“So, you are forced to suffer through the season because you are looking for a wife?” I stated the obvious.

“Y-yes,” the way he averted his gaze made it clear he did not enjoy the pursuit for his bride-to-be. A slight grimace rested on his face, which looked almost comical for his soft features deepened his boyish appearance.

“Well, there is still a month and a half to go, Your Grace,” I encouragingly smiled at him.

He looked a little disappointed with my answer, but I brushed off the reason as to why. I came for one reason only – to take a stroll along this ethereal growth and after that, Baxter Read and me will part our ways forever.

“How old are you If you don’t mind me asking?” I questioned him curiously. Most eligible bachelors - at least Jared’s friends were somewhere around 30 to 34 years old.

“I just t-turned 26 two m-months ago.”

“Your Grace, you’re still very young. Why are you in a hurry to find a wife? Most gentlemen settle down later in life.”

He stopped and crunched down to inspect a maple sapling. His fingers bushed against its green sprout before he gave me an answer.

“I-I had promised my f-father to produce an h-heir. But m-mostly because I am q-quite lonely o-on my estate and s-sometimes wish for a c-company. For s-someone to c-cherish me the w-way I cherish t-them.”

“Well, Your Grace, I must admit I admire the clarity of your goals. Most men your age either gamble their riches away or spent them on women,” I smiled when he looked up at me.

“N-nothing good c-comes out o-of gambling. As f-for w-women, I have n-no desire to s-seek a false c-compensation just b-because I wish to f-feel wanted. I b-believe it wouldn’t f-feel good nor r-right.”

He finally raised to his feet.

He was nothing like those gentlemen I met at the ball and nothing like Jared and his friends.

“Your Grace, you are so…. Peculiar,” I glanced into his eyes with the intention of figuring him out. Ever since I was young – like every lady - I was being schooled to become a wife someday, however the painted picture of gentlemen’s character was nowhere near as sensitive and timid as his.

“I-I am sorry,” he mumbled, once more looking down at the ground.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

“This wasn’t meant as an insult, Your Grace. You are a good example for other gentlemen,” snickering, I stepped past him. “You could perhaps start with Lord Tinley.”

With a rapid glance over my shoulder, I noticed his clenched fists. “W-was he b-bothering you again, My Lady? B-because if h-he was…”

“No, not since that night you chased him off,” I saw him visibly relax after I assured him the presumptuous Lord wasn’t a problem.

“Y-You must i-immediately t-tell me if h-he will. P-Promise me, L-Lady Ashlyn?”

“I don’t want to cause you any troubles, Your Grace.”

“You a-aren’t c-causing troubles, My Lady. I a-am not a-afraid of L-Lord Tinley,” his tone was flat and his irises burning with graveness.

“Thank you,” I whispered, grateful for his support.

As we continued our way through his mystic garden, I noticed a small stream, trickling over slick stones overgrown with moss. There was a big oak tree standing next to it, casting a shadow over the wooden bench that laid lazily beside its thick trunk.

“T-There,” I trailed his extended finger, pointing at something in the distance.

“Rose bushes,” I exhaled with wonder. And what bushes those were - opulent and overgrown. Rosebuds’ colors variated from white, coral, pale pink to pale peach, mixing with the shades of red. I neared the plants that were bathing in the afternoon sunlight, eyeing their fragile beauty with awe.

“Your Grace!” I exclaimed with a scolding tone. “And to think you cut so many just for me. What a waste of such beauty,” I traced my fingers over their silky petals.

“B-beauty for a b-beauty,” he whispered, his cheeks turning scarlet.

I heard Janine giggle behind us. She let out a loud snort and hurriedly slapped her hand over her mouth. “I apologize for my indiscretion,” she cleared her throat, straining to stifle yet another onslaught of laughter.

No matter the warning glances I was shooting her way, the joyful spirit was dampened with the thick awkwardness that had laid upon us.

“I grew up in Sussex,” I let out, trying to alleviate the sudden uncomfortable mood. “We used to have a rose garden like this, but much smaller.”

“W-which part?” I heard him say.

“Crawley. We had an estate there, but we had to sell it a few years ago,” I sighed wistfully. “I really miss the fresh air and all the animals.”

He nodded knowingly. “I c-cannot imagine w-what would I d-do i-if I’d be s-stuck here in L-London. My e-estate means e-everything to me.”

And then, when I already started to believe there was so much more than weather and horses beneath the thick layer of his exterior, he went and destroyed it all over again.

“It is q-quite misty t-today, isn’t i-it?” He proceeded to blabber. “They s-said that c-clouds are g-going to c-continue to t-thicken tonight, b-bringing even m-more rain t-than we h-had in the past d-days. Wind w-was also s-supposed to be r-really strong, s-somewhere around 35 mph.” his eyes turned toward the cloudy sky.

“How do you-”

“-M-Monday will be b-better. Rain s-showers will m-most definitely c-clear, but the b-breeze will be q-quite cold,” he cut me off.

“Your Grace, will you-”

“-This s-summer was q-quite short,” he murmured to himself. “Ah, w-what can b-be done.”

“Your Grace-”

“-By w-weekend, the w-weather will b-be drier w-with lighter winds, overnight a-accompanied by f-frost and f-fog, which may t-take a long t-time to clear on m-mornings.”

It was fruitless trying to talk to him when he went on one of his endless rants. He completely ignored me again, rambling on and nodding to himself.

My eyes darted to Janine, who stood a few steps behind us, her eyes wide with astonishment and suspicion.