Page 80 of The Sea Siren of Broadwater Bottom
Sniggers filled the room. Edward chanced a glance around him. To be sure, everyone was laughing, and some people were openly jeering. But most of those assembled seemed to be laughing in a friendly way.
He made an effort not to look at them, to focus instead on Elissa. She was glowing. There was no other word for it. She was looking at him as if he were some sort of demigod.
“Is that truly how you see me?” she whispered.
“It is,” he said softly.
She squeezed his fingers.
Dr. Landon unfolded the folded piece of paper bearing the author’s name and confirmed, “It is indeed by Lord Fauconbridge.”
Edward cleared his throat. “Miss St. Cyr has recently done me the very great honor of agreeing to be my wife.”
Good-natured murmurs filled the room. Amid the sea of amiable faces that surrounded them, Edward picked out one scowl. He realized it was William Ricketts, Elissa’s old schoolroom tormentor.
In an instant, Edward understood that Ricketts’ taunts had not been borne of hatred. That he had been one of those young fools who would say anything to get the girl he fancied to look at him and didn’t care if, in doing so, he made her cry.
Meeting Edward’s eye, Ricketts’ glower deepened. “It was a bit maudlin for my taste,” he said in a voice loud enough to carry.
“Ah,” Dr. Landon said from the pulpit, “but so was the original. Lord Fauconbridge matched the spirit of the work remarkably well. The poem is sentimental, to be sure, but that is the reason it is so beloved.” He gave Ricketts a pointed look. “It takes courage to write something so raw, and I daresay that is the reason the esteemed judges selected Lord Fauconbridge’s poem to be read aloud, and not yours.”
Dr. Landon began descending the steps, marking the conclusion of the ceremony, and those assembled began filing out of the church.
CHAPTER29
Outside, the participants milled about the green of Radcliffe Square. Edward smiled as he watched Cassandra fight her way through the swarm of well-wishers so she could catch her sister in a hug. “I knew you could do it! I’m so proud of you.” Cassandra dabbed beneath her eyes with a handkerchief. “How I wish Mother and Father had been there to see it. I thought they were going to come up for the ceremony.”
“I did too,” Elissa said. “But it doesn’t matter.”
Everyone wanted to meet Elissa, so Edward spent the next half-hour introducing her to his former school friends and professors. When the crowd finally started to thin, Harrington strolled up.
Considering he had just lost a fifteen-thousand-pound wager and was about to face the wrath of their father, his brother looked strangely jovial.
“Congratulations, Miss St. Cyr,” he said, bowing over her hand. “I very much look forward to having you as my sister.”
“Thank you,” Elissa said. “The feeling is entirely mutual.”
“I’m sorry, brother,” Edward said. “I tried. There was just no besting Elissa today.”
Harrington laughed. “There’s no need to apologize. It happens that you did precisely what I needed you to do.”
Edward cocked his head. “But… I lost.”
Harrington’s eyes gleamed. “Happily for me, I did not wager that you would win. I wagered that your poem would be read aloud in University Church by the vice-chancellor of Oxford University on the first of April. Which it was.” He gave a triumphant laugh as he reached into his breast pocket. “Avery was a tremendous sport about the whole thing. He’s already handed over the bank draft. See?”
“You don’t mean—” Edward peered at the document in Harrington’s hand, which was indeed a bank draft for fifteen thousand pounds.
“This has turned out better than I could’ve imagined,” Harrington crowed. “I spent all morning worrying that I was going to be thrown in debtor’s prison. Instead, I’ve gained a fortune!”
Edward scowled. “You worried all morning? I’ve been panicking for the last month. Besides which, I did all the work. I think we should donate that money to Anne’s charity.”
“Not a chance. I already have plans for it.”
He was interrupted by a feminine voice. “Do you, now?” Edward glanced over his shoulder and saw an elegant woman in a wide-brimmed hat.
She lifted her head and was revealed to be their mother.
“Am I to understand,” Lady Cheltenham asked, joining their circle, “that you wagered fifteen thousand pounds on the outcome of the contest?” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “You’re lucky your father isn’t here.”
