Page 21 of The Reclusive Earl's Scandal
However for a very brief moment, he thought of the lady he hadn’t seen in ten years with eyes the color of a storm cloud reaching its peak before it lashed out rain. Gray and wise, pretty and sharp as a whip. He thought of them escaping the ballroom’s bustle for a minute twice now, and he thought of her teasing offer, tossed over her shoulder.
You may always dance with me, you know, just in case you ever find yourself needing a break from the incessant matchmaking and ladies stepping on your toes.
As much as he had blushed at her jesting in the moment, the thought of returning to a ballroom knotted his stomach. His mother and sister would watch him, analyze everything he did,every woman he danced with. The restriction of the balls and the expectation, how restricted he felt, how he had chosen not to attend tonight’s ball but felt so much shame and guilt for it—it all bundled deep in his gut until his breathing was jagged again.
This time,in, out, in, outdidn’t help him, and Edward stumbled to his desk, gripping the edge in an attempt to ground himself. He simply wanted to read and to manage his estates from afar. Many men did it, even if they turned old and gray without a companion. Edward would not mind. His sister could still find a match, and they would remain provided for. What need did he have for the chaos and complications of a wife and child?
If it were to happen naturally, if love could somehow wind its way through those ballrooms, and tap my shoulder, nudging me in the accidental direction of a beautiful woman, then I would be fine, I think.Edward frowned at his thoughts. His mother and Elena would disapprove greatly, but the setup of the marriage market, the forced conversations and tiresome dances…
It was truly wearing him down.
At least tonight he didn’t have it in him to attend another ball.
Trying to work through the guilt, for that could be easier than anxiety, Edward returned to his correspondence. Throughout the remainder of the day, Elena regarded him with a frosty demeanour, and Edward wondered if he was merely protecting himself or if he really was selfish.
***
A couple more days passed. Edward challenged himself the day after Lord and Lady Ashfordly’s ball by walking past the Greenacre. If he at least bypassed one place he feared then he could half prepare himself for another potential meeting.
Ignoring the tremble in his limbs, the tightness of his chest, and that ever-terrible knot in his stomach, Edward moved on, keeping his head down and hoping nobody called out to him.
Thornshire House became busier as his mother arranged for Elena’s social integration, inviting over other debutantes, ladies that tried to catch a glimpse of Edward where he hid out in the library and tried not to listen to their questions of his own marital prospects. Instead, he read, and he pretended like he could simply live out the rest of the Season this way: present, but only at a distance.
He was not afforded that luxury for very long because on the fourth day of his social avoidance, his mother stormed into the library and handed him a cream-colored card that bore a note in fine, elegant script.
Before Edward could read it, his mother spoke. “I have been lenient with you out of empathy when I saw you were not adjusting as well as I thought you should, but I cannot stand back further. I let you bypass the invitation to Lady Mary Avery’s gathering, and you outright threw Lady Melissa’s invitation into the fireplace, but I cannot let you ignore this one, Edward.
“Her Grace, the Duchess of Bancroft has accepted our request to call upon Lady Rebecca. You know her from childhood, I believe?”
Edward’s teeth ground together. “I do,” he replied and he could not believe his mother had requested such a thing without his knowledge.
“Good. Then she might understand your…” She hesitated. “Ways. Now, you must dress well and visit her before midday. You have been in Bancroft Manor before, so I do not see why it will be a problem. Lady Rebecca would be a fine match. Word has it that she has received many visitors, so if you do not act now then you will undoubtedly miss your chance. We have wealth and power, as do they, so I can see the potential here.”
She gave him a hard, stern look, before leaving him with the invitation.
It was true he had avoided all other requests, but this one… this one struck him. He didn’t want Rebecca involved in the scheming and full of strategy ploys, and wished only to have her genuine company amidst the lunacy of the matchmaking, but he hesitated as his finger traced over her name on the card.
If anything, it would be a chance to speak with her without too many eyes on them. Perhaps she wished to laugh once more about her own matchmaking.
Despite the discomfort in his stomach, the fluttering of anxiety that weighed down every step, Edward proceeded to get prepared for the visit.
***
“Lady Rebecca is awaiting you in the drawing room,” The Duchess of Bancroft told Edward, already linking her arm through his mother’s to draw her into the parlor to gossip about the match they thought they were making.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Edward gave her a quick nod before striding down the familiar halls. He had not been there since he was four and ten, the heir to the Thornshire fortune, and on the cusp of anxiety he had only really just started to scratch the surface of. His father had walked these halls over and over, finding comfort in his friendship with the duke. Meanwhile, Edward and Rebecca had stolen throughout the various rooms, finding new items to peer at and investigate.
Edward recalled poring over the duke’s collection of essay reports on the part of the skies still being discovered. He wondered how many more essays had been added to that collection.
Voices came from further down the hallway, giggles spilling from an open doorway. Edward heard a sharp, “Master Finley,” in a strict, female voice.
“It was Oliver’s fault, Mrs Maudley!” The voice that responded to the accusation arose in a cry of “was not!” and Edward smiled, vaguely recalling Rebecca’s siblings. He wasn’t sure how old any of them would be now, but from the bickering, he guessed still quite young as blame was passed back and forth.
He paused, smiling, remembering those days with Elena.
But his attention was tugged away by a low, hissing voice coming from the drawing room up ahead, and a mutter of protest. Edward frowned.
