Page 23 of The Reclusive Earl's Scandal
“The two of us shall stay here,” his mother said. “Providing that is fine with you, Your Grace.”
“Of course. I had some tea prepared ahead of your arrival. We will take it in the parlour.”
With one last warning look at Edward, likely a silent reminder to seize a chance to speak with Rebecca privately, his mother departed with the duchess. Edward waited until Rebecca finally arrived. He had not beheld her so disconcerted, her usual assured stance so unexpectedly unsettled, and he didn’t know what else to do except smile tightly and gesture towards the main doors of the house.
“Shall we?”
Chapter Eight
Laketide Park was near Bancroft Manor, only a short walk away, so by the time they made it there Rebecca didn’t yet feel any calmer.
She had been putting off a conversation with Harry about breaking off their… whatever it was that they had with one another, because her days had been so filled with the Season’s social events. She had scarcely had time, and whenever he had joined his mother, she had either not been present or kept out of his way purposefully.
Her wrist ached from where he’d pinned her to her father’s drawing room bar, and the wood had painfully dug into her back. Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling, even when she clenched them together, which made Edward glance down at the motion.
There were questions in his expression, but he didn’t voice them, and Rebecca didn’t yet offer up any information. Instead, she strolled next to him, trying not to think of the roaring anger in Harry’s face. She knew, no matter how much she liked him, she could not be with him. She needed money and security, and he provided none of that. As of late he had not provided even conversation with her, prior to the Season beginning.
The idea had lingered in Rebecca’s mind, her heart aching at the thought of not being able to choose whomever she wanted for a husband, but they had never truly vocalized anything. Deep down, Rebecca knew she never would have been able to do as she desired to, but Harry hadn’t known that, and she should have made sure he did.
His soft face had turned so hard so quickly.
“This is nice,” Rebecca commented. Her eyes watched the hem of her pale pink dress brush against the pathway theymeandered down. To their left stretched a lake, and to the right were benches lined infrequently, some shadowed by low-hanging, wide tree canopies. “After the noise of the ballroom, and then every voice at home, the simplicity of silence is nice.”
“I agree,” he murmured, something harder slipping into his voice, enough that Rebecca peered up at him. He elaborated quickly. “Again, between the ballrooms, and my mother’s and sister’s incessant scolding or commentary on my life…” He shook his head sharply, his dark, longer hair brushing almost to his shoulders. Rebecca’s eyes traced along the curve of his jaw as it tensed. “I find the significance in the ability to walk in silence with somebody.”
The backs of their hands brushed, and Rebecca looked down, but Edward didn’t. She moved her hand away quickly.He is your friend from childhood. Do not make this awkward.
So, she finally addressed the reason they had ventured out at all. “You have not asked about him.”
“About your tutor’s son?” Rebecca nodded, and Edward gave a small shrug. “I do not see it as any of my business. I walked in on a private moment, only to find out that he had hurt you.”
“Barely,” Rebecca was quick to answer before she snapped her mouth closed.
Edward’s steps paused. “You do not have to defend him.”
“I do not have to make him appear as a villain, either,” she reasoned. “Truth be told, although there truly was no official arrangement between the two of us, we were fond of one another. To him, I have betrayed him. Perhaps in my own eyes I have as well. Still, I was terrified of him in that moment. He was always quiet, reading in the corner while his mother or father taught. Both of them tutored, you see. But Harry… he was always quick to make me smile with a silly face he made behind any of his parents’ backs. It was nothing but childish flirtation that weboth knew couldn’t extend into something proper but I admit I entertained the idea once.”
“I do not like what he implied regarding the attention you have been receiving.” Edward’s voice was low, and she wondered if that was due to how angry he was at the implication, or to maintain her dignity should anyone overhear them. Laketide Park was relatively empty, but she was touched at his thoughtfulness.
“Me neither.” Her words came out tightly. Her eyes were on the stretch of path veering down, to the other end of the park where a gate awaited to see them out. “Do you… do you think he could ruin my marriage prospects?”
“It sounds terrible to say, but if he does, I do not think many would believe him in fear of going against a duke and his family.” Edward grimaced. “If he had his heart broken then he could have handled it without malice.” He glanced at her. “Nobody will hear of this from me, at least, Rebecca.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. She eyed him, then, long enough that he blushed and looked away. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
Edward strolled along, his movements almost stiff, as if he was hyper aware of his body, of every limb and joint, and how it moved. “Because I quite like you,” he said, surprising her. “And because I recall you once pushing Lord Billy into a puddle so hard he skidded and fell to his knees, and you told him not to be cruel to me again.”
“He did not listen,” she pointed out. “We were children, then; his behaviour may have been more excusable.”
“I am certain I can handle him now,” Edward told her, but the crease between his brows said differently. “One would have thought he had grown up enough by now.”
Rebecca scoffed. “Indeed. But, if he does persist with the behaviour from the other night, I shall find a bigger puddle for him, and his ego might just fit alongside it.”
At that, she was rewarded with a snort of laughter from Edward, once again catching her off guard.
“And for what it is worth,” she continued, “I quite like you, too.”
“You must have a way of attracting men who like to read,” he pointed out, only to sharply pause and look at her, alarmed. “Not that—not that I am comparing myself to Harry. Not at all, nor suggesting you are fond of me as you were, or are, of him. Or… or that I would be as terrible...”
