

“What is his name? He is not one of the Huntley sons, is he?”

“Oh, heavens no. His name is Bartley Evens. And take a guess…”

“Yes?”

“His father is a publisher, and Bartley is himself a poet.”

“Oh, Ellen…”

“Wish me luck. I am to dance the last dance of the evening with him.”

“And you will have a few days to get to know one another better before he returns to London.”

“I shall.”

Ellen got up from the table. “Enjoy the rest of the ball.” She started to leave but turned back. “Are you having a good time?”

“Very much so. It is a lovely celebration for a most worthy young lady.”

Ellen bowed her head and left.

As Lydia was herself, about to leave, Jenny came into the room and, seeing Lydia, cornered her and said, “Tell me your news. It is some delicious scandal?”

Lydia laughed. “Scandal? No. Why would you suspect a scandal?

“It is the night of the ball—a night ripe for intrigue and scandal.”

Lydia laughed. “Jenny, you read too many torrid novels. I am afraid I am going to disappoint you with my news now.”

“But tell me anyway.”

She nodded several times and said, “Very well, I have decided to stay in Upton Magna. I am going to work with Edwin, and he is renting me a worker’s cottage on the estate where I can live. There, that is the news. Not very shocking is it?”

“Oh, Lydia—most shocking. Are you staying because of the Doctor? Or is it because of the Duke?

“Neither. Both. I don’t know. But it feels like the right thing to do. I shall bid a fond farewell to Aunt and I shall be a waif all on my own.”

“Oh, Lydia, you are not alone. You have me, you have the Doctor, Ellen, my family, and you have Edwin. Sounds like a very supportive group of friends to me.”

Lydia nodded in acknowledgement. “Yes, there is much to be grateful for.”

“But I shall miss having you live next door. We can’t just run over at the slightest whim anymore.”

“But that might be a blessing. We both are far too likely to distract ourselves and not get any serious work done.”

“So you will be living on the estate? Is it a nice cottage?”

“I think so. It is small, but will suit Gingersnap and me quite nicely.”

“But how will you get about? What about shopping and visiting me?”

“I can walk. I am quite used to it and enjoy it, even. I may not get into the village quite as often, but I can manage.”

“On the back of Edwin’s horse, perhaps,” she said, grinning.

“Oh, Jenny, please… that was a one-time event. Remember he is my employer and a gentleman of rank.

“And you are a very attractive and eligible young lady.”

Lydia put her hand up to stop Jenny from saying anything further and said, “I must go. I have promised Doctor Cooke another dance, and the evening is winding along.”

“Very well.” Jenny looked a little sad. “And let me know if you need any help with the wedding or packing for your aunt.”

Lydia turned to leave the room and raised her hand to acknowledge Jenny’s offer.

As Lydia entered the ballroom she realized how stuffy it was, and she wandered over to where the French doors were open to the balustrade. She stood and found some relief in the cool breeze lightly wafting inside.

It was the custom in this part of Shropshire to play a signature dance just before the last dance of the evening, signaling that the evening was about to end, and the orchestra had just begun playing that dance. Lydia realized that if she was to have her last dance with the Doctor she must find him now. She scanned the room and saw him coming toward her.

“This is our last chance for another dance. Shall we?” he asked, offering her his hand.

“Certainly, thank you, Reginald.”

He led her to the edge of the dance floor, ready to begin dancing when the current dance had ended.

Already many of the older couples were beginning to head toward the entrance, hoping to fetch their carriages before the crush at the end.

When the current dance ended, Reginald smiled and escorted Lydia to the floor. The last dance of the evening. Couples were lined up ready to begin. The orchestra started up the opening bars of the music when Lydia looked behind Reginald and saw Edwin tapping him on his shoulder. Reginald looked around and saw the Duke.

“I am so sorry, Doctor Cooke, but might I have this last dance with Miss Lydia. I have not had the opportunity to ask her until now.”

Lydia could see the disappointment on Reginald’s face, but what could he say? It was the Duke asking.

“Of course, Your Grace.” And he stood back and away, and let Edwin step forward.

