Page 32 of The Reclusive Earl's Scandal
Edward Carmichael was good and kind; he was dependable, she thought, and he noticed her. Their conversations lifted her darker spirits, and always made her laugh. With him, she felt as though there was little need for any sort of mask or pretence. His wealth would keep her and her family comfortable, and although he didn’t know her predicament surely, he would understand if hedidfind out.
Cruelly, she thought,perhaps he never has to know.
As soon as she was well enough, she would speak to him. She could frame it as a way out for him: avoid Lady Catherine’s advances, escape the ballrooms as much as possible, and nolonger have to keep putting himself on display on the marriage market, all the while keeping his mother and sister away with their fussing. She would be understanding of the things he did not want to do, and she would never pressure him.
Rebecca would be a good wife for him. A friendly wife. They could be truly happy together. Not in love, but happy, and that would be enough.
***
Another day passed in the same blur of restlessness into deep slumber, into a wakefulness she endured as the shivers continued. They were getting weaker as the days passed, but Rebecca’s body ached from being bedridden. She wanted to go for a walk in the gardens, but her mother wanted her to recover and to rest.
She was to attend the Balkans’ ball in four days’ time, no argument about it, and Rebecca was ordered to be back on her feet. She could afford no further delays.
Amelia, the eldest of her younger siblings, and Finley, the second youngest, both nudged their way into her room, their eyes wide and curious.
“Mama says you are sick,” Finley noted. Amelia was too busy looking at Rebecca’s vanity, but glanced over to see Finley clamber onto Rebecca’s bed.
“Finley, do give Rebecca some space. Mama has given her strict orders.” Her sister sighed, sinking into her vanity chair. “She is ever so stressed, sister. Please do get better so she stops harassing us. I fear she will send me out into society early should you be laid up in bed any longer.”
It was a jest, of course, but the weight on Rebecca’s shoulders only grew heavier. It was a reminder of what her family stood to lose if she did not perform her duty.
“I am certain I will be well soon enough,” she assured Amelia, who continued picking at her jewelry. “Are you excited for your debut next Season?”
Before Amelia could answer, Finley was pushing a ribbon-wrapped box at Rebecca. “Papa let me bring this up for you! He says it is from a man.”
Despite the days of exhaustion and stress she’d slept and thought through, Rebecca laughed at how bluntly her brother said it, knowing little of the games of society. “Is it now? Shall we open it together, then?”
“Yes!” Finley crossed his legs, mindless of the sheets, and peered closer as Rebecca tugged the ribbon. Even Amelia came over, then, interested.
Inside the box was a velvet cushion whereon a brooch nestled. It was gold and, well, in truth, Rebecca found it garish. It was a combination of striking gold with an orange jewel, too bright, and not at all a complimenting color on her. She mustered a smile anyway, but Amelia covered her mouth with a hand, hiding her laugh.
“Well,” Rebecca managed, “I am certain it will go nice with… something.” She winced, plucking the note that came with the brooch. She recognized the writing from her childhood, except now more refined. Lord Billy.
Dearest Rebecca,
It seems you have a penchant for reconnecting with childhood friends. How about you and I do the same? I do not think we ever really got a second dance. Allow me to offer this brooch as a gift of interest. Save me a dance at the Balkans’ ball.
Ever yours,
Lord Billy Harcroft.
“Who is it from?” Finley asked excitedly.
“I had a friend when I was, oh, a little older than you, and his name was Billy. It is from him.”
“Oh!” Her brother grinned. “Is he going to be your husband?”
Rebecca cringed.I hope not.His request for a dance sounded more like a demand than a question, and she didn’t like his implication that he had a right to a connection with her simply because they knew one another, as she did with Edward.
Not to mention the over familiarity of addressing her by name. At least Edward had ensured he was fine to call her without a title.
“Come now, Finley,” Amelia said, tugging their brother from the bed. “We must leave Rebecca to rest.” She looked at Rebecca, giving a small nod, as if she understood. Grateful, Rebecca kissed her brother’s forehead goodbye, and once they were gone she left it with the other gifts that had arrived for her over the last few days. None, notably, had come from Edward.
Again, she tried not to think about it.
Rebecca closed her eyes.
When she next opened them, it was to a knock on the door. The Bancrofts’ butler, Mr. Kingsley, opened the door at her call.
