by Martha Keyes
She shut the door to her bedchamber, leaning her forehead against it and shutting her eyes. She had enjoyed it every bit as much as the first kiss they had shared. More, even. And it hadn’t taken her more than a moment to realize that Elias was an essential ingredient to that enjoyment—or to hope he was taking as much pleasure in it as she was.
It was the next thought, though, which had caused her to pull away: the humiliating realization that Elias had kissed her unbidden—that she had given him no reason to think she would welcome a kiss, and yet he had done it anyway. She was a means to an end—one entry on a long list of women who had shared such moments with him.
And she couldn’t abide that thought.
Susan still lay peacefully in the bed, and Edith couldn’t bear to wake her. She looked at the state of her clothing and then found the handheld mirror to survey her face. She pulled her lips together to stifle an expression of dismay. She looked an utter and complete fool, flour covering her face in varying degrees of thickness, hair askew, lips slightly swollen.
She attempted to change without Susan’s help, but she was so undone, so jittery, that her movements were clumsy enough to disturb the maid’s sleep. Susan rubbed her eyes and rushed out of bed, clearly ashamed.
“Don’t fret, Susan,” Edith said, slipping out of her olive-green traveling dress. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Susan helped her into the only other dress Edith had brought—a long-sleeved pale blue muslin. She needn’t have changed, though, for she had no intention of leaving her room. It would mean facing Elias, and she hadn’t the first idea how to do that. She wouldn’t do so until she was in the company of Miss Perry—when there was no opportunity for private discussion.
But, as it turned out, she had only been cooped up for an hour, reading the supremely boring book Susan had been able to acquire from Mr. Drew, when a soft knock sounded on her door. Miss Perry no doubt.
“Come in,” Edith said.
The door remained shut.
A voice came through the door. “I merely wished to inform you that we can make our way back to Shipton House whenever you are ready.”
She threw her legs over the side of the bed and hurried to the door, opening it.
Elias was already a few steps down the corridor, not waiting for her response.
“Elias,” she said.
He stopped, but it was a moment before he turned, his expression impassive.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“Some men from the village have been working all morning to repair the bridge. They seem to have found success, based on the reports of equipages that have passed through in the last fifteen minutes. The damage was not so great as it was first thought to be.”
Home. They could go home. Edith didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified. “That is certainly unexpected. I shall have Susan prepare my things again. And hope that the bridge holds in the meantime.”
He nodded with a civil smile. “Very good.” He turned back toward his room, and she had to stifle the desire to call out to him again.
Elias had said any number of cutting and provoking things to her in the past, but nothing had affected her so much as the distant coolness he now showed. Was he hurt? Regretful? Annoyed?
Within half an hour, they were bidding Miss Perry goodbye as Elias helped her up into a hired chaise—something he had insisted upon paying for.
“Thank you both from the bottom of my heart,” Miss Perry said, pausing in the door of the carriage. “I don’t know how I should have borne these two days without you.” She looked to Elias with a bit of a smile. “I am relieved—as I am sure you are—that you weren’t obliged to escort me home on horseback.”
“It would have been my pleasure, Miss Perry, I assure you,” he said kindly, placing a soft kiss on her gloved hand. The gesture was as kind and intimate as his behavior toward Edith upstairs had been distant and aloof.
She felt the unwelcome but unmistakable stirrings of jealousy. Miss Perry was everything someone like Elias should want—everything he needed. Young, kind, optimistic. She was the perfect argument against Elias’s cynical view of women. Indeed, she was everything a woman was supposed to be—everything Edith was not.
But even more than that, she was everything Edith never could be. For what was Edith but the worst combination of her parents? She was her father’s anger and his sharp tongue; she was her mother’s stubbornness; she was both of their absolute determination to have their way, no matter the cost.
Edith wasn’t fit for marriage. She wasn’t fit for love.
It wasn’t until Miss Perry’s chaise was rolling out of the muddy yard that Edith noted the horse which stood by the waiting chaise, saddled and ready for a ride.
“Do you intend to ride?” she asked Elias.
He nodded, and his affirmative response hurt somewhere in her chest.
It was silly, of course. Not only was his riding beside the chaise a wise decision—less likely to incur the wrath of her father upon their arrival—but there was no reason at all for her to wish to spend another two hours with him in a carriage. And what concern was it of hers if he wished to arrive at Shipton covered in a thick layer of mud?
This was all a ruse, she reminded herself. It’s all it ever had been. And yet, somehow Edith felt like the fool at the center of it all, a victim of her own vengeful ambition, the butt of her own jest. No doubt Elias was laughing at her as well, just as he so clearly had been in the library—taunting her, pushing her to her limits.
The horrifying thought occurred to her that he might be a co-conspirator in all of this. What if he was playing her for the fool all along, convinced he could bring her to her knees?
Well, he had not brought her there. She certainly enjoyed his company more than she was comfortable admitting, and she had enjoyed kissing him—indeed, the thought of kissing someone else held little attraction for her. But if he thought more than that, he was fooling himself.
She climbed into the chaise before Elias could come assist her, but it was only a few minutes into the journey when the chaise slowed to a stop.
Edith peered through the carriage window. They had come to a bridge—the bridge, no doubt. The door opened, and Elias appeared, leading his horse by the reins.
“I think we should cross on foot,” he said. “To be safe.”
Susan rose obediently, but Edith remained in her seat. “Surely that isn’t necessary? We’ve passed at least five carriages, each of which must have crossed over the bridge—and one of them a heavily laden stagecoach with several people on top.” It was silly for Elias’s precaution to bother her, but it did. Or perhaps she just thrived on being defiant.
“Please,” he said, extending his hand to her, an imploring light in his eyes which made her heart jolt.
“Your attempts at chivalry are inspiring, I’m sure, but somewhat superfluous,” she said, but she stepped down all the same.
“Chivalry?” he said with a twinkling look at her. “I am merely doing whatever I can to save my own skin. I can’t imagine I would fare well with your father if I arrived at Shipton House without you.”
She offered no answer to this, but she couldn’t help wondering how much truth there might be to his jest.
Chapter Twenty-One
The bridge was crossed over uneventfully by people and equipage alike, and the rest of the journey passed in a similar, unremarkable manner. Elias had debated what to do when they reached the bridge, but in the end, he found that having the party cross on foot was the only solution which rid him of the heart-stopping images assailing his mind of the bridge collapsing under the weight of the chaise with Edith inside.
She was an enigma, impossible to fathom, by turns hot and cold. At times, he wondered if she hadn’t begun to feel something for him. But without fail, those moments were followed by one much like the one when she had shoved him away in the private parlor of the inn—a reminder that she wanted him no closer than arm’s length.
Precisely when Elias had lost track of that, he couldn’t say. But he certainly had lost track of it, allowing the lines between reality and charade to blur together, until he found himself in a fight against admitting what had truly occurred: he had fallen in love with Edith Donne.
The irony of it all was maddening, for he had fallen in love with the most potent testament he could possibly have found to what he had known for years: women were fickle creatures. Their emotions, their actions, their words were not to be trusted.
He let out a slow, steady breath as Shipton House came into sight. There would be laughter at their expense—provided Mr. Donne’s temper didn’t eclipse the humor. Either way, unpleasantness lay ahead as far as Elias’s eyes could see.
The large, wooden door to Shipton House opened as Elias dismounted and walked to the chaise to hand Edith down.
It was Matthew who came out, a look of astonishment on his face as he hurried over. “What the devil? What are you doing here?”
Elias’s head reared back as Edith stepped down. “What are we doing here?”
Matthew threw up his hands. “I thought you were for Scotland! No, dash it. You told me as much in that note.” He looked at Edith. “You haven’t got to Scotland and back in two days. What, then?”
Edith laughed, but it had a forced quality to it. “Don’t be ridiculous, Matthew. It was all a jest, of course!”
Matthew stared. “A jest?” He looked to Elias, and his brows snapped together. “What the devil does she mean, Eli?”
He looked to Edith, unsure how she wished for him to handle the situation, and he saw uncertainty in her eyes—a question he didn’t recognize.
She turned back to Matthew. “We know of the trick you meant to play on us. Ensuring Elias and I overheard your conversations.” She raised her brows. “We thought you could use a taste of your own medicine.”
Matthew scoffed, looking at her for all the world as if she were mad. “Perhaps if you’d left it at the note. But, hang it, Edith! You can’t leave with a man for two days and call it a jest!”
Edith’s color heightened, and her eyes flashed. “Well, if you had come after us like any half-decent brother, we might not be having this conversation. Why on earth do you think I left you a note and ensured its delivery so soon after our departure? Surely you can’t think I’d be stupid enough to do so if I were truly hoping to elope?”
“Come after you? When you chose the rainiest day of the year to elope? And after I saw you kissing Eli in the library like some dashed lightskirt?”
Elias took two strides over and threw a fist into Matthew’s face. Matthew stumbled back, covering his nose with a hand. He brought it away, blood on his fingers and dribbling from his nose. His eyes, blinking and watering, sought out Elias.
Elias flexed his fingers, feeling his knuckles burn. “Forgive me, but you shouldn’t talk to your sister like that, Matthew.”
Matthew swiped at his bloody nose with a thumb. “You’re giving me lessons on how to treat a woman after making off with her for days on end and bringing her home with no reputation to speak of?”
Elias’s jaw hardened, and he clenched his hands, feeling how the knuckles burned and bones ached on the one he’d used to punch Matthew.
“Contrary to what you believe,” Edith spat, “I require no protection. Not from either of you. My reputation is just that—my own—and it is none of your concern.” She pushed through them with a smoldering glare and made her way inside.
Matthew sniffed, scrunching his nose and wiping at the blood again. “I wouldn’t leave. My father will no doubt wish to have a word with you.”
Elias leveled an annoyed gaze at his friend. “Whether he wishes it or not, I will be requesting to have a word with him.”
Matthew turned to follow after Edith, leaving Elias to wonder how in the wide world he was to settle the situation to everyone’s satisfaction.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Edith had fully intended to speak with Elias before their arrival at Shipton House—to discuss how best to handle the inevitable explanation which would be required of them. But she had not counted on his riding beside rather than in the chaise, and Matthew had ensured that there was no opportunity for a private word once they did arrive.
Her father seemed to have been notified of their arrival, for Edith was informed after a mere five minutes in her bedchamber that she was expected in her father’s study immediately.
She took in a steadying breath. The way before her was anything but clear. Based on Matthew’s surprise, the family hadn’t any idea that their journey had ended at The Old Dog and Pheasant. Edith and Elias had done too good a job at making the elopement believable.
Her family’s ignorance also meant, though, that there had been no communication from Mr. Stratton, an enormous relief to Edith. Her father’s wrath would be great enough without adding that blow on top.
Her cynicism told her that it was only a matter of time until Mr. Stratton made use of what he knew, but she couldn’t help hoping she was wrong. Perhaps her story had satisfied him, particularly as she and Elias had given no other indication that their relationship was anything but platonic.
Not until after Stratton’s departure, that is.
She slowed as she neared the door of the study, seeing Elias approaching from down the corridor.
“What are you doing?” she said.
“I am to speak with your father.”
She shook her head. “It will be for the best if I speak to him first.”
Elias shrugged. “I cannot simply ignore his request. More like a command than a request, really.”
Edith stared at him, her stomach clenching. He had called them to come in together? “Then I suppose we must both go in, for my presence is also requested.”
Elias nodded, his face impassive as he invited her to pass before him.
Edith’s father was seated behind his desk, and he stared at them wordlessly as they took their seats across from him. The silence lengthened, but Edith knew better than to so much as move. The large vein in her father’s forehead bulged, telling her that the slightest movement could spark an explosion of wrath. Edith looked to Elias to send him a silent warning, but it was too late.
“Mr. Donne, please allow me—”
Her father shot up from his seat, his hands gripping the edge of the desk. “Silence!”
Elias started in his chair, and Edith shut her eyes, blocking out the way her father’s face and hands trembled, as if it might lessen the tension in the room.
“Never,” he spat, “in all my years did I imagine that I would raise a good-for-nothing hoyden for a daughter.”
Edith saw Elias stiffen beside her. He was unaccustomed to her father’s temper. This meeting would be most unpleasant for him.
“A hoyden, I say!” her father said, looking to Edith. “Explain yourself!”
For a moment, Edith considered ironically thanking her father for his concern over her safety, but she knew it would only add fuel to the fire.
Instead, she set about explaining, as rationally as she could, what had led them to embark upon their journey and return two days later. There wasn’t a chance of her father sympathizing with the reasoning provided to him. Playing a trick on someone for pure amusement was a concept entirely foreign to a man whose every decision was calculated to bring about a practical result. But the truth was the only option. Her father had no patience for anything but directness.
To her surprise, he listened without saying a word as she recounted their implausible tale.
“I assure you, Father, that we took every precaution to guard my reputation.”
Elias nodded.
<
br /> “If that were true, you would not have left in the first place!” Her father’s face exploded in color, and he slammed a fist on the table. “And you, Mr. Abram. What have you to say for yourself? My daughter is clearly no better than a jade, but I thought better of you.”
Elias glanced at Edith, who looked away, trying to stifle the embarrassment she felt at her father’s description of her.
“I am afraid that I have no satisfactory excuse, sir, and can only assure you that I would never purposely endanger your daughter’s reputation.”
“Is that so? Then I suppose you are prepared to marry her, are you?”
Edith froze, gaze flying to her father. “Father!”
He leveled a furious glance at her. “What did you expect? That you would be able to waltz back here as though nothing had happened? I think not! You shall marry, of course.”
She shook her head from side to side frantically. “You assured me that I was free to choose whether I wished to marry, and I have assured you time and again that I do not wish to.”
“Perhaps you should have considered that before playing a hoyden’s trick on your family! It is not at all what your aunt imagined when she left you her fortune, I assure you.”
She made to rise, and Elias set a hand on hers, directing a look at her that was both pleading and full of warning. She held his eyes for a moment, then resumed her seat, trying to take in deep breaths to steady herself. Matching her father’s anger would do nothing. But she would do anything to stop his forcing a marriage upon them.
“I understand your anger, Father.” She willed her voice to sound calm. “Indeed, I am very sorry for the turn things took. It was folly on my part, and I accept the full blame. But there is truly no need for Elias and me to marry.” She found she was leaning forward, her hands clasped as she appealed to whatever mercy might lay hidden inside her father’s heart. “If you are in any doubt of the care we took, you may apply to Miss Perry, for she can attest to it—indeed, she slept in the same room—the same bed—as me.”
