Page 40 of The Marquess' Wicked Wager
A kestrel passed overhead, calling him from his stupor. He would have sworn he had misheard, if not for the crimson blush on her cheeks. “You mean that,” he whispered in half-question.
“I do, and I shouldn’t…which is precisely our quandary.” She breathed a laugh. “If anyone were to overhear, I would die a spinster.”
Carefully, in the same way one might approach a roe for observation, Albert stepped before her. “Miss Worthington, I would never allow that to happen.”
“You would be powerless to stop it. We cannot entertain this ruse for all time.” She dipped her head low. “I want to know why you did it.”
The dirt path crunched beneath the soles of his boots. It was the only sound beyond the silence seceding her question. “Why I did…what?”
“All of it.” Edna shrugged. “Why did you agree to this charade in the first place? Why have you entertained it so long? Why, when the opportunity presented itself for us to bring this trickery to term, did you race out into the country to secure our deceitful betrothal again?”
Why, why, why!Whywas she asking such questions now? Surely, they were not borne for their intimacy. “You know why, Edna.”
She shook her head, and Albert swore he saw the moment a fire sparked within her—in his Blue, who was always so tempered. “To protect me from your father. And beyond that?”
“Must there be anything beyond that?”
“For it to make sense, yes.”
“According to whom?” Something brewed within him too though he feared it was not fire but a storm. He could feel his skin stoning over with every question she asked.
“Well, according to me for one.” She let out a low, frustrated whine. “Do you act out of hatred for your father or…?” The question trailed off.
“What else is there but hatred?” The world turned to black as he ran a hand over his face. With a scoff, he added, “Did you agree to my walk, so you could corner me with your questions? Is that it?”
“I agreed to your walk, so I could thank you for all you have done. For that, I need to knowwhoI am thanking, Albert, and for what, so that we might part ways with some semblance of clarity between us.” Her eyes bore into him. “You can accept me in your bed but not into your heart. The whole thing is madness.”
“For a woman, perhaps.” He regretted the words as soon as he said them. They fell like lead between the two of them. The sun clouded over. “Would it not be simpler for you to tell me which answers you’re seeking, that I might give them to you?”
“No, because they wouldn’t be true.”
“True?” Albert echoed in mock horror. “What do we care about the truth? You said it yourself; this whole thing is deceit. The truth doesn’t matter!”
There was a long, pregnant silence between them, then. Albert wanted nothing more than to squash it, even if it meant inviting more blasted questions from Edna. He would have givenanythingfor the sound of her voice in that great still, to drown out the deafening heartbeat in his ears...but she didn’t speak. She didn’t do or say anything beyond clenching and unclenching her gloved hands. Not until, with great resolve, she glanced up at him again.
“I will ask you only this, and then, I will walk back to the inn—if I were any different, if I were a completely separate lady from the one I am, would you have wrought all you did? Would you have orchestrated this same plan? Would you…have made it feel so real?”
For the briefest moment, Albert felt himself float. Something in her sad little stare made his spirit leap from his body. It almost felt like living weightlessly. And then he was back, and she was still waiting for an answer.
“I don’t know.” It was the only thing he could answer that was truthful. “My father possesses me in more ways than I understand.”
Edna smiled mirthlessly, pityingly. “I see.” Her slipper ground against the path as she turned to leave.
“You will not understand, I know,” he reached out to her then pulled his hand back in, “because your heart is good, and mine is made of stone.” The words spilled out of him with no chance of bridle. They made him feel weak, sick, like a purging. “I see it in you, and it makes me want to try…but there is no goodness in my blood, Edna. I feel terrible for using you as I did, but I’mworsethan that still—because I resented you for leaving me as you did.”
That certainly got her attention. It only halted her long enough for her to whisper, “That wasn’t the reason for my leaving,” before she tried to turn again.
This time, Albert did not hold back his roguishness. He looped his hand around her wrist. “Edna,” he breathed. “Don’t! Speak to me—”
“I am not yours to order about.” She yanked on her wrist. “You have made that clear enough.” The more she struggled, the more he held onto her, and the more he fanned the flames of her anger. “You must let me go, Albert! It is over! There is nothing more to be done.”
He couldn’t hear her protestations over the whirring in his mind. “What did you mean,it wasn’t your reason for leaving? Edna, why?”
With a shockingly strong tug of her arm, she pulled herself free...before cascading back and landing on her bottom with a cry. Albert leaned down to pick her up, but she batted him away, scuttling back as though he were the devil himself. The hem of her blue morning gown was caked with dirt. She rubbed the hair from her face, smearing muck on her forehead. When she noticed the grime on her hands…she began to cry.
Albert felt the rock in his chest crack in two. “Edna. No…no, don’t cry. Come now,” he stammered, falling to a crouch before her.
She whimpered, slow, painful sobs pitching from her mouth. Her eyes were a crystalline blue when she dared to look back at him. “I don’t need you…” she mewled, but it was hardly convincing. “I shouldn’t need you.”
