Page 45 of The Marquess' Wicked Wager
Albert could see his father coming apart at the seams. His appearance had done more than forestall whatever cruelty he sought to inflict on Edna—it had broken his father. A part of him pitied the man, imagining what it might be like for a father to be thwarted by a son. But a greater part, a more rational part, would not succumb to his ties to the villain, however thick they were with blood.
Albert turned to Edna, and with a nod, he gestured for them to run.
His father was quicker, taking a step before them and crying, “No!” He was wild with anger. “You will not take her from me. That is not how this game is played—and we play forlove.”
Albert shook his head. He could barely make sense of the man’s rambling if there was any sense to be found. His father’s eyes told a different story. “You’re mad…completely and utterly mad. What you had wasn’t love—it’sdomination! It’s destruction.” Like a mirror to his father, Albert leaned forward, placing an arm before Edna to shield her. “You smothered mother’s spirit. You smothered Eugenie’s too. And you would smother all the good in Edna to break open that stone heart of yours.”
“You know nothing of what your mother did to me.”
“But I know what you did to her. I know what it is to be trapped in your vice, father. No more!” Seizing Edna by the hand, Albert spun on his heel and turned toward the door. All he heard as they exited the shop, was the vicious wailing of his father.
Ignoring the footman, not even knowing where to begin with Edna, he lifted her up by the waist and settled her atop Rosehip. She complied with nary a word, but her face was twisted in equal part confusion and dread. Janine trailed out of the modiste’s as they rode off, hurrying into her coach alone.
* * *
“Give me your hands…Edna.”
They sat on the ground indecorously by the Serpentine. It was a hidden little nest, tucked far enough out of sight that not a soul should come to bother them. The leaves of a willow dangled overhead, the timid light of the late-day sun falling in small patches through the tree’s canopy. It felt quite another world from the darkness of his father’s crypt—made all the brighter, thebetter,for Edna’s presence.
She had said nothing as they had ridden through London. She had said even less as he commanded Rosehip to the park. His fingers had burned for her touch as he had helped her on and off his mare, but she had not even the will to tell him tostop. He felt quite the brigand himself, having brought her here. But he needed a moment, just one, for as long as she would grant him to pray for her forgiveness.
Edna reached her gloved hands tentatively over. Albert took them, rubbing his thumb and forefinger over every gloved joint, knuckle, over her palm and wrist.
“He did not touch me.” Her voice was but a rasped whisper. “If that is what concerns you so.”
Albert felt himself retreat. He settled her hand back into her lap, and he scuttled away. They sat on the bank in quiet company for a while until he dared to ask her, “Whatdidhe do?”
Edna shrugged. A small ringlet of chestnut hair had fallen loose at the nape of her neck. He wished for nothing more than to tuck it beneath her bonnet—and the tenderness of his desire chilled his blood. “He said…yourfathersaidthat he has secured some sort of special license for him and I to be wed. That he is still intent on me becoming his wife.”
“He doesn’t have nearly as much power as he thinks.”
Edna let out a short, dour laugh. “Is that not so? He seems quite powerful to me to have twisted my father round his finger—an archbishop too.” She dipped her head. “There will be no end to this for as long as I am not his wife.”
“You mustn’t…” Albert trailed off, not quite knowing what he could say to comfort her. If the truth had to be said, he was as blinded by his anger as she was by her distress. He swallowed it down. “It will do neither of us any good for you to think like that.”
“Neither of us.” She laced her fingers through the grass. “There is nothingwecan do. We tried, and I say, we’ve made more of a mess of things than before. It was one thing to marry a monster, another entirely to be shunned by society for marrying the father of my once-betrothed. Now, I am alone.”
“Edna.” His voice came out like a prayer, and he hated himself for it. The last thing she needed was the burden of his begging. “You are not alone. For as long as I live, you will not be alone.”
“So that you might continue this sordid dance with your father?” She shook her head, and her blue eyes were wet with tears. It was not sadness, he knew, but frustration. “I refuse to be a pawn in your games any more than I am in his.”
Albert sighed low. She was right—of course, she was right. He glanced over at her from the corner of his eye, wondering if the answer lay in her countenance: the sweet slope of her nose, the roundness of her eyes, the golden lashes that traveled so slowly, so dutifully, back and forth… and then he looked down to her chest, for that was where lay her heart. And it struck him, like a flash of lightning. The truth.
HelovedEdna, for as much as he knew what love was. Not as some leverage in his familial battle of wits. Not as an object of beauty. As her. Aspreciselyher.
“Edna.” She turned to look at him.
“At the inn, you asked whether I would have entertained all we have with any other woman.” His muscles seized for what he knew he must confess. There was a block, a terrible, insurmountable block before him, built by his father. To penetrate it would mean opening himself up to a world of pain, he knew, a world that was not so guarded by his distance. But to stay on his side of the wall...well, it would make for a lonely existence indeed. It would make for an existence without Edna.
“What of it?” Her gaze dropped to his mouth.
His nose stung from the tears that were building behind his eyes. “The answer is no. The answer, in fact, is that I rather think you’re unlike any woman I have ever met. You are not a pawn to me, Edna. You are…” He paused. “Everything.”
Her body rocked in surprise. She cradled herself and looked away, her fingers digging into the soft, blue fabric of her coat. “You don’t mean that.”
Albert needed to see her. He grabbed her face with both his hands and almost threw himself into the lake for the tears that streamed down her cheeks. He had done this in total ignorance.No more. “I mean it and so much more, Blue.”
She shook her head in his hands. “If not for your father—”
