Edwin returned from London three days later. Lydia was in the garden with her basket harvesting the last of the cucumbers. She and the cook were poised to spend the afternoon making pickles—sweet, dill, relish, and bread and butter.

She looked up when the carriage drew into the stable yard. As Edwin got out of the carriage he saw Lydia, waved to her, and shook his head. She knew that meant that he had been unable to secure the settlement until after the marriage.

That had to be a blow for Edwin. However, she still had plenty of work to do here, and it would not be that long before she would be heading off with Ellen to London. Lydia had to admit she was becoming excited by the prospect.

In the meantime, she figured Edwin would want to continue working on the drawings and floor plans. At least she hoped he would. Although she still had some apprehension about them working closely together. They had not spent much time alone since the engagement party.

Lydia finished harvesting the cucumbers and lugged the large basket to the kitchen where the cook was waiting with crocks, cider vinegar, bags of salt and sugar, and jars of spices ready to start the pickling process.

They set to work right away, with Lydia slicing the cucumbers and the cook and her assistant boiling pots of vinegar, water and dumping in salt and sugar.

Lydia wiped her brow with the back of her hand. The kitchen was hot, and she had been slicing for nearly an hour now.

Edwin came into the kitchen and motioned for her to come over.

“So your trip was not successful?” she asked.

“Not in the way I had hoped. No. But it was nice to be in the London townhouse. It has been a while since I was up there. And it let me realize I may not want to keep it after the marriage. It is far too expensive to maintain with staff, maintenance, and taxes.”

“Then what about Ellen? She is planning to move there. Will she need to find another place to live?”

“I will not be selling it right away. She will have plenty of time to see what she wants to do. She may decide she doesn’t even want to stay in London. And there is always the possibility that she may want to marry.”

“Of course.”

Edwin reached into his pocket and pulled out a letter.

“And I was asked to deliver this to you.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

“It is from Daniel. He gave it to me just before I left.” Edwin looked up and surveyed the kitchen. “Smells nice in here. You are pickling, I see.”

“Yes.”

“Very well. Perhaps tomorrow morning we can meet in the office and take a look at what can be done on our project with the limited funds available to us.”

Lydia nodded. “I will be there.”

Edwin turned and left. Lydia looked at the letter but decided not to open it just yet. There was still a lot of work to be done. She would save the letter and read it at home when she could give it her full attention.

* * *

Lydia sat back in her chair as Gingersnap jumped up into her lap. Lydia rested her head against the back of the chair as she petted the purring cat. She pulled out the letter and looked at it. She was a little apprehensive as she opened it, as she felt she and Daniel had not parted well at the end of the engagement dinner. That kiss had taken its toll.

Lydia laid the letter in her lap next to Gingersnap. She was grateful Daniel had recognized his folly and had apologized for it, but she still felt uncertain. She admired Daniel and was grateful for his company, but she was still too conflicted in her feelings for Edwin. Would they ever recede? How could she know?

She recognized that Daniel was a most suitable and desirable suitor. He would be considered a great catch by any young lady in her position. However, that recognition was not enough unto itself to convince her she wanted to pursue a relationship with the young Mr. Beaufort. The whole situation reminded her of her ex-beau, Henry Howell. Henry—whom she had nearly forgotten. How quickly the landscape changed. First, there was Henry, then Dr. Cooke, then Edwin, and now Daniel. How fraught with angst was the marriage game.

She must respond to Daniel’s letter. It was heartfelt and genuine. But oh, she had to admit her heart was not in it.

She wiped the thought from her mind and decided she would, for now, concentrate all her efforts on helping Jenny with the wedding.

* * *

And then the wedding day arrived. To everyone’s surprise, the night before the wedding there had been a huge snowstorm—a blizzard, with snowdrifts and frozen tree branches covered in ice.

The sound of limbs cracking under the weight of the ice sounded throughout Upper Magna.

Fortunately, Lydia had stayed over at the Lovell’s house the night before the wedding. She was needed to help with the bride’s hair, makeup, and dress. And they needed to start early, as the wedding ceremony was at ten o’clock. Lydia had slept in Jenny’s room and the two were awakened at six with shouts from Graham as he opened the front door to find a mound of snow blocking the entrance.

“Shovels! Brooms! All hands on deck,” he bellowed throughout the house.

Lydia got out of bed, went to the window, and pulled back the curtain.

“Oh, Lord, help us,” she exclaimed.

“What?” Jenny asked groggily, as she sat up on one elbow.

“We are snowed in,” Lydia shouted.

Jenny sprang out of bed and rushed to the window and let out a shriek.

Graham suddenly knocked at the bedroom door and opened it.

“Fear not, fair ladies. Papa and I shall make a pathway to the road. All is not lost,” he said and disappeared.

“I will be right back,” Lydia said, as she bounded out of the bedroom and ran downstairs. She rushed to the kitchen and found Lydia’s mother making breakfast and tea. She looked up and laughed.

“What a day for a wedding, eh?”

“What can I do to help?” Lydia asked.

“Best go calm the daughter. I shall be right up with tea and toast. Maybe you can start on the hair.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Lydia said and loped up the stairs.

“Jenny, your mother is making tea. She will be right up.”

“Oh,” was all Jenny could say. She was digging through her chest of drawers. “I can’t find my grandmother’s cameo. I wanted to wear it today in memory of her.”

Lydia went over and took Jenny by the arm and led her to the bed and sat her down on the edge of it.

“Calm down. We will find it. We are going to set your hair, paint your face, get you into your lovely wedding gown and find your cameo. But all in good time.”

“Do you think Charlotte will make it over here to help us?”

“Does not matter if she does or not. We are going to get you all pretty and to the church in plenty of time. Do not worry.”

“What a stroke of genius that you stayed over. Just imagine if you were stuck up at Honeyfield. I do not think your little pony could manage with all this snow.”

“Well, at least you can say you had a white wedding,” Lydia said laughing.

Mother appeared with the tea tray.

She said, “A man just appeared at the front door. He is a nephew of the Doctor. He just wanted to check in and see if we were all right. But I really think he was checking up on us to see if we were going to be on time at the church.”

“What did you tell him?” Jenny asked.

“I told him the Lovells have never been late to a wedding before and are not about to start today. Now drink your tea.”

* * *

Jenny’s Uncle Thornton was standing at the bar belting out a chorus of Tammy’s Little Secret. He was deep in the cups, and the louder he sang, the redder his nose got.

But there was so much other commotion in the dining room at the inn, hardly anyone even noticed.

The bride and groom were seated at a long table with the most immediate of each family seated on either side.

Lydia had been invited to that table, but she declined, saying only family should sit here. Jenny had protested that she was family, but Lydia said she would rather step away and admire the whole scene from afar.

The truth was, Lydia was very emotional. This wedding reminded her of what Edwin and Caroline were soon to have, and she still felt raw from the shock of Edwin saying he must marry the Earl’s daughter.

The room was packed. Lydia found a seat at a table at the side of the room. She wished to evade the swirl of people, drinking, dancing, and celebrating all around her. She wiped away a tear, telling herself it was out of happiness for Jenny, but she knew better.

There was a buffet table where people were in a line filling up their plates but Lydia was not hungry, and instead just sat and sipped at a cider Graham had brought her earlier.

Lydia began to worry. She was feeling exactly as she had at the engagement dinner. She knew she should be so happy for Jenny and Reginald, but all she could feel was sadness.

She must have looked quite forlorn for Graham came over and sat at the table with her.

“Miss Lydia, why are you not dancing? I know our poor excuse for an orchestra is not up to the standards of a ball at Honeyfield, but we are a merry lot and everyone likes a good old-fashioned country dance. Will you join me?”

Lydia managed a weak smile. “Of course, Graham, it would be my honor.”

They stood, and Graham escorted her to the cramped dance floor. The spirits of the dancers were high, and the exuberance of the music and the dancers caught them up in a swirl of celebration.

Lydia began to enjoy herself. She had indulged in too much brooding, she thought. It was fine to let go and enjoy the gaiety of the occasion. And she found Graham to be a lively partner. He raised his knees high and spun around on the turns, throwing his arms into the air.

They continued on in high spirits for several dances, but Lydia had become thirsty and asked to be excused from the next dance.

“What would you like to drink?” Graham asked. “I believe there are all the standard pub drinks, plus, because of the occasion, we ordered champagne for the ladies and gentleman amongst this otherwise rowdy crowd.”

“I quite enjoyed the cider you brought me previously. I should like another one of those if you please.”

“Of course, I shall be right back.”

As Graham headed to the crowded bar, Lydia stepped aside, to avoid the crush of the dancers. She leaned against a pillar and scanned the room. Jenny and Reginald were caught up in laughing conversations with their families. And it looked as though the in-laws were chatting and getting to know one another.

Lydia’s gaze swept to the entrance of the dining room and, with a sudden jolt, saw Edwin standing at the doorway surveying the room. And how extremely handsome he looked. His hat was in his hand and his wild, unruly hair fell around his face. His cheeks were ruddy from the cold and he brushed some snow off his broad shoulders.

He stood for a moment looking at the bride and groom’s table and then began walking toward it. Lydia almost held her breath as he passed her. But he did not look at her, heading straight to the table.

Doctor Cooke and Jenny stood when he approached. Lydia could not hear what they were saying above the din of the music and the stomping of the dance, but it was clear that he had come to offer his congratulations.

Someone came forward and offered Edwin a glass of champagne, and he toasted the new couple. The Doctor gestured, offering Edwin a seat at the table but he waved his hand, indicating he was declining the offer. They chatted a few moments more and he turned away from the table. He scanned the room and locked eyes with Lydia and started walking toward her.

Just then Graham returned with her glass of cider.

“Oh, thank you,” Lydia said, as she became distracted. She saw Edwin hesitate and appear to change direction. Was he leaving the inn?

“If you would like to dance again, I would be up for it,” Graham said.

Lydia turned to him. “Oh Graham, thank you but not just at this moment. I…”

She turned back again to find Edwin, but she could not see him.

“Excuse me, one moment, Graham.”

Then she headed toward the entrance to see if Edwin was leaving.

She got to the door and looked into the inn’s lobby but he was not there. Disappointed, she turned to head back to the party but bumped full force into none other than Edwin. He spilled his drink over the front of his coat.

“Lydia, what an exuberant greeting,” he said laughing.

She stepped back in horror. “Oh, Edwin, I am so sorry. I had just gone looking for you.”

“And you found me.” He stepped backward and looked down at the spill on his coat. He wiped it with a handkerchief from his coat pocket.

“No one knew you were coming,” Lydia said, trying to normalize the conversation.

“I did not know either. However, I thought it would be the right thing to make an appearance to congratulate the good doctor and his new bride and your friend.”

“And you are most welcome.”

Lydia was holding her cider. Half of Edwin’s drink had been spilled and neither knew quite what to do or say next.

“I think, perhaps, I should go,” Edwin finally said.

“Oh, please, not yet. You have only just arrived, and in this weather, you must at least warm up before you leave again. It will, no doubt, be a cold and windy trip back to Honeyfield.”

He studied her for a moment. “Very well, for a short while, but might there be somewhere we might go that is not so boisterous. It does not seem conducive to a proper conversation.”

Lydia looked around the room and seeing nothing suitable, suggested, “I believe the lobby has some quiet areas with comfortable seating.”

“Let me refresh my drink and I shall join you.”

He turned back toward the bar, and she went to find a place where they could visit quietly. She found two upholstered chairs by the fireplace with a cozy, dancing fire.

She sat in one of the chairs and was soon joined by Edwin, who sat his drink on the small table between the two chairs.

“How long have you known Mrs. Cooke?” Edwin asked.

That took Lydia by surprise as she had not yet thought of Jenny as Mrs. Cooke. She was just her good friend, Jenny. She had to smile.

“Since the very moment, I moved here. She lived next door to my aunt and we became instant and fast friends.”

“It is good to have such a friend.”

That made Lydia realize Edwin had never spoken to her of any close friends.

“Edwin, do you have such a friend? Certainly, a man of your stature must have many friends?”

Edwin was silent for a moment. “You are my friend,” he said.

That took her by surprise and she blinked several times. “But no male friends? Certainly, you must have friends from school or university?”

“Life is a bit different for a duke. I never attended a public school. I was tutored at home—by Nanny Scofield. She was strict, but an excellent educator. And, as the duke apparent, there were no youngsters in the local area thought to be appropriate playmates for ‘one such as I.’

“And I did not attend a conventional university. Instead, I traveled—which I found to be much more useful than a formal education. I discovered my interests, and when I found a new passion, I would study on the spot. I would use libraries, seek local teachers—exalted or humble—and little by little I formed my current life. And that is how I found my great passion for the arboretum.

“But to answer your second question, no, I have no close male friends. There is only you.”

“And Ellen? Surely you must think of her as a friend too?”

“Yes. And Ellen.”