Lydia looked up into Edwin’s eyes as he took her hand and they began to dance. And as they danced she could not look away. They did not speak but simply looked at each other. They followed the steps as if in a dream. Lydia was not aware of any of the other dancers. It was like they were dancing in a halo of their own light. All else was in darkness. She could feel the warmth of his hand, and the intensity of his gaze, and yet she was calm. There was no surging emotion, but only a quiet feeling of peace. There was a rightness to his touch, to his strength, to his total captivation of her heart. It just was.

After the dance was over, Edwin kissed the back of her hand and bowed. He smiled his sweet smile, and then said, “Shall I see you again on Friday? I thought we might work on the pear trees. I noticed the other day they seemed to have some abnormal growths that might need addressing.”

Lydia nodded, but couldn’t answer. He turned and walked toward his Mother and Ellen.

What had just happened? Lydia felt like she had just been cast out of heaven. One moment she was in a blissful state of euphoria and grace with Edwin, and the next moment she was being asked to think about abnormal growths on the pear trees. Had their dance meant nothing to him? Was what she had felt been completely one sided? She did not see how that could be. But what else could explain his startling behavior?

She was jolted out of her thoughts by Jenny taking her arm.

“Father is ready to leave,” Jenny said. “And Mother is feeling quite tired. Let me just round up Graham and we can be off.”

“Very well,” Lydia just managed to say.

Lydia drew her shawl closer around her shoulders as they waited on the entrance steps for their carriage. It seemed to take forever and all Lydia wanted to do just then was to go home and fall into bed.

Mercifully, Jenny was preoccupied with her mother, as Lydia could not imagine dealing with Jenny’s prattle or questions about the ball or anything else at that moment.

Finally, the carriage arrived and they stepped inside. Lydia stared out the window as Honeyfield receded until they turned the bend and it disappeared.

Lydia rested her head against the back of the seat, closed her eyes, and remembered—of course, what had she been thinking? He was the Duke of Shropshire. She was the daughter of a lowly vicar and his employee. What did she imagine was going to happen? He danced with her out of duty and to be a good host. He had no feelings for her—could have no feelings for her. They were as separate as oil and water. And realizing that, she settled back in the seat and quenched any possibility of tears.

* * *

Lydia had no time to think any more about the ball. There were two looming urgent tasks—the wedding, just a week and a half away, and the move. Fortunately, Aunt and Bernard were focused on the decisions regarding the wedding, but it did occupy most of their time, and Lydia was left the task of continuing to run the household.

Poor Gingersnap was perplexed by all the goings on and spent a great deal of time hiding under Lydia’s bed.

And when Lydia was not preparing meals, or doing the washing, or shopping, she was packing away her aunt’s lifetime of household possessions in boxes provided by the removers—with Jenny’s occasional help.

Lydia stopped by Doctor Cooke’s office one morning when she was shopping to say hello, but he was with a patient. She scribbled a short note and tucked it under his office door.

She was beginning to somewhat dread her next appointment with Edwin to work on the orchard. However, she knew this work was going to be the source of her income from now on and it was necessary to find a way to continue working comfortably with His Grace—for that is how she must think of him moving forward.

She was already dressed in her work clothes when the carriage came to fetch her Friday morning. Riding to Honeyfield she decided to be friendly, but cool and aloof with Edwin from here on out.

When the carriage arrived there was no one to greet her. Lydia figured the staff assumed that she knew her way to the office by now, and, in reality, she was no longer a guest, but an employee.

As Lydia was passing by the stable on the way to the office she caught sight of Ellen mounting her horse, and her riding companion was none other than Edwin’s London friend, Bartley Evans. Lydia felt another stab of regret. Now Ellen was replacing her as a riding partner with this new gentleman.

But as they were riding away from the stable, Ellen saw Lydia and directed her horse over to her.

“Oh, Lydia, how lovely to see you. How have you been?”

Lydia shaded her eyes as she looked up at Ellen on the horse. “Just fine, thank you.”

“Are you busy with the wedding preparations?” Ellen asked.

“Not so much. But I am busy packing my aunt’s possessions for her move to Oxford.”

“And I am so excited to learn that you will be a close neighbor now. Edwin told me about you taking one of the cottages. That is so splendid. Now, we shall be closer, and when time allows, can go riding together. Edwin is very excited to have you here.”

That caught Lydia by surprise. And why was she allowing herself to be ambushed like this? She knew better than to be taken in by his seemingly kind words about her. Remember—he is a Duke, and you are a vicar’s daughter.

The young man came riding over to the two of them.

Ellen turned to him. “Bartley, this is my dear sister and friend, Lydia Fernside.”

“Hello, Lydia Fernside,” he said, tipping his hat. “Edwin has told me so much about you.” He had a generous smile and genuinely seemed pleased to meet her.

Lydia was becoming flustered and annoyed. Why were they both mentioning what Edwin said about her?

“Are you enjoying your stay at Honeyfield,” Lydia asked, trying to divert the attention from herself.

He turned and smiled at Ellen. “It has been most enjoyable, although I must soon return to London. And I have every hope that my sadness shall be brief, for I expect to welcome the delightful Miss Ellen to London quite soon.”

Lydia brightened. “Then your Mother and Brother have relented? You are to reside in London?”

“Shortly, but not right away. They insist I wait until the spring.”

“Then we shall be able to continue riding together until you leave?”

“We shall. But right now, we must be off, before it becomes too hot, and I start wilting like a just picked lettuce.”

Lydia laughed. “Enjoy your ride.”

She shaded her eyes again as the couple rode off into the fields. Her spirits felt somewhat lifted by Ellen’s good news. And she had to admit, she found Bartley Evans to be very appealing, and perhaps a good match for the free-spirted, Ellen.

But now it was time to work. She continued her journey to the office and was surprised to see that Edwin had not arrived just yet.

She busied herself with a seed catalogue at the table and when she looked up she saw Edwin standing in the doorway. He looked, quite uncharacteristically, disheveled.

“Edwin.”

“Miss Lydia. I…” He hesitated, as he entered further into the office.

“Are you all right, Your Grace?”

He stopped. “Why do you call me that?” he asked, seeming to be bothered by her greeting.

Lydia gathered herself and called upon her inner strength. “Because we will be working together now and it seems more appropriate to call you that, as we are now employer and employee.” She stood her ground.

He reached his hand out toward her but didn’t move any closer.

“Lydia… I, ah… I have something I need to say to you.”

“Very well.” Was she about to be let go?

“The night of the ball…”

“Yes?”

“I was so very happy to see you. You looked radiant when you arrived and I could not wait until we would have the opportunity to dance together.”

“I didn’t think you wanted that, as you waited until the very end to approach.”

“I got caught up. One of the cooks became seriously ill and I needed to attend to that. I didn’t want to disrupt the dance, so I made sure the situation was handled quietly.”

“Why did you not call upon Doctor Cooke for assistance?”

“It was too late by the time I got there. It is thought she had a fatal heart attack.”

“And she died?”

Edwin nodded. “I wanted to come to you earlier, but…

“I understand.” She was not going to be fired. But what did he want?

“Lydia, I just wanted to say that I was upset and agitated when we danced. It had nothing to do with you. And I feel that you might have felt slighted after the dance as I left so quickly. But I needed to inform Mother and Ellen. The lady had been with the family for a long time, and we were all very fond of her.”

Lydia nodded, and her damped down emotions suddenly exploded once again into a frenzy of longing and expectation—the hurt just melting away.

Edwin went around the table and stood in front of her. He reached out and took both of her hands.

“Lydia, I have a great warmth of feeling for you. I know this must come as a surprise, but I want you to know I hold you in great regard and esteem. Ever since you came into my life, I have not been able to stop thinking about you—talking about you to everyone. My mother is frantic to think that I might not pursue Miss Pamela Stafford, but I cannot help myself.”

Lydia could barely breathe. Her heart was racing.

“Oh, Edwin…”

“I must ask; do you think it is at all possible you might have any feelings for me—however slight?”

Lydia nodded and lowered her eyes. “Yes, Edwin, it is possible,” she said modestly.

A smile burst forth upon Edwin’s face. “Oh, Lydia. My Lydia, will you allow me to think I might one day hope that you can find it in your heart to consider my suit?”

Lydia was in a contented silence, then said, “Yes, Edwin, you may so hope.”

“Oh, Lydia…”

“But now, don’t you think it is time to get to work on the pear trees?” she said, most professionally.