Page 62 of The Duke's Unclaimed Bride
“You have such belief in me,” Edith mumbled.
“Of course I do.” Ava smiled.
“Look!” Tilly cried out, holding up Pudding.
Edith laughed, seeing that the poor cat now had a bow tied around its neck. “Oh, poor Pudding!”
“I think he looks quite fetching,” Ava snorted. “And truly, I’m not sure he minds.”
As if to demonstrate this, Pudding started purring loudly in Tilly’s arms, who cuddled the cat close and giggled with delight.
Edith smiled, taking a steadying breath, before finally relaxing in her chair.
A week passed, and the Fairfax ball was upon them.
Laurence had been doing his best to avoid Edith, and he was becoming quite skilled at it. Unfortunately, the longer he was away from her, the more his mood soured.
He had begun snapping at servants more than necessary. Work had once again become his refuge, and he spent hours working on reports. If he found that he still had time in the day, he would redo the reports he’d already prepared.
He stood at the foot of the stairs, adjusting his cravat. The sooner the night was over, the better. He did not want to be around the ton when he was still feeling shame from the incident with Edith. They had shared, at most, two sentences since that fateful night. Every time they came close, she would avert her gaze.
The sound of someone walking down the stairs shook him out of his reverie.
“There you—” He froze.
Edith looked breathtaking as she descended the staircase. Her blonde hair had been twisted up off her shoulders, exposing the slender column of her neck. Her dress was a soft spring green, the fabric draping over her body and accentuating her curves. The overlay was the same one from their wedding.
In the townhouse’s soft candlelight, she looked ethereal, soft, and elegant. He felt his mouth go dry and suppressed the urge to take her into his bedroom.
Barely.
“Apologies for making you wait,” she said as she stopped next to him.
She refused to meet his gaze, and although he longed for her to look at him, he understood why she didn’t.
“It is fine.” He took her arm and led her out to the carriage. “You look…”
Words failed him. He had never seen a more beautiful woman.
“Presentable,” he finished.
He immediately regretted it when she only nodded in response.
Presentable. What an idiotic choice of words.
The air during the carriage ride was stiff with silence as they rolled through the countryside. Edith kept her gaze fixed on the window and her back rigid. Laurence, however, couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Each breath she took made her chest rise and fall. Each blink fluttered her eyelashes over her slightly pink cheeks. Each movement made her dress move and cling to her delicately.
Laurence rubbed his hands over his face, steeped in self-loathing.
Presentable. I might as well have told her she looked tolerable. Or adequate. I should just throw myself from the carriage now and save myself the agony of the rest of the evening.
How would he ever survive the night?
CHAPTER 12
“Your Graces, it’s so wonderful to see you both,” James said as he approached the pair.
