Page 33 of The Reclusive Earl's Scandal
“Lady Mary Avery is here for you, Lady Rebecca,” he told her.
Rebecca hated that she was surprised. Recently, her friendships had felt… strange, to say the least. Catherine felt like a minefield she didn’t know how to navigate anymore, marred by her jealousy and Rebecca still suspected she had something to do with Harry finding out about her ballroom antics. It never should have been a secret, and Rebecca hated that it had become something to hide, but she never knew how to explain it without it sounding terrible against her.
Mr. Kingsley ducked out of her chamber, allowing Mary entry into her room. The door closed behind her friend, who held up fresh flowers. Her face was pale, pinched in concern.
“Oh, Rebecca,” she murmured, coming to her bedside. She placed her hand over Rebecca’s. “Heavens, you look terrible.”
“Thank you,” Rebecca laughed weakly. “The physician visited yesterday and said my recovery is going well and as expected. So, if I look terrible now, Goodness knows what I looked like when I emerged from the river.”
Mary gave her a tight smile, but her gaze couldn’t settle on Rebecca for very long.
“What is it?” Rebecca asked. “I can see that something is on your mind, Mary. I feel like… I feel like something has been amiss for a while, and I do not know what is happening.”
Her friend sighed, setting down the flowers on Rebecca’s nightstand. She lingered on the bundle of gifts, the notes in front of them that her mother had arranged pointedly, before turning her gaze back to Rebecca. “Nothing from Lord Thornshire?”
“Why would there be? He is not one of my suitors.”
“Indeed,” Mary said. “But nevertheless, I wish to tell you that Catherine and Lord Thornshire were rather close at the Farrens’ ball earlier this week.” Rebecca fought not to freeze up. That was the ball her mother had asked her to dance with Lord Thornshire at. “Veryclose, in fact. Ever since the river incident, Catherine has found reasons to find where Lady Elena and Lord Thornshire might be. She says the earl is going out into society more and more this last week, and she believes it is because he is trying to see more of her.”
“Oh.” Rebecca wondered why she felt such disappointment. As she had said, he really wasn’t one of her suitors. “Well, that is good for them.”
“He asked her to dance twice,” Mary continued. “Catherine has rescinded all interest in other men. I have tried to adviseher against it, for we have all heard the rumors of the Earl of Thornshire and how he tends to keep to his own four walls. She would hate to fall in line with such a life. But she is insistent that a proposal is imminent.”
Rebecca’s heart fell, and she hoped it did not show on her face.It is only because this will thwart my own attempts, and my mother has all but cast a threat towards me. But if it was just a convenient plan then why did she tick over every interaction they had shared?
Edward had expressed little interest in Catherine. He found her insincere and grating, he’d said so himself. Could a proposal be getting pushed from his family?
“Rebecca.” Her friend’s soft, coaxing voice brought her out of her mind. “Catherine…” She stopped speaking, as if mulling over her words. “She is very jealous. She told me that she wishes she had been the one to fall into the river. We… we all saw how he jumped in after you without hesitation, and how closely he held you when you surfaced.”
Rebecca’s cheeks burned at the recollection of his arm around her waist. How intimate it must have been to witness such a thing. She turned her face away from her friend.
“It was nothing,” she said quickly. “He was the only man there, and I could not swim. He was being noble.”
“Acts out of nobility alone does not look at you the way he did,” Mary whispered.
Rebecca finally looked back at Mary, who was regarding the bundle of gifts once more.
“What is it?” Rebecca asked, looking for a topic change. She couldn’t think too hard about how Edward might look at her or at what anything meant anymore.
“It is just that…” Mary shook her head. “No, I shall tell you. I passed Lord Thornshire en route to your house the day after you fell ill, armed with a letter and flowers. He looked ever soconcerned. I had assumed the flowers were for you, but I did not see them.”
“Lord Thornshire has not visited, nor presented a gift,” Rebecca told her, frowning. “Could it have been for Catherine?”
“Oh, I believe she would have shouted about it from the rooftops if so. She has not received so much of a morning visit from him. I do not truly know why she is expecting a proposal, but perhaps the earl just prefers the comfort of closeness at a ball. I do not pretend to know their business, but…” She looked again at the collection of gifts before standing. “I must leave you to rest. Your mother warned me to spend no more than ten minutes with you, and she is right. You must sleep and re-energize yourself for the upcoming Balkans’ ball. I hear Lord Mason is eager to dance with you again.”
Mary gave her a smile but it was a touch too hesitant, as if she didn’t know how to speak to Rebecca about suitors. Rebecca only feigned an enthusiastic nod, but her friend was gone quickly, and she sighed into the emptiness of the room.
Once, the three of them had giggled and discussed suitors, overlapping in a civil way and drawing short straws in jest for who would dance first with a particular suitor. Now, Rebecca felt as though cracks had appeared in their dynamic, and she did not know how to fix them.
Not when Catherine did not truly love Edward, and neither did Rebecca, but at least he was friends with Rebecca. She would be the better option, but the thought of competing with her friend left a sour taste on her tongue.
Instead of thinking about it, she closed her eyes, and willed herself to fall asleep.
Chapter Eleven
Edward had been going stir crazy ever since Rebecca had been taken away from the embankment alongside the river. He had given himself a day to wait for word to come from her, hoping she may have been able to extend correspondence, but when he’d heard nothing, he’d bought her flowers.
He recalled the vase they had once knocked over in their childhood. They had been pink; he remembered that. So he had bought her cherry blossoms in a bouquet, and while he wasn’t well-versed in the language of flowers, the florist had advised him that such flowers could meanrenewal.
