The run had burned away much of the fear gnawing at me. In its wake, I could only look on what had happened as a temporary insanity. Much like this engagement would run its course, so too would my desire for Edwin. We weren’t the same people we once were—we weren’t suited to one another. My heartbeat slowed as I turned away from the room.
Brutus mounted the stairs, a letter clutched in his hand. “I thought I heard you come in. This came for you while you were out. The messenger said it was urgent.”
That explained the broken seal. The household must have wanted to verify the contents. “And is it?”
“Time sensitive, perhaps, but not urgent. A Mrs. Craven wants to know if you’re willing to meet with her this morning before the heat peaks rather than this afternoon.”
“Will you bring the reply? Tell her I’ll be ready in half an hour.” I blessed my forethought in ensuring the staff were able to read and write. Pretending to be someone I wasn’t sounded like just the thing I needed to lift my mind from this temporary insanity between me and Edwin. And if I conveniently “forgot” my paints, perhaps I wouldn’t have to worry about this watercolor nonsense, either.
Chapter Seven
The moment I removed Puck’s leash and straightened, I came face to face with the horrid watercolor I’d painted the day before at Vauxhall Gardens. The pink splotch was supposed to be a flower. Truthfully, the only thing uglier than the watercolor was poor Winifred’s bonnet. Why, then, had Jane framed it? With a sigh, I took it down. If anyone deserved to look at it, it was Edwin. At least for the next eleven days. If I had to pretend to be the delicate flower I’d painted, he should have to suffer in some small way by acting as though he admired it. That was the ruse we’d agreed to, after all.
“Mary, is that you?” Jane bustled out of the sitting room. She looked harried. “A footman is here for you. He said it’s urgent. He won’t leave until he delivers the message himself.” She frowned. “What are you doing with the watercolor?”
“I’m going to give it to my fiancé. What’s this about a footman?”
Jane danced from foot to foot. I’d never seen her so upset, not even when the occasional mistreated woman showed up at my door seeking sanctuary. She gestured to the open doorway. “See for yourself.”
Fearing the worst, I stepped into the sitting room. Fortunately, I didn’t find a woman bleeding on the upholstery. The young man—Harry, if I recalled his name correctly—wore Old Lady Gladstone’s ruby livery. He clutched a letter in his hand. “Miss Mary, I’ve been directed to deliver this missive to you at once.”
How long had he waited? At least I hadn’t been gone terribly long with Puck. I’d needed a walk to clear my head, at a loss without an injustice to set to rights. But why Old Lady Gladstone had sent instructions not to leave the letter behind, I couldn’t know. What could possibly be so important?
I reached for the missive. As my fingers closed around the smooth, thick parchment, I said, “Thank you.”
He clasped his hands behind his back, but didn’t move. “I’ve been instructed not to return alone.”
Wonderful. I broke the wax seal on the letter with my fingernail. As I expected, it was a summons to report to the Gladstone manor in Hanover Square as soon as possible. But, to my astonishment, it was not from Old Lady Gladstone.
It was from Edwin’s mother.
I met the footman’s gaze but didn’t say a word.
He said, “I left the carriage at a livery a couple of streets over. I will fetch it directly. Wait here, miss.”
“I’ll have to change my dress,” I said weakly. Puck had managed to drag me through a patch of mud along the way. Instead of dressing, I sank onto the divan as he hurried from the room. My knees didn’t want to hold me any longer.
Jane lingered in the doorway, concern written on her face. “What is it?” she asked. “Are you in danger?”
“What?” I shook my head. “Certainly not. Don’t be fanciful. Edwin’s mother, Lady Yarmouth wants to see me, that’s all.”
“What need could she have to see you? She’s never requested your presence before.”
I lowered my head into my hands. “I don’t know, Jane. I wish I did.” Mustering my strength, I stood and offered a thin smile. “I suppose I’ll find out before too long.”
The longer I waited—first for the carriage, then during the ride along the clogged streets to Hanover Square—the more the knots in my stomach tightened. I’d never gotten on well with Edwin’s mother, not even as a child.
To be perfectly honest, I thought her a weak-willed, silly woman who cared more for herself than she did for her sons. After all, she’d held Edwin back from going to school with his peers in order to keep him close, whereas his brother was allowed to gallivant as he pleased. It was only when Edwin had left for Oxford, already a young man and no longer a boy, that he’d finally put his foot down.
And I’d been so hurt and uneasy about being left behind that I hadn’t supported him in that decision. Thinking about our last argument left a storm cloud in my chest. But I hadn’t fought with my friends this time and they’d all left London anyway. Perhaps I drove people away.
The shadow of the townhouse fell over me as I stepped out of the carriage, chasing away my thoughts. Although it loomed as tall as Edwin’s house, it was at least three times as wide, with grounds stretching green for at least as wide an area as the house itself. The neighbors to either side around the square each sported houses equally as lovely. These were the townhouses of dukes and marquesses. And, in the case of Old Lady Gladstone’s infirm husband, of earls.
Leaving the carriage in the care of another footman, Harry ushered me into the house. He directed me up the lofty steps to the second floor. I mounted the stairs with trepidation. My shoes left flecks of mud denting the scarlet runner. Even when I’d studied here as a child, I’d never once ventured to the second floor. In the west wing of the house, behind a locked door, the earl resided, waited on around the clock by a bevy of servants. The corridor stretched toward the east, providing access to several bedchambers. Since Lady Yarmouth had lived to such an age that her imagined infirmaries might become real, the third chamber to the right had been allotted to her care. I swallowed as Harry rapped on the door, announcing my presence.
Although the old woman was propped up in bed, she looked in perfect health, plump and cheerful. Her round cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkled with liveliness, her hair was neatly braided and tucked over one shoulder. She clasped her hands over a book resting in her lap.
I balked in the doorway. The room reeked of lavender and chamomile, the air stuffy despite the open window. “I am not reading to you.”
The last time had involved something heinous like a treatise about cows.
The lady pouted, her fat lower lip jutting out. “You wouldn’t tend to an old woman’s needs?”
“Not by reading to you. I had enough torture when I was a child.” Tentatively, I stepped into the tidy room. Judging by the clutter on every flat surface, the dowager had an unhealthy fondness for porcelain cats. I was afraid to sneeze, lest I break one.
The woman raised her eyebrows, looking very much like her son at that moment. “Is that why you snuck into my house through the kitchens instead of using the front door?”
I winced. So she’d known about that. I’d hoped it had escaped her notice.
In fact, nothing good could come of her noticing me now. We never spoke. She never attended any parties due to her “poor health.” To my recollection, Old Lady Gladstone hadn’t even thrown any dinner parties during which both I and Lady Yarmouth had been in attendance. I knew her only as a shadowy figure I’d had the misfortune of meeting once or twice as a child.
She patted the periwinkle coverlet beside her. “Then it’s lucky I didn’t ask you here to read to me.”
If it had been, I might have to do something drastic. Like change residences without telling the Gladstone servants where to find me. I sensed a simple refusal would not
be enough to quell the dowager when she latched onto a subject.
Hesitantly, I crossed the room to perch on the bed. She rested precisely in the middle of a bed wide enough to sleep five people. Although I was within arm’s distance of her when I sat, I wasn’t near enough to brush against her. It gave me the illusion of control during this conversation.
She patted the bed again, beckoning me closer.
I gave her a wan smile. “Wouldn’t you prefer to have this conversation upright? The sitting room is not far. I can help you down.”
“Oh, no.” She beamed.
She patted my hand where it lay between us, bearing the brunt of my weight. Her skin was soft and almost papery in its delicacy.
“Here is fine. Shall I ring for some tea?”
She didn’t have to ring. Harry had waited by the door. The moment he heard the suggestion, he nodded to her and disappeared down the hall. He’d best bring cookies with him when he returns. I needed the fortification.
The old lady beamed at me but didn’t speak another word. Had she called me here to stare at me? I cleared my throat.
“Have you gotten thinner?” she asked. “You need to eat more. Perhaps I should have asked Harry to bring us up some lunch, as well.”
I forced a smile. “Thank you, but I’m not hungry.”
She shook her head ruefully. “Well, I suppose that will change once you’ve had some time to adjust to your new role. I imagine my Edwin can provide much better quality of meals than your poor father.”
I bristled. What did she mean to imply?
She must have read the hostility on my face, because she held up her hands. “I don’t mean any disrespect to your father. He is a well-spoken man if I recall correctly. But even he cannot work long enough to cover the expenses of all the transients you welcome into your house. If it weren’t for Louise, I daresay he couldn’t afford to continue to live in London.”
My chest constricted. Too many questions passed across my mind, not the least of all where she learned her information. Maybe it was her imagination.
“We do fine,” I said slowly. “Without Lady Gladstone’s support I might not be able to attend the Season, but Papa covers our other expenses. Including the people I help.”
I defied her to tell me differently.
She patted my hand again. She had quite the strength for a woman who was supposedly infirm. “You do help a great many people, my dear.”
I drew myself up, squaring my shoulders. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Dear me, no.” She fluttered her free hand over her chest, as if the thought sent her into palpitations. “It shows you have a kind heart. A very kind heart, indeed.”
At that moment, Harry re-entered the room bearing a tray with tea and several small squares of bread and cheese. He set the tray on the far side table, then busied himself fixing two cups and balancing two squares of the bread and cheese on the saucer. He passed one first to the dowager, the second to me.
The squares were slight little things, a sliver of cheddar between thin-sliced bread, but the old woman stared at me expectantly. I nibbled on the edge of one and offered her a smile.
That seemed to satisfy her. For the moment, at least.
She polished off a tiny square and sipped half her tea before she spoke again. “So you’ve been engaged to my son for the better part of a week now.”
Three days.
I winced around a mouthful of tea. It burned the top of my mouth and threatened to shoot up my nose. With great difficulty, I swallowed. I gasped for breath. Harry started forward, raising his fist to thump me on the back, but I waved him away.
When I looked up, the dowager’s face loomed close to mine. I yelped, backing up so quickly, I spilled tea over my cream-colored dress.
She frowned. “Oh, dear. That won’t do. Take it off. You can wear one of mine.”
I shook my head vigorously. “That won’t be necessary. I’m sure my maid will do a fine job of taking out the stain once I return home.” When Harry started forward, I thrust the teacup and saucer into his hands. A piece of bread teetered on the end and fell onto the carpet. I left it there.
“I should be going.”
The dowager’s eyebrows lowered over her eyes with disapproval. It was the first negative emotion I’d seen her display since I’d walked in.
“I won’t hear of it,” she said stiffly. “We haven’t finished our visit.”
The Lord only knew what she’d summoned me here to discuss.
She pointed to the bed once more, on the opposite side from where I’d spilled the tea. Reluctantly, I marched over and perched as far away from her as possible. If I walked out the door, what could she do?
Most likely, tattle on me to Edwin. And I didn’t care to hear what he had to say on the subject.
“I wanted to discuss wedding plans with you.”
The room spun. As if from a great distance, I felt the dowager clutch my hand. I forced myself to breathe, slowly, in through my nose and out through my mouth. Weakly, I said, “I believe Lady Gladstone is taking care of the preparations.”
After all, what else could I say? I have no intention of marrying your son.
She pouted. “Don’t you want to have a say in the decorations, or the style of your dress? You’ll need a fitting, at the very least.”
“Doesn’t the modiste have my measurements?” I usually received my dresses on delivery without having ordered any. Old Lady Gladstone handled my wardrobe. The system worked well for me, considering I didn’t care to wait while a woman poked me with pins.
“But you’re so thin,” the dowager exclaimed. “You must have new measurements taken, to ensure the dress fits properly. It is the happiest day of your life. You must have a dress just as resplendent as you are.”
Is that a compliment? It sounded more like an accusation.
“I’m sure whatever Lady Gladstone decides will be lovely.”
The dowager narrowed her eyes. Her irises darkened, looking almost smoky in the wan sunlight streaming through the open window. “Unless you think you will fill out by the time the wedding arrives…”
Fill out? Black spots formed on my vision. Surely she couldn’t be implying I was with child! “No,” I said, infusing my voice with as much force and authority as I could. “There is no possibility of…that.”
With a harrumph, the old woman rested back against the pillows cushioning her back. “You’re quite right,” she said. “The wedding will be held in a week; there will be no change by then.”
For the next five seconds, my heart stopped beating. I had to have heard wrong. I had eleven days left in the contract with Edwin. We couldn’t possibly be getting married in seven.
“No. That’s an exaggeration. Lady Gladstone said she wanted to have time to read the banns, so we didn’t arouse anyone’s suspicions as to why we decided to have so hasty a wedding.”
I had more time, damn it! More time to counteract the rumors. More time to get to the bottom of Edwin’s secrets. More time to end our association once and for all.
The dowager said, “That was before you two were discovered in a compromising position.”
I shook my head. “Nothing happened, I swear it. We were only talking.”
“That isn’t what it looked like to Mrs. Craven. Even I heard of the rumor, and I hardly ever have cause to leave my room.”
She patted my hand and this time, I clutched it back so fiercely, her bones creaked. “We haven’t done anything that isn’t strictly proper.”
Multiple images of our heated embraces entered my mind’s eye, including the one when he’d been naked and we’d been in his bed. Heat stained my cheeks. I prayed she wouldn’t notice. Tears stung at my eyes, just enough to be uncomfortable, but not enough to make my eyes red, I hoped. I held them at bay.
“I have more time,” I whispered.
She yanked my hand onto her lap. The movement was so sudden and forceful, I nearly planted face first into the coverlet. With difficulty,
I adjusted my position until I wasn’t in danger of smothering myself.
“Your mother died when you were very young.”
“Twelve.” My voice was barely audible.
“It is a horrible thing for a young girl to have to go through. Not to have your mother to guide you…you must be very afraid.”
“Afraid?” I lifted my gaze to meet hers, but when I did, I found only kindness there.
“Of course,” she said softly. “I was very afraid before my wedding.”
I’d never heard that. The way Edwin spoke of his father, I’d assumed his mother had loved the man as much as he did.
The dowager continued, “It’s a very frightening thing to tie yourself to a man for the rest of your life. I’m sure you’d like to have more time to get to know your husband before you enter into married bliss.”
I don’t think bliss would be quite the word to describe what married life between me and Edwin would be like.
She patted my hand. “It’s normal to feel that way. But you and he know each other a good deal more than most brides do their grooms. It will work out all right. My Edwin is a sweet boy, you’ll see. I’m sure you’ll return his love, in time.”
Love? Who said anything about love? Lady Yarmouth was mad. Given the venom with which he treated me, the very last sentiment Edwin had for me was love.
But maybe, before he’d left for Oxford…
No. It couldn’t be true. He’d left and he hadn’t once tried to contact me, not even upon his return to London.
“Edwin doesn’t love me.” The words tasted bitter, but I had to set the record straight.
Lady Yarmouth patted my hand. “Of course he does, dear. He always has. He might pretend, but he hasn’t changed that much. Now, let’s discuss the wedding…”
My ears rang as I stared at her blankly. One thing was for certain: Edwin and I had less time than I’d hoped to wrestle ourselves free of this arrangement. If he thought I was meekly walking down the aisle with him on a technicality, he was wrong.
As to that nonsense about him being in love with me, Lady Yarmouth had to be mistaken…didn’t she?
How to Fall for the Wrong Man Page 8
