Page 9 of The Reclusive Earl's Scandal
Her brows rose in surprise, and a small smile tugged at her lips. But then the look was gone, and it was replaced by that poised, overly composed expression of flattery. “You are too kind, Lord Thornshire. I heard rumours of your own absence, but, well, as you said, rumours are tedious things.”
Edward was tempted to ask her what she thought of them anyway. Did she notice how his hands shook? Did she notice that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else at the ball, or that he hadn’t actually eaten from the refreshment table because his stomach felt too queasy with nerves?
And if she truly wanted to match with him did Lady Catherine understand she would be signing herself up for a life with a husband who would refuse social events? For the moment he had nobody ordering him to do anything, the moment he escaped his mother’s authority and demand, he would do as he pleased to protect himself.
Lady Catherine looked at him as though she waited for him to confirm or deny the rumors.
Perhaps mine are true, he ought to say, to continue their conversation, to see what she made of it. But Edward only pulled back, aware he did so in the middle of their dance set, and went about mumbling an excuse of needing a moment.
He hurried away from her, claiming he needed air. He found a spot empty enough that he could breathe, and far enough from his mother who searched for the ballroom for her place with other matrons. Soon, he was accosted by more lords, other ladies waiting to be asked for a dance, asking questions, enquiring about his absence, sending their condolences regarding the late Earl of Thornshire.
It was all too much, and Edward fought through the attention, finally reaching the refreshment table where it promised at least a moment to sip wine and collect his thoughts. He picked up his glass and made to find another quiet corner, his panic still making his hands shake. In his hurry, he didn’t notice the lady standing behind him.
Edward collided with her, and despite his attempt to keep a handle on his glass, he watched in horror as the liquid spilled onto the lady’s beautiful gown.
Chapter Four
Rebecca had barely even reached for a glass to fill up at the punch bowl, planning to speak to the man already there, before he had whirled around, glass in hand.
She was too close, him too quick, and their collision sent the wine spilling on her dress, and Rebecca stared in shock. Infury, as she lifted her eyes to the man’s face, a scolding on her tongue—until she saw Edward Carmichael.
“Edward?” she asked, blinking, her eyes wide. “Edward Carmichael?”
The spill forgotten, and her anger quickly abated, Rebecca could only gape at him as he stared back at her in horror once he realized what he had done. And then recognition slowly broke through his panic.
“Rebecca!” he exclaimed. “Heavens, it is you, is it not? Rebecca Sterling? Although, I likely should call you Lady Rebecca.”
“And I ought to call you Lord Edward, yet here we are.”
“Lord Thornshire,” he corrected, his eyes dropping from hers before returning. Edward cleared his throat. “It is Lord Thornshire now. Well, as of almost two years ago.”
Rebecca stifled her gasp of embarrassment at forgetting the news that had flooded theton.The Earl of Thornshire had passed away during a dinner party. Thetonhad been abuzz about it, horrified and shocked.
“Of course,” Rebecca said softly. “I am terribly sorry, Edward. I likely should have visited. My father and I should have reached out to you.”
Edward quickly shook his head, swallowing. “There was never any need. I confess I ended up retreating to ThornshireHall anyway, so had you come knocking for me in London you would have only found my mother and sister.”
Rebecca laughed quietly, taking up a proper position next to him at the punch bowl, and then realization hit her. “Ah, here, you must let me pour you another drink.”
“There is no need,” he told her. She noticed how his eyes kept flitting around, his gaze never truly fixing in one place. His hands twitched on the now-empty glass, the other clenching at his side. Perhaps it was just the worry of ruining her dress, but he seemed awfully distressed.
The wine extended across the front of Rebecca’s gown, a most becoming shade of rose-gold, and she endeavoured to convince herself that the stain would merely serve as a conversation piece with the gentlemen she was to be introduced to. Perhaps it might serve as a topic of mild amusement, a harmless incident to spark a friendly exchange.
Rebecca began fixing Edward a drink regardless of his protests, as well as one for herself. “A toast, perhaps?” she asked. “To old childhood friends.”
Edward gave her a nervous laugh, again doing that thing where he barely looked at her, and nodded. He clicked his glass against hers, before drinking deeply. Rebecca gazed out at the ballroom.
“I can hardly believe it,” she said. “Of course, we would have been bound to see one another at some point, but… it has been a long time. That time of our lives seems a whole world away.”
Edward nodded. “Our fathers reminiscing about their schooling days over a glass of brandy in the study,” he laughed. “And us, bundled together in the nursery. I will wager that back then our mothers thought we would grow up closer.”
“It is a shame we did not,” she pointed out. “I do not really recall what happened.”
“I do not think anything did particularly,” he told her. “But I am glad to be seeing you now.” Edward turned a blue-eyed gaze on her, and Rebecca took the momentary eye contact he appeared brave enough to make to properly study him.
Dark lashes framed his eyes in a charming, handsome way, and although his smile was nervous it lingered in a way that had her stomach swooping a little. Waves of almost black hair curled to his shirt collar, contrasting the deep, forest-green cravat. He had grown, of course, since they were children. He had always been tall, but now he towered over her at least an easy half-foot, and although he wasn’t as broad as other lords tended to be, those with penchants for fencing and boxing, he appeared broad enough beneath his tailcoat.
Light freckles dotted beneath his eyes, and she wondered at him admitting his retreat into the countryside. Edward appeared to study her right back, and Rebecca turned her face away, wondering what he saw. Worrying over what he might actually see.
