Page 23 of The Marquess' Wicked Wager
Edna let out a small grumble of approval. She could not resist him, no matter how much he confused her, especially if it meant she could circumvent morepryingfrom their guests.
They stood opposite one another as a quadrille began to form, the music coming to life all at once. Edna hopped, skipped, and paced, performing the moves to the best of her ability and memory. She watched Albert dance, and his spirit seemed to lighten as he watched her too. Soon, they found themselves grinning from ear to ear, laughing amongst themselves when the dance brought them close. Edna felt her heart lurch when she had to leave him again to be thrown in the arms of another man.
It struck her suddenly how strong their alliance had become in such a short amount of time. Albert, in a way, felt like a friend. Only, unlike so many of her friends, he did not want anything from her: not her gossip or her company to pass the time or to borrow her good penmanship. He was there, in her corner, out of the goodness of his soul.
Edna began to wonder what might have happened had her father not wagered the rights to her courtship. Whether, in another life, he would look at her with the same protectiveness; whether she would be his little diamond as he put it; whether he would even speak to her. She didn’t like where her mind was going because it was dark and lonely.
He danced his way back to her, cradling her in his hold, and he brought the sun with him. How terribly handsome he was, she thought, how tall and well-spoken. He was perfect, and he was pretending to be hers. And he pretendedsoeasily, one might be mistaken for thinking he actually tolerated her, that he wanted her.
But he didn’t, did he? Not really. Because this was just a ruse.
* * *
Something happened as they danced, but Albert couldn’t put a name to it. He hadn’t danced a quadrille in years, and his steps were heavy and mismatched. Somehow, he didn’t care. He only cared for how happy Miss Worthington looked and then for how sad. Her expression was coming in and out like the tide, and he was powerless to stop it from retreating again.
She whipped past him as the music began its climb, and she almost felt like a dream. He yearned, quite surprisingly, to reach out for her. To take her in his arms as he had when first they had danced. To smell her. To damn neartasteher on the air. It was returned—the passion that had seized him when first he had kissed her. Her presence was as unmistakable as the sun, calling to him with its bright, unending siren song.
He lost her again in that dimly lit room, and he searched for her among the flock of dancers, all trapped in her current. He didn’t catch her for a moment and then, a moment more. Until suddenly, something else caught his eye, something that made his stomach churn: his father’s face, smirking between a set of dancers.
Albert shook his head. He must have been imagining things, the shadow of his father hounding him wheresoever he went. By some miracle, he found Edna again, and she fell into his arms with a smile, all chestnut ringlets, and ruby-red silk. He relished her company and thought to speak, but before his mind could send word to his mouth to warn her, she was gone again, taken away by some impish baron.
He took another lady into his embrace, but she slipped from him as a ghost when he saw his father’s grim countenance again. Hewasthere, standing by the fireplace next to the Viscount, nursing a drink. And he looked most resentful and amused.
Albert let out a small gasp, and time seemed to stand on its head.
“My Lord?” he heard as if from a great distance. “My Lord?” came again, clearer now. He looked down. Edna was there, and she was clutching at the sleeves of his coat to rouse him.
He licked his lips and tried to calm his breathing. The music had died, and another set of dancers were making their way to the center of the room. “What have I told you about calling me that?” he chastised with as much playfulness as he could muster. When he looked back up, his father was gone. His heart began to race. Edna said something else, something sweeter than his worry, but he couldn’t hear her. “With me,” he ordered, grabbing her by the wrist.
They were in the gardens before he knew it. The cool night air felt like heaven against his skin, and the world came back into focus. Her glacial blue eyes were wide with fear, and they bore into him like he was mad. Maybe he was.
“Might you tell me what all that was about?” Edna demanded, and her voice was like an anchor. He hooked on it for dear life.
He looked off across the potted orange perennials, even further to the horizon, until he found the courage to speak. He loathed how disarmed he felt around Edna, how powerless. “I thought I saw my father standing by your own,” he admitted at last, and it knocked the breath from Miss Worthington.
“Are you sure? I could not see—”
“That is why I said,I thoughtto have seen him. He was there, and then he was not. I—” he cut himself off, realizing at once how foolish he must look. “Forgive me, I should not have dragged you out here. You are hardly on my leash.”
Edna stepped to the edge of the terrace beyond which lay a small, empty koi pond. She seemed to think for a while, staring off wistfully toward the stars. “Under usual circumstances, I might worry about being unchaperoned with you. But none of this is usual.”
She took on a contemplative air. Albert felt drawn to her, much like a moth to a flame. Any closer and the both of them would burn. “We could head back—”
“Your father ruined you, didn’t he?” she asked without hesitation. “I do not mean in the matters of reputation. I mean,your soul. He haunts you.”
Albert’s cravat was suddenly tight around his throat, like the executioner’s coil. “He...haunts me,” he echoed but then felt himself retreat inwardly. “I do not want to speak of this.”
“You said we must be honest. He gave you that bruise,” she said, but her voice broke. “He visited you, didn’t he? When he found out?”
“I said—” Albert began, readying his defense. But Edna turned then, and it was almost as though she looked through him. “Why do you care?” he importuned. “It doesn’t matter what I think or feel.”
Edna scoffed gently, and the sound of it was so charming that Albert walked toward her. “Who told you that?” she whispered. “The Duke did, I would wager. Tell me what he said. Tell me why he hit you. I will not go through with this if it means putting your life on the line.”
Her declaration made fear tunnel through him, but he swallowed it down. “You are…” he sighed, “unrelenting.”
“Good,” she replied with a smile then looked back to the water below.
“But you are right. He did come to visit me once he heard of our engagement.”
