Page 24 of The Reclusive Earl's Scandal
“Edward,” she said, placing a hand on his arm. He immediately relaxed. “I know. But here is my secret. I like men who read because they do not always listen to my chattering, and if I ever say anything I regret, and they have heard, then I simply confuse them and tell them they are mixing my words with the ones they have read. Terrible, I know, but a lady must chatter to her heart’s content, and sometimes she indeed slips up and says something awfully wrong which includes some gossip.”
“Oh, no,” Edward groaned. “Not you, too.”
“What do you mean?” she cried, laughter loosening the fear that had burrowed in her chest after Harry’s outburst.
“Gossiping! It is all you ladies do.”
“Oh, do excuse me, Lord Thornshire, who will gather among all the other lords and discuss ladies just as much as we discuss men. Tell me, howisthe Greenacre these days? A popular gathering place, I hear. Men call us fit to burn, yet you are all just as terrible.”
“I will have you know I do not participate in gossiping,” he told her, his smile easily appearing. She liked how it curled his lips in a way it never used to. He used to once look like he carried the weight of the world, even when he was so young, andhe still did—perhaps even more, really—but she enjoyed that she could make him laugh. She liked how genuinely he did laugh. Everybody else was too false, too loud, but Edward… he was genuine.
“No?” she jested. “You did not gather with Lord Thomas Willoughby and...”
“No,” he told her quickly. “I did not attend the outing. I…” He swallowed, the movement making his throat bob. “I panicked and requested he mention my name should anybody ask if I was there. My mother found out I did not attend and was not happy.”
“Is that why you were not at Lord and Lady Ashfordly’s ball?”
“Oh, no, my mother would force me to attend a punishment, if anything. But that was another panicked moment.”
“And what of the next ball?” Rebecca enquired, finding herself hopeful he’d agree to go. “It is being held at the Farren townhouse.”
“Why?” he asked, smirking. “Did you look for me at the Ashfordly’s?”
“I did, actually.” A warmth spread over her cheeks. “As you once looked for me at every garden party our fathers dragged us to. I still recall when I found you and got so excited to embrace you that we stumbled into the vase of flowers on the podium and sent them flying all over the lawn.”
Edward’s head snapped to her, his mouth parting. “Heavens, I had forgotten about that.”
“You ought not to! It was a pivotal moment. I was ever so bored, only ten years old, and there you were, arriving very late with a book tucked beneath your arm.”
“My mother was ever so unimpressed.” He grimaced. Then he nodded after a moment. “I will attend the Farrens’ ball, butdo not knock us into a vase of flowers this time in excitement to see me.”
Rebecca feigned a scoff. “Excited to see you? I shall bathe in the attention of my suitors; I shall barely notice you. And then I will glance over, meet your eye, and find you drowning in a sea of ladies who all vouch for your attention. Andafter that, we shall find a vase to sneak behind.”
Too late, she realized how suggestive her words sounded, but before she could correct herself, her lady’s maid called for them to exit the park, saying that they ought to be getting back. At the gate, Rebecca hesitated. It was improper to embrace him as they had jested about doing as children, but it didn’t seem right to formally bid him farewell.
In the end, Edward took her hand and brushed a kiss to her knuckles while Rebecca blinked up at him as he straightened. However, a smile played on his lips as he murmured, “until the Farrens’ ball, then, Lady Rebecca.”
And, for some reason, that change to formality, as if they were a courting couple properly saying goodbye, made Rebecca blush even when the earl had long walked away.
***
The following afternoon, Rebecca returned from her tea outing, stopping short when she saw her father standing in the hallway, glaring at her.
“Yes, Father?” she asked tentatively, not confrontational, and stepped back when she saw his bloodshot eyes. She swallowed at the sight of her mother hovering in the doorway to the music room, her hands reaching for the duke, but never touching.
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
“To the tea shop,” she said. “With Lady Catherine and Lady Mary. I told you...”
“Tea shop,” her father sneered, scoffing. “Do you think we have the money for such things?”
“I do not know,” Rebecca bit back. “Dowe? You are the ones who handles our money.”
“Rebecca.” His voice dropped as he sauntered closer to her. She didn’t see her father as a threat, but he was an unpredictable force, and Rebecca had only ever heard his drunken ramblings from afar. He wasn’t violent when drunk, but he was accusatory, and Rebecca feared what he would say. Every interaction with every suitor ran through her head.
Had one figured out the family’s secret? Had she slipped up and couldn’t recall? Had one seen through her carefully woven mask of wit and charm?
“I found my letter in the sun room,” her father said, and Rebecca jolted. She remembered the day she had swiped her father’s correspondence before hurrying out to meet her friends and had not taken care to hide the stolen letter from sight. “I do not peruse the room, and your mother would not read my letters. My eldest, however… my ever-so-calculating, clever eldest, who somehow sees everything and silently judges, silentlyacts… she was my first thought. Why was it there, Rebecca?”
