Page 47 of The Marquess' Wicked Wager
“It is cruelty.”
“It islove, my daughter. You will come to understand in time.”
“I shall never understand, not if you wed me to the Duke with that license of his. I will die before I have his heir. By his hand or my own.” Herown handswere trembling. She gripped onto the quilt for purchase. “If you loved me, you would let me walk a path of my own making.”
Her father frowned, and it made Edna feel sick. For all she loathed him at that moment, he was still her father, and she was not impervious to the tides of his emotions. “By settling for a known rake such as the Marquess of Remington? And you wonder why I must protect you.” He spoke with not a drop of anger—only sadness.
“He is not the man you think he is, papa.” Her brow knitted painfully. Before reason could intervene, she darted over to her father and threw herself before him. His lip quivered as he brought a hand to her face, and she felt so much like his little girl at that moment. “He has a good heart.”
“I will not let you throw your life away, my sparkling, darling girl. Not when you have been presented with an opportunity to rise above our dreams for you.”
“That is precisely my point, papa…your dreams are not my own.” Her voice, her resolve, were close to breaking.
“I will not lose you to him.”
She was not quite sure whichhimher father meant, but she supposed to Marquess. “You will lose me if you do not let me go.”
* * *
As expected, Violet had spared no expense for their stay. The guests had convened in the main hall of the house to kick off the marriage celebrations. All manner of lords and ladies trailed in, coiffed, painted, and garbed in every which way. Some had arrived earlier that afternoon as guests of the week-long house party; others, friends and acquaintances of Lord Miles, came to share in his surprising, unconventional joy.
The ribbons Edna had helped choose were bowed across the ceiling, running from beam the beam. The dance floor had been drawn in chalk to match, and dried blue and purple blooms had been set up on tippling tables. The tables themselves sprawled with every delight imaginable...but still none could stir Edna’s appetite.
She sipped soberly on a glass of ratafia with only her father for company. They had not shared a word since their disagreement, and he seemed no more inclined to debate the matters of her heart for her pleading. He stepped away for only a moment to greet a baron with whom he was acquainted. Still, it opened a window for Albert to sneak up on her.
“You look ravishing, Miss Worthington,” he breathed into her ear.
Edna hopped back, splashing ratafia down the dark blue front of her gown. It dripped from the crystals affixed to the neckline, but her worry was no contest to her rapture. Albert looked almost exactly as he had the night they had first met. His suit was crisp and dark, his cravat a brilliant, ice-white that brought out the gold of his skin. She had never suffered a more enthralling sight, and all dreams of etiquette and presence fell dead at her feet.
“I dare say you clean up quite nicely yourself, My Lord.” She felt her face flush red. “Are you enjoying your evening?”
He grinned, purring, “I would enjoy it more for your company, but I fear your father is making quite a show of his displeasure.” Then he continued, low enough no one should hear, “To that end…” He extended his hand to Edna.
“What?” She set her glass down behind her. “You mean to sneak away?”
“Not sneak, Blue—run, and fast, lest Violet catch us, and I receive a slipper up the backside.”
Edna could not contain her glee. With a bite of her lip, she took his hand. He led her out through the French windows at the back of the room, sticking to the wall so as not to alert the hosts of their egress. The warm, night air wreathed around her as Albert led her down the steps and into the gardens.
They came to a stop under an iron bower, swallowed up almost entirely by a red bloom Edna could not name. Before she could ask, Albert was upon her, pressing her up against the curved trellis walls, kissing her hungrily. She moaned against his mouth, wondering what more he might permit himself for their moment of solace. His thumb ran across her jaw; his other hand, nipping at her waist. He pulled away, and she almost melted into the grass underfoot.
Leaning into the other side of the bower, he tilted his head back and smiled. “God above, I wouldn’t have survived another hour without your kiss.” His eyes lifted, and he reached out for her again, kissing her quickly before the both of them settled back beside one another. “Or that one.”
Edna was suddenly quite bashful. It felt strange butgoodto not be playing a part as they had been. Perhaps, she thought, they had always been dangling from the stage. She did not regard Albert any differently for his admission, outside of the fact that she wanted himmore.
“You aren’t afraid someone might spy on us?”
He shook his head. “And for what? Unless you are quite fearful of being spotted withme, Blue. Whatever for?” he asked as he pulled her into him. Suddenly, they were dancing. Twirling around to the faint music from the hall. “I am so charming and funny and nice.” He dipped Edna low and kissed the spot where her neck met her shoulders before drawing her back up.
“You speak as though there is no worry of compromise for me, Albert.”
“Is there?”
“I am yet unmarried, lest you have forgotten.”
Their dancing came to a stop. In the light of the moon, surrounded by fragrant blooms with a man so wonderful, so surprising, so engaging he did not even seemreal, Edna wondered whether the moment was a dream. Everything had felt beyond real since their ill-fated meeting. If it were a dream, she feared the dawn more than anything.
“Perhaps that is a thing we should amend.”
