Page 49 of The Reclusive Earl's Scandal
“Ah, you mean Mr. Mossley,” Lord Bradley said. “I have heard some stories about him: that he bought his seat, and seeks only greedy gains for himself, disguised as good deeds for others. But he is quite rotten.” Lord Bradley gave Edward a sharp, greeting nod. “Thornshire, it is good to see you. What are your thoughts on Mr. Mossley?”
Edward searched his recollection for a face to put with the name, but despite his status, he did not get very involved at all with politics.
He laughed, playing his part as it was demanded of him, and he chuckled and waved his wine glass as if he was the most relaxed man in the room.
“I agree with you both,” he said. “A greedy individual indeed. I do not want him anywhere near my properties, that is for certain.”
“Speaking of,” Willoughby said, turning to him. “I heard you acquired a new estate in Bath. Whatever inspired you?”
“Well, I spent too long away from London, and I did not really… embrace my status as the Earl of Thornshire. I was made aware that I could enhance my assets, so I did.” What Edward did not say was that he had bought the house for Rebecca—a way to escape the trapped life she might find with him. While he understood she might not want to live alone, he wanted to extend freedom to her to be outside of his isolated orbit. And if she still wished for romance throughout their platonic marriage, then… what he did not know would not hurt him.
It had pained him to put such measures in place, but he could not stand himself otherwise.
“He is trying to impress a lady,” Lord Bradley jested.
“Yes, but which one? You have been quite the favored suitor, Thornshire.”
“Do not sound so surprised,” Edward managed. His bravado was slipping, the effects of the wine helping to keep himself grounded in the act but not truly enough to keep it up for very long. “However, I did find myself unexpectedly garnering attention.” He grimaced, not having to feign being bothered by that.
“Lady Catherine seemed a favourite,” they noted. “Much to many other men’s disappointment.”
“Ah.” Edward forced a laugh. “The… the favour was not returned.”
“Whowasit returned to, then? I do not see you dancing tonight.” Willoughby’s eyes gleamed as if he could smell gossip in the air. Some men turned their attention off such things while others were half as bad as the ladies of theton.
Before he could answer, Lord Bradley laughed. “I believe he will not say, and for good reason, I suppose.”
Edward looked at him, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“Well, we have all seen you growing closer to the Bancrofts’ eldest. Lady Rebecca is quite the beauty, but it is a shame she has spoiled it for herself with that tutor’s son.”
Edward went cold. The accusation rang familiarly. The theater—the box next to his. He had not taken much stock in the gossiping, too focused on the arrival of the second half of the play, and then the panic that had pushed him to leave.
But he recalled something about a lady ruining herself, the devastation of her parents. Edward looked around the ball, suddenly questioning a great deal. Was everybody speaking about the rumor? Andhow?
His heart thudded painfully in his chest.
The only person, to his knowledge, who knew of her history with Harry Maudley was… him. She had told him thetruth. Edward struggled to breathe evenly. He had not started any rumors, but if he was the only person she had told would Rebecca think he had?
All at once, he saw people whispering. Heads turned towards Rebecca, who cringed in the corner, her eyes fixed on a group of ladies who hid smirks behind fans. Edward had no doubt she was hearing similar comments. Heavens—Heavens, he had to go to her. She backed away, stumbling, as she fought for a way out of the ballroom. Fury ignited in him. He knew the lengths it would take her to drop her charismatic act and need to flee, to break the perfecttonimage.
He whirled back to Lord Bradley. “Watch your tongue when you speak of the woman who will be my wife.”
His words were all but snarls, and then he took off running, chasing where Rebecca had disappeared in her flowing skirts of blue. But just as he did, he saw the Duchess of Bancroft, with the duke notably absent from her side, hurry after Rebecca as well. She beat Edward to it, but he still pursued Rebecca down the hallway.
“I told you this would happen,” the duchess hissed as Edward caught up to them. Rebecca was cornered by her mother in an alcove far away enough from the ballroom that no others would overhear unless they were too bold in their nosiness and ventured into the hallway. “I told you that you needed to quell everything with that boy!”
“There was nothing to quell,” Rebecca snapped. Her voice was thick, as if she was crying. Moments later, Rebecca’s soft sobs filled the hallway. “There was nothing to quell, Mother. I have told you countless times that once, yes, there was something there, and I had hoped for marriage one day, but I knew it could not be. When I accepted that, I turned my back on him.”
“And this is his retaliation. Surely you recognise that.”
“Of course, I do, but I do not believe Harry is the only one behind it all.”
Edward approached closer, interrupting whatever the duchess was about to accuse Rebecca of further. When Rebecca’s eyes found his, he saw only sorrow in them. A deep ache that she could not wrangle under control amidst her upset. Her face was pale, and her hands shook where she still held her fan which she gripped like a lifeline.
“Edward,” she whispered. The duchess made a noise of protest at the informality.
“I will marry you,” he told her. “As soon as I can, I will ensure that we are wed. I can obtain a special license from the bishop. It will be as immediate as we can make it. I will not have to endure this gossip.”
