My Wild Heart (Regency Shakespeare Book 2)

by Martha Keyes

  Her father’s forehead wrinkled. “And who is this Miss Perry? Where was her chaperon on this journey?”

  Edith swallowed, feeling trapped. She looked to Elias. He was watching her with a strange look in his eye—a touch of sadness, perhaps? But his gaze moved to her father.

  “If I may, sir, I think a swift marriage between us is more likely to occasion gossip than doing nothing, particularly after we took such pains to avoid any behavior that might give anyone reason to doubt our story. Would it not be better to wait and see if such a step is necessary?”

  For the first time, her father hesitated. No doubt he was thinking of the repercussions of both routes, and Edith sat anxiously on the edge of her seat as he deliberated, brushing off the impulse she felt to take Elias’s hand as they awaited her father’s decision.

  “There is something to what you say,” her father said. “I am getting the necessary votes in place for the bill I hope will be voted upon when we resume in the autumn, and I cannot afford to occasion any gossip, which is certainly what would happen if it became known that my daughter had married so suddenly.” He looked to Edith with a flash of annoyance. “You have put about your opinion on the subject too widely for people to accept a sudden marriage without comment, and I understand that you” —he indicated Elias— “have done very much the same.”

  Elias demonstrated only the slightest hesitation before nodding. “I’m afraid my views are also quite generally known, sir.”

  Her father scoffed. “As if anyone was permitted to have opinions on marriage!” He waved a dismissive hand. “Go! Get out of my sight before I change my mind. But mark my words! If I hear even the faintest whisper of scandal….” He trailed off threateningly.

  Edith rose with as much quick calm as she could muster, hoping not to anger her father by being too slow or too quick. “Thank you, Father.” Her voice was just as feeble as her legs felt, weak as they were with relief.

  Not wishing to give her father any reason to question what there was between Elias and her, she walked quickly out of the room, releasing a shut-eyed, shuddering breath when she was safely away from her father’s scrutiny.

  Down the corridor, she spied Mercy and Viola, passing through the doorway into one of the parlors. Mercy turned her head before entering, though, and stopped in place. “Edith!” She came toward her. “What happened? We saw Matthew come in with blood on his face and shirt not so long since.”

  Edith’s mouth drew into a line, and she guided Mercy back in the direction of the parlor with a firm grasp on her slender arm. “You may well wonder—and pray to escape the same fate by my hand, for I assure you, I am sorely tempted!”

  Viola scurried into the parlor ahead of them.

  “We never dreamed you would respond to the prank in such a way,” Mercy said, her eyes full of apology as she shut the door. “It was all in good fun, but things went terribly awry. I am so very sorry, Edith.”

  “And I as well,” Viola said with a pleading look. “Had I known what the result would be, nothing would have induced me….”

  Edith took in a large breath and shook her head, thinking how near a miss it all had been. They hardly knew the havoc they had wreaked, and Edith had no intent whatsoever of admitting to them what commotion and confusion their silly prank had caused her. She wouldn’t let anybody know.

  She summoned a reluctant smile. “I admit it was a good prank. And there is no lasting harm done, after all, as long as we can persuade Matthew and Elias to play nicely with one another. For his part, my father has agreed to let things lie.”

  Mercy heaved a sigh of relief. “Thank heaven. I imagine you would never forgive us if you and Elias were forced to marry as a result of it all.”

  “You can be sure of that,” Edith said. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I want nothing so much as my own bed and an hour or two of sleep.”

  They nodded, and Edith left the room, exhaustion seeping into her bones. Now that the meeting with her father was past, she realized how much fear she had been trying to keep at bay.

  Thank heaven for Elias’s presence in the meeting. Without his words, Edith might be preparing herself for the very thing she had spent her whole life avoiding.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Elias dipped his head deferentially to Mr. Donne and strode from the room, jumping slightly when Mr. Donne shut the door firmly behind him. He gazed down the corridor and saw Edith slip into the parlor with Mercy. He had known a hope that she would be waiting for him outside the study. But free from the threat of marriage to Elias, she had made the quickest escape she could manage.

  He stood in the corridor for a moment, leaning his back against the wall, resisting the urge to bang his head against it again and again. He shut his eyes and let out a frustrated breath. If only he could go back to two weeks ago, before any of this had happened.

  “Elias?”

  He stood up straight, watching as Edith walked down the corridor toward him from the parlor, brushing a finger along her lip distractedly. She came to stand before him, and he noted for the first time how tired she looked. With a glance up and down the corridor, she took his hand.

  “Thank you,” she said, her voice full of genuine gratitude. There was a haunted look in her eyes, as though she had just escaped a terrible fate, and it pierced him.

  He managed a chuckle he hoped sounded casual and detached—everything he was not. “For what?”

  “It was your words that pacified my father.”

  He shrugged. “Did you think I would sit idly by while he consigned us both to a future of misery?” He couldn’t keep a hint of bitterness from his tone, but she seemed not to notice.

  Indeed, she laughed softly, letting his hand drop. “No, of course not. But thank you all the same.” There was softness in her eyes as she looked at him, and the irony of it stung. Nothing he could do or say to Edith could bring about such a softening except saving her from the terrible fate of a lifetime with him. Several cutting responses came to mind—he had trained his mind to strike too well—but even in his hurt, he couldn’t bring himself to do anything that might change the way she was looking at him.

  He swallowed his pain. “You are welcome.”

  She pressed his hand again, her gaze holding his for a moment, then dropped his hand and left.

  He sighed as Edith grew further and further from him. The only one who seemed to be paying a steep price for the jest was Elias himself. He’d forfeited a friend. He’d sacrificed his pride.

  And he’d lost his heart.

  There was no point in staying at Shipton Hall now.

  Elias fully expected dinner to be an unpleasant affair, but there seemed to be no alternative to suffering through it, for he had no desire to offend his hosts by leaving less than two hours after his arrival—particularly not when he was in such a precarious position. He would leave in the morning.

  There was little doubt in his mind that the right thing to do—the expected thing—was to marry Edith.

  Yes, the idea to elope had been hers. But that would hardly matter to anyone. Nor would it matter that it had all been for sport. In the eyes of Society, Edith’s reputation required salvaging—and he was the one to do it.

  To Edith, the idea that she needed saving would be offensive at best, and Elias wasn’t under any illusion that she had changed her tune regarding the desirability of marriage.

  So, he was stuck between two impossible choices: marrying an unwilling bride who would resent him for the rest of his life, or allowing the reputation of the woman he loved—to say nothing of his own reputation—to be forever tainted if their escapade ever came to light.

  Edith apparently regarded the latter of the two options as preferable, a fact which hurt both Elias’s pride and his heart. He was every bit the fool of a man he had always derided: besotted by a woman who cared for him not a jot. Edith was merely more honest about her disdain than most of her sex.

  Perhaps she was confident, too, that their folly would
never be made known. For his part, Elias was too pragmatic to believe anything of the sort. He had spent enough nights at card tables and clubs to know how easily gossip circulated, and both Miss Perry and Mr. Stratton knew of their charade.

  He had no doubt Miss Perry wished them well, but even an idle word of hers regarding her stay at the inn might prove their undoing. Mr. Stratton was much less predictable, and the odds of him keeping silent about what he had witnessed seemed highly unlikely to Elias.

  There was one bit of good news, however. Mr. Donne was not to be present at dinner. He was engaged yet again on another political errand—dining with one of the MPs in the neighboring district whose party loyalties seemed to be shifting.

  Mr. Donne’s absence lightened the mood considerably, and good humor abounded at half of the table, presided over by Mrs. Donne’s placid unconcern and contrasted against Matthew’s gravity. Elias did his best to match the tone of the others who, now that they had accepted the strange situation, seemed curious for more details.

  Edith no longer looked tired and was in wondrous spirits, a sight as sweet to Elias as it was bitter. He couldn’t help smiling when she smiled, even if he suspected her good mood was a result of her relief at not being obliged to marry him. So captivating was she in such spirits that he found himself letting pass the various jabs she took at him, followed as they always were with a twinkling glance.

  “What is this?” Solomon turned in his seat to face Elias after one such provoking comment. “No rebuttals or objections from you? Has Edith crushed your spirit, then?”

  Elias chuckled, trying to remember how to spar as everyone expected him to. “Far from it. I am merely allowing her enough rope to hang herself. Once she takes a breath, I intend to put forward the accurate version of events.”

  Everyone chuckled, and Edith leveled him a glance full of pretended ferocity.

  “And how would you describe it if not bursting into a room, fairly singing ‘Mrs. Cherriman’ at the top of your lungs?”

  He dabbed his mouth with his napkin and cleared his throat, taking up the gauntlet with as much gusto as he could muster. “Firstly, it was your idea to assume the guise of Mr. and Mrs. Cherriman. I was more than happy to act as a brother. Secondly, I believe you had your revenge upon me when you informed the inn that I snored”—he cleared his throat again—”as loudly as thunder, I believe you said.”

  Mercy’s head whipped around to verify the claim, and Edith let out a scoffing laugh. “After which you informed the same audience how much my knees bother me on the stairs, as though I were three-and-sixty instead of three-and-twenty!”

  Elias covered his laugh with a hand, remembering the way her eyes had sworn revenge at the time.

  “Who were these people being treated to such a spectacle?” Mr. Kennett asked. “And what did they make of you? I admit to having a difficult time believing that you could convince anyone into believing you married—at least not happily so.”

  Elias reached for his drink, frustrated at how the comment nicked his heart. Everyone was so certain that he could never make Edith happy.

  “Yes,” Viola said, scooping up a spoonful of peas, “how fortunate that you didn’t happen upon someone of your acquaintance.”

  Edith’s eyes shot to Elias, and he watched her knuckles whiten gripping her fork. Her smile became more strained. “Yes, well, there was a method to the madness when I selected the inn, for everyone prefers The George to The Old Dog and Pheasant.”

  “Not everyone,” Mrs. Donne said. “I believe John Stratton frequents The Old Dog often enough that he has horses stabled there.”

  There was a pause.

  Edith reached for her drink. “I’m sure I couldn’t say. Enough about that, though. What has been happening here for the last two days?”

  While she managed to steer the conversation clear of Mr. Stratton or the inn, Edith’s good humor was less genuine for the duration of the meal. When the women rose to retire to the drawing room, she caught Elias’s eye, no doubt wondering how he and Matthew would fare drinking port together given Matthew’s temper—and swollen lip.

  “I’ll join you in the drawing room,” Matthew said, rising along with the women. He didn’t even look at Elias, instead stepping in with Viola as she left the room.

  Edith came up to Elias, leaning in so that he had to stop breathing to avoid the vanilla that followed her everywhere. “You mustn’t mind Matthew. I will see to him. He has taken it all as a personal affront, but he is too good-humored by nature to hold a grudge for long.”

  Elias stared at the doorway Mrs. Donne was passing through. “Perhaps. I can’t say that I would blame him if he did, though.”

  Mrs. Donne glanced over her shoulder, her eyes lingering on them for a moment and Edith seemed to notice and took Elias’s unoffered arm, tugging him forward. What was that about?

  “What do you mean you wouldn’t blame him?” Edith asked. “I find his behavior today to be entirely ridiculous, though I must admit that your hitting him was hardly any better.”

  He let out a soft chuckle. “No, you don’t seem to be someone who appreciates chivalry overmuch.”

  “No,” she admitted. “I think chivalry is usually male conceit masquerading as concern for female weakness. I don’t see how I can be expected to feel gratitude for such a thing.”

  Elias pulled back slightly, bringing them to a stop. “You think I hit your brother for my own benefit?”

  She sent him a skeptical look. “You tell me.”

  He looked down at her and frowned. “It is hardly a wonder you are so resistant to the idea of marriage if that is your concept of men and chivalry.”

  She shrugged. “I find that people’s motivations are rarely as pure as they try to make them seem.”

  He smiled wryly. “Do you include yourself in that, or do you refer exclusively to mere mortals like myself?”

  There was no smile as she gazed back at him. “Of course I include myself in it.”

  Elias had no teasing response, only questions and more questions. The more he came to know Edith, the more it became apparent to him that her wit and skepticism hid hurt. She didn’t need a brother like Matthew, striving to protect her; she had built more than enough walls around herself for that.

  She was a stone castle on a cliff, her imposing façade urging the retreat of passers-by, promising their defeat should they dare to venture closer. But Elias was more and more certain that, inside those commanding walls, she concealed beauty and quiet strength, gardens and labyrinths to inspire wonder and awe in whatever person was fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of them or walk their paths.

  Elias wanted nothing more than to explore it all, to understand Edith so he could love her as she deserved.

  But she seemed to see every man as the enemy. She seemed to see herself as the enemy. And Elias hadn’t the first idea how to change her mind.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Edith’s mother intercepted her as she walked through the door of the drawing room, directing an evaluative gaze at her. Edith had to stifle the desire to squirm under her mother’s shrewd eye. She hadn’t yet spoken to her directly since she and Elias had returned, and she wasn’t precisely looking forward to it.

  “So, you are home again,” her mother said, stating the obvious in a way that gave Edith the impression it was a disappointment.

  Edith nodded, summoning her most nonchalant smile. “Of course. Where else should I be?”

  Her mother’s eyes roved toward Elias, who was in conversation with Mr. Kennett on the other side of the room. “I admit to a hope that you had taken our last conversation to heart.”

  Edith felt a flash of annoyance at the heat building in her cheeks as she remembered her mother’s words, her unabashed argument for Edith’s marrying a man her mother viewed as tractable—a man to be molded according to Edith’s pleasure. “You think me so capricious that I would have such a sudden change of heart and mind? That I should suddenly wish to marry?”


  Her mother shrugged. She seemed ready to leave the subject alone, but Edith was too bothered. Her mother had prodded the beast, and she couldn’t merely expect it to fall back asleep.

  “Never have I exhibited the least inclination to marry; never have I wavered in my determination to remain single. Why would you ever assume that I should so abruptly go against my own words?”

  Her mother said nothing. She merely surveyed the room under her placid gaze, goading Edith even more, provoking her with the need to defend herself against her mother’s silent skepticism. