"You lost your father?" She said it as if she didn't think anyone else could experience a similar tragedy.
He nodded. "About six years ago." Despite the many years, he still didn't like talking about it. "Did Fanny not mention it?" That would save him from having to explain the traumatic event.
A scowl descended over Marianne's face, and he guessed her opinion of Fanny wasn't very high, but he was saved from learning the extent of her dislike by Elinor, who informed him that they weren't especially close to Fanny. He wasn't surprised by that statement.
"How did he die?" Marianne asked the question he'd been dreading. At least she began to lead him down the hallway where hopefully someone else might interrupt the conversation. Still, he had to give some sort of an answer.
"He was on his way home when a car ran a red light and hit him," was the usual response he gave. Edward never mentioned that he had been in the car as well, frantically trying to free his father from the mangled steel wrapped around him, while his father tried to say something before his lips stilled forever. "It was a huge shock to all of us," was all he could get out to describe it.
"Someone was hit by a car?" Another voice entered the conversation. He jerked, his eyes flying down the hallway to see an older version of Marianne moving toward them, but her face had the same genuine concern as Elinor. "I hope you're okay."
This had to be the formidable step-mother-in-law of Fanny, the one who supposedly seduced a man solely for his wealth. She certainly possessed beauty, even at the age of forty, but one look at that kind face with its automatic worry over a long-ago car accident told him the real reason why she had snagged the older, grieving man. She may have Marianne's looks, but she had Elinor's heart.
"Not him, Mom," Marianne stated with a roll of her eyes, and Edward couldn't help wondering if she'd taken a few lessons from Fanny. "His dad. He died."
The concern in the mother's face didn't lessen. "Oh, yes, I heard about that. Such a horrible tragedy."
"And you didn't bother to tell us?" Elinor abruptly asked. Edward glanced at her, surprised by her accusatory tone. He didn't think she had the capacity to accuse.
But her mother wasn't offended in the least. "You were so young. I didn't know how to break the news. And you had never met the man. I didn't know if you'd understand."
Edward froze at that statement. "You met him?" The topic of his father was banned in his family, and his mother had driven his father's old friends far away. Edward had no one to talk about him with anymore.
She shook her head. "I was never given that privilege, but my husband had, and he spoke very highly of him. Your father sounded like he was a very good man."
He wanted to laugh at the irony that the only person who he might be able to talk about his father with was a man who no longer had a fully functioning brain. Instead, Edward forced a smile. "He was." The image of his father, smiling at him and giving him a hug, rose to prominence. The memories were getting harder and harder to recall, but at least he could still remember the warmth of his love.
Love. The memory of Lucy spread across his vision like a poison, of her sweet smile, assuring him she would love him for the rest of her days. And he'd been foolish enough to believe it.
Edward shook himself as if that would toss the bitter memory out. When it didn't, he focused on the current conversation. Hadn't Mrs. Dashwood just been talking about her husband?
"I'm sorry to hear of your husband's stroke."
That turned the topic from the depressing one of his father's death, but they didn't seem very eager to discuss a topic probably as equally depressing for them, so the conversation soon moved to the city and how well he knew it. That wasn't a topic in which he could shine. He traveled a lot, but it was always for work, not pleasure, so he knew very little of the touristy things to do.
To his bemusement, the conversation morphed into an interrogation session, hosted by the very pushy Marianne. It was obvious she didn't think very highly of him. And while that may have made the dinner unbearable, it caused Elinor, to both Edward's amusement and concern, to continually try to defend him.
He tried to tell himself that she was only being nice—her own mother constantly sided with Elinor as well, insisting on giving him the benefit of the doubt—but Edward had never experienced having someone determined to paint him in the best light. Not even his father had done that. And it was a sensation he never wanted to end.
But then his phone rang. And that always ended everything.
Chapter 5
The face of Edward's unimpressed mother consumed his phone screen. Edward hesitated for a split second, then denied the call.
"Who was that?" Marianne asked.
"Sweetie," her mother cut in, "That's not something we need—"
"It's fine. It was my mother."
"You ignore your mother's phone calls?" Marianne asked as if that proved he were a terrible son.
Like before, Elinor rose to his defense. "He's being polite. It's rude to accept a call during dinner."
He wanted to smile at her, but his phone rang again, and the dreaded face of his mother re-appeared.
"Ah, sorry." Edward rose to his feet. "It must be urgent."
"No, no." Their mother stood as well. "Please, take the call. It's time we started cleaning up anyway."
That wasn't what he wanted, but he forced a thankful smile, then headed out into the hallway.
"Mother—"
"I hear you fancy one of Fanny's sisters-in-law."
Edward resisted groaning in frustration. He should have known his sister would have gone this route. "That would be incorrect."
"Are they pretty?"
"Most women are, Mother."
"I wasn't sure you noticed. This is the first time I've heard you fancied someone."
He'd fancied quite a few women but never dared to pursue them since he knew the relationship wouldn't survive the disapproval of his family. Well, except for one time—and that nightmare proved he had been smart to swear off all romantic escapades in the first place.
"I prefer numbers," was his response. "Fanny jumped to a conclusion when I admired the way the books had been kept at one of the businesses her stepfather-in-law ran."
"Fanny doesn't jump to conclusions."
Edward desperately wanted to disprove that statement but knew it would be useless.
"The books," his mother continued, "must have been done by one of the daughters—daughters of a woman well-versed in seducing wealthy men."
Now he had to bite his tongue to resist defending Elinor's mother. Honor demanded it, but if he did so, it would only cement his mother's suspicion that he was infatuated with one of the daughters.
"Where are you?" she asked.
Nothing would make him admit the truth. "I went out to eat."
"The family isn't bothering to feed you?"
Nor was he going to admit to that, either. "I decided to stay at a hotel." A perfectly true statement.
There was a pause on the other end. His mother was rarely at a loss for words so he took it as a compliment. She must have been impressed. Or at least surprised. A normal mother might have bothered to articulate such a thing, but his mother just changed the topic.
"I have a friend coming into New York City."
Edward raised an eyebrow. His mother didn't have friends. She had subjects.
"I want you to meet her," his mother continued, "and show her around."
Now both of his eyebrows shot upward. This was not something his mother normally required of him.
"And be sure to show her those books you admired. Her family would make an excellent buyer for the companies."
Comprehension dawned on him. His mother sought to divert his attention and thus save him from falling in love with one of the Dashwood daughters. But more importantly, his words to Fanny about selling the businesses had taken root. Elinor's employees would be able to keep their jobs!
"I would be glad to show her the businesses, Mother. I
think her company would find them to be lucrative investments. When is she arriving?"
"The details are in the email," was all his mother said before the line went dead. Like Fanny, that was her polite way of ending a call.
Seconds later, his phone dinged with the new email. He read over the details with a frown. A Miss Jessica Morton, with the Miss part underlined. That wasn't a detail his mother usually emphasized. He suddenly had a vision of Miss Morton: young, pretty, rich, and controllable—all adjectives that his mother preferred. This wasn't a distraction. It was a matchmaking attempt.
"Everything all right?" Elinor's voice drifted from behind him.
He whirled around, terrified she'd overheard anything. Not that he had said much, but she had been the subject for most of the call.
"Just business. Have you been waiting long?"
"No, I just came to inform you that we were cutting your cake, if you wanted a slice."
He'd completely forgotten about that cake. And it gave an excuse to prolong this dinner. But the sensible side of him insisted he must leave. The longer he stayed with them, the more he tempted his mother's wrath to descend upon them.
"Well, I—" Edward began, but Elinor cocked her head as if eager to hear whatever he had to say. And he suddenly didn't want to do anything sensible.
"I'd love a slice, thank you."
She smiled just like he'd hoped she would, then beckoned him to follow her, which he gladly did.
* * *
The following morning, Edward resolved to have a colder heart. He couldn't risk his family getting any ideas about how close their suspicions were to the truth, nor did he want Elinor and her family to get any ideas about the growing power they had on him. He needed to stick to cold, polite business.
Unfortunately, he discovered seriousness and silence were impossible around Elinor. She was not only brilliant with numbers but quick to pick up on things, understanding his suggestions before he managed to finish describing them. And Edward absolutely loved it when she laughed. He wasn't even sure how he pulled it off—he'd make a remark about something and she would find it funny, which only encouraged him to make more remarks. He'd never been so talkative in his life!
But then his phone rang. Not with a phone call this time, but with an alarm. The time had come for him to pick up Miss Morton.
He wished once again that Fanny hadn't assumed he'd fallen for Elinor—even if the assumption was completely true.
He stood up. "I'm afraid I must leave. I need to work on other things for my mother."
He half-hoped Elinor would beg him to stay, but she only nodded. "I understand. Will you be here tomorrow?"
"Yes." It was out before he thought about it. "Bright and early as always," he added as if that might diminish his obvious eagerness to return.
She grinned. "I'll try to beat you this time."
He laughed. That was probably the fifth time in the past hour. "If we make this a competition, I'm afraid you'll lose."
She raised an eyebrow. "Is that right? And how are you going to get in without a key?"
"By blocking your entry until you let me in first."
She shook her head with a laugh. "Not very chivalrous of you."
"It's a competition. All's fair in love and war." He winced as the phrase came out. He shouldn't have mentioned love. Now she might get ideas.
But Elinor only waved at him. "See you tomorrow, then." She was probably the only person Edward knew who seemed oblivious to the many ways she could take advantage of someone.
He hurried out of the room before he found another excuse to stay and banter with her. Besides, if he were late picking up Miss Morton, he knew that detail would get back to Fanny and his mother. Best to avoid that as much as possible.
After fighting traffic for an hour, Edward reached the airport just in time to greet Miss Morton. He'd been right in guessing she would be pretty, with big blonde ringlets bouncing around her shoulder, red lipstick and heavy eye makeup, but he hadn't expected her to be taller than him. Although if she took off her three-inch heels, he'd probably be taller then.
He put on his best polite smile and extended a hand. "Jessica Morton, correct?"
"Please, call me Jess." She shook his hand. "No point in being so formal. Can I call you Ed?"
"Uh—"
"Seems only fair if you're calling me Jess."
"Well, I—"
"Where's the car?"
He gave up trying to formulate a reply and led her to where he had parked his car.
"You didn't hire a limo?" Jess asked on the way to the parking lot, several airline employees trailing them with her entourage of luggage. If he hadn't been used to Fanny, Edward would have assumed she had packed for a month.
"I prefer to drive." It also gave him an excuse to avoid awkward chit-chat.
"Ooo, one of those 'of-the-people' types of guys, huh? That's so cute."
He decided to assume that was supposed to be a compliment.
"What type of car is it?"
This was a game he was familiar with. The brand game, where the upper class could determine if someone had the proper chops to be a part of them. But he had never cared to play the game. "A rental."
She didn't take the hint. "You didn't bring your own car?"
"I don't own one."
"Wow, that's a new one."
Edward glanced at her, surprised by her response. "New what?"
"You not bothering to own a car. My dad has at least seven."
He wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. Luckily, they had reached the rental car. Jess eyed it. So did the three airplane employees with the stack of suitcases as if they doubted the small car could contain them. He had the same worry but popped the trunk open and hoped for a miracle.
The three employees had to resort to using most of the backseat, but they succeeded in the task, and Edward made sure to tip them well for their efforts.
"Generous, aren't you?" Jess said as she slipped into the front passenger seat. "I like that in a man."
He was sure that was supposed to be a compliment, but he could only cringe. He had no desire to be liked by her. Too bossy. He much preferred Elinor—
But that wasn't a possibility anyway.
Edward focused on easing the car out of the airport while Jess over-detailed her trip to New York.
"Are you hungry?" he asked when she seemed to have exhausted the boring topic. Maybe if she had food in her mouth, she wouldn't talk as much.
"Starving. Take me to your favorite restaurant."
He doubted she'd approve of it. So he took her to a place he knew would please Lucy. The plan worked—she raved over his choice, but Edward couldn't help wondering how Elinor would react. And he had a hunch she'd prefer his favorite, too.
But neither of those facts were important since Elinor couldn't be in his life. He tried to focus on the chatty Jess instead, but since none of her topics involved numbers, he rarely succeeded.
"How about we talk about the businesses your family is interested in buying?" he ventured when she paused for breath.
The animated light in her eyes died. "I suppose we can."
That didn't bode well, but Edward pulled out his phone anyway. "I've made a short presentation—"
"Is it emailable?"
"Uh, yes."
"Good, email it to my parents. This whole thing is their idea, not mine."
Now he had no idea what to talk about. "Uh, then why are you here?"
Her eyes lit up again, and she propped her elbows on the table and leaned forward. "Ooo, are we addressing the elephant in the room?"
He felt like there were multiple elephants. "If it would make this easier..."
Jess leaned back with a bored sigh. "The rumors are right. You're too timid."
He decided he didn't want to talk about elephants after all and picked at the remains of his consumed dinner.
She eyed him for a silent moment. "Doesn't it drive you mad when you don't speak your mind?"
"I find the results to be worse."
"Not me. I find it agonizingly worse to be doing something I don't want to be doing."
He tapped his fork a few times. "Then, if you don't mind me asking, why are you here since you obviously don't want to be here?"
She arched an eyebrow. "Well, look at that. You might have a spine after all."
He was really starting to hate the lady.
"I'm here..." she played with her long, blond hair for a moment, "because I need a cover story."
He raised his eyebrows. "A what?"
She shot a glance at him. "How about we play the game our parents set up?"
He wished he knew what the game was, let alone the rules. "What game?"
"Oh, come on. My parents, out of the blue, send me to go look at some businesses I've never heard of while spending a week with an eligible guy my age that they would approve of. Have you not realized they're trying to set us up?"
Ah, that game. "I wasn't aware your parents were a part of it."
She scoffed. "They play dumb, but I know their tricks. So," she leaned forward, "I say we play a trick back: let's pretend we're dating."
Chapter 6
The image of Lucy's sickeningly sweet face shot before Edward's eyes. "That would not be a good idea."
"Why not? You can't be dating someone else since you wouldn't be set up with me. Unless..." Jess inched forward as if eager to hear a juicy secret, "you have your eye on someone and your mother wants to break it off."
He forced himself not to squirm in his seat and resorted to his usual response to romantic questions. "I prefer numbers."
"You saying you have no interest in women at all?"
"Numbers are easier to figure out."
She abruptly grinned. "Timid and shy! Yeah, those would be a bad combo to catch a girl."
His pride wanted to point out that he had technically caught a nightmare of a girl named Lucy, but since he was desperately trying to get out of her grasp, it didn't really count. Neither did he want to risk raising questions from the nosy Jess.
"What about you?" Edward asked. "This cover story of us dating must mean you have someone else in mind?"
Smitten With Sense: A Modern Sense And Sensibility Retelling (Pemberley Estates Book 4) Page 4
