Page 76 of How to Ruin a Duke
Jeremiah ran with a crowd of inebriated idlers who challenged each other with the most ridiculous and dangerous wagers.
“Jeremiah was involved in every embarrassing, inane incident portrayed inHow to Ruin a Duke, Mama.Most of them I undertook to spare him a lost wager, a dangerous prank, or a stupid duel.I suspect my own brother is literally the author of my present difficulties.”
“Don’t kill him,” Mama said.“If anybody is to wring his wretched neck it should be me, but Thaddeus?”
He stopped halfway to the door.“I’ll do better, Mama.I will take you driving when you don’t ask it of me, I will inquire after your health.I will find you another companion who—”
She patted his chest.“Stop.If you turn up doting on me now, I will disown you.About Lady Edith?”
The Lady Edith who was entirely innocent of wrongdoing?“Yes?”
“She fancied you.She was discreet about it, she never said a word, but she knew when you’d come home at night from the way the front door closed.She learned how you take your tea.She knows you cannot be trusted around Italian cream cake.”
“Neither can she.”
“Well there you have it.You’d never want for something to bicker over if you married her.”
“Married her?”
“She’s an earl’s daughter, you fancied her too, and Jeremiah will have to remain in the army for at least several years before he can sell his commission.Now go pummel your brother.”
She kissed his cheek and shoved him on the arm.
“Mama, I can for once promise that your wish will be my command.”He stalked from the room, though—drat the damned luck—the butler reported that Jeremiah was out, and had not said when to expect him home.
“Edie,why didn’t you tell me you’d gone to the agencies again?”Foster’s question was more hurt than chiding, though he’d waited until the maid of all work had withdrawn from the breakfast parlor to pose it.
“Because I’ve been to the agencies many times.I did not expect a post to become available.”Except that this time, Edith had told the sniffy little clerk that she was willing to accept a position anywhere in Britain except London.She’d had three choices within a matter of days.
“You’ll come back to see my opening night won’t you?”Foster asked, setting the teapot near her elbow.
“I made that a condition of accepting the offer.Manchester isn’t so very far away.”
“Manchester is more than 200 miles on bad roads, Edie.You couldn’t find anything closer?”
Both of the other positions had been closer.“The household in Manchester will suit me.I won’t have to face polite society again, and you can’t know what a relief that will be.”
Every tall man striding along the walk in a top hat and morning attire gave Edith a start, and she’d bid Emory farewell nearly ten days ago.
Foster poured her a third cup of tea—luxury upon luxury—and sat back.“You don’t have to face polite society here either.I only mentioned working at the theater because I love being there, and I thought you liked having your own money.You could do more writing, which you seem to delight in, and I wouldn’t have to fret that you’re perishing of cold and overwork in the north.”
“I won’t perish.”If watching Emory march away, and not hearing from him at all, not even the obligatory anonymous bouquet, hadn’t felled her, nothing would.
“You won’t flourish either.Anybody who can sit at that writing desk for more than a week straight, scribbling away hour after hour, has a vocation not to be ignored.Your book is quite witty and deserves to be published.”
How many times in recent months had Edith longed for even a second cup of tea?She was on her third of the morning, and it did nothing to comfort the hollow ache she’d carried for days.
“If the book has promise, that’s because I had months to study my subject.”And she’d have the rest of her life to wonder what had sent him out the door in such an odd mood.“Emory is the soul of decency, of that I have no doubt.”Perhaps he’d had bad experiences with women before, women who clung and tried to extort promises from him.
No matter.He was gone and he wasn’t coming back.
“But you aren’t even attempting to find a publisher,” Foster said.“The past six months have taken a toll on you.The Edie who all but raised me would be waving that manuscript under the noses of every publisher in Town, and why you won’t allow me to make inquiries on your behalf utterly defeats my—”
“Please, Foster.You’ll be late for rehearsal.”She’d written that manuscript out of a need to exorcise a broken heart, or perhaps to justify her decision to become intimate with Emory.He was a good man, a bit stern, a bit imposing, but good.The way he’d left her, nary a word of explanation, wasn’t in keeping with his character.
The other duke, theHow to Ruin a Dukefellow,hewould have availed himself of a lady’s favors and then dodged off to his clubs to brag of his exploits.
“I’m away then,” Foster said, rising.“I wish you’d reconsider leaving London—and me.I will miss you desperately.”He kissed her cheek and bustled off to a job that was making him happier by the day.
