Page 34 of The Reclusive Earl's Scandal
Edward had thought of that all the way home.
The renewal of their friendship and connection in each other’s lives this Season, the way he hoped to keep in touch with her, no matter what.
He couldn’t stop thinking of the fear paling her face when he’d pulled her from the river. How, for just a brief moment, she had clutched him, fingers wrapping around his forearms. And then how quickly they’d had to pull away—but for that second, Edward’s world had stilled.
However, it had been days, and Edward had been forced to attend the Farrens’ ball, and had hated every minute of it. He’d not stopped looking for Rebecca.
“Do not crowd her,” his mother reminded as they waited to be let into Thornshire House. “And do emphasize how quickly you saved her.”
Edward sent her a scathing look that she pretended not to notice, not when the Duchess of Bancroft waved them inside excitedly.
“Lord Thornshire.” Her voice was bright, her smile a touch too wide. He grimaced, long knowing the methods of matronswho had their eye on a particular suitor for their daughter. But surely the duchess did not see that in him. “Lady Thornshire. How kind of you to call upon Lady Rebecca.”
“Your Grace.” Edward inclined his head.
“Lord Thornshire could simply not stop pestering anybody around him to know how Lady Rebecca’s recovery was going,” his mother laughed, and he looked at her, appalled.
“Mother,” he exclaimed.
“I speak only the truth.” She gave him a smug look before they were led upstairs.
“Do excuse your mother,” the duchess urged him as they reached the landing that Rebecca’s room was on. He found himself recalling it from his younger years, and he swallowed. A flutter of nerves suddenly pitched in his stomach. “She wishes for you to receive the rightful praise you deserve. You saved my daughter, Lord Thornshire. We are forever indebted to you. I believe His Grace visited you to discuss an adequate gesture.”
Edward paused an inch away from the closed door of Rebecca’s chamber. “He did not, but I do not require any gratitude. My thoughts were only on Re—Lady Rebecca.” The silence around him said that his slip-up had not gone unnoticed. The mothers next to him shared a glance. In his mind, he was back in the Farrens’ ballroom, Lady Catherine’s grip so hard it was painful, her nails digging in even through the layers of his clothing.
She had changed recently. The faux pleasantries became less and less, and her words got sharper and sharper, almost scolding. She had criticized his dancing, glared at him when he danced with other ladies he was required to dance with to save face, but whenever he tried to duck away from her, she was always there, steering him right back into her orbit.
Lady Catherine had not witnessed the way he’d stumbled to the terrace during one of his escapes from her company,staggering almost to his knees. He’d gripped the railing, gasping for air, his anxiety becoming a weight on his chest he’d heaved around. She was too much,too much, and he couldn’t, or even better he didn’t want to keep up.
A clearing of a throat snapped him back to the hallway in Bancroft Manor.
“You may see her, and we will remain to the far side of the room,” the duchess told him, but she looked ever so happy. The door opened, and there was Rebecca, tucked into bed sheets. She was nowhere near as white as she had been in the river. There was now color in her cheeks, but he could see the dark circles the week of illness had left on her.
For a moment, her gaze turned to him, and his didn’t stray from her, either.
His breath caught, and then he mentally chided himself for being so foolish. He blamed the skip of his heartbeat on the fact that the ball had been endless without her, and he had hid from society for so long that the briefest touch from a lady had his thoughts far too occupied.
He moved forward, aware of the women who entered the room behind him.
“Hello, Lady Rebecca,” he said, and it felt as though he could finally exhale after holding his breath for so long. Approaching the bed, Edward tried to ignore the feeling in his chest. The feeling that something was happening—something overwhelming and far too big for words and for the situation they were in. Whatever it was he had to tamper it down.
“Lord Thornshire,” she greeted, her smile already in place. It was weaker than he was used to, but there nonetheless. “You have visited me at last.”
“You waited for me?” he jested, wondering at the way Rebecca settled the nerves in his stomach, replacing the fluttering of them with something akin to butterflies instead.
“Nonsense,” she answered quickly. “I merely needed a friend.”
“I am certain you have plenty.” His brow lifted at her, but she looked away, something dark crossing her face. “Yes?”
“Certainly,” she answered, but it was too quick to be true, he thought. “They are all here. In fact, I should relocate downstairs for more room. There aresomany of them.” She gave a small, soft laugh, but despite her jest her eyes were sad.
Edward gave her an uncertain smile, unsure of how to respond. His eyes were drawn to the bundle of gifts on her bedside. He gave another sweeping look around her room, frowning.
“What is it?” Rebecca asked.
“Nothing,” he said, also too quickly to be the truth. But then he couldn’t help himself. “I… Well, forgive my boldness, but you have plenty of gifts from your suitors, but you have not displayed the flowers I sent for you. And the letter with it was rather touching, I thought.” He crooked a grin at her, masking his hurt. “I suppose this is the suitors-only table of gifts, and friendly offerings go elsewhere?”
But Rebecca’s confusion that morphed into something he couldn’t decipher, disappointment perhaps, was unexpected.
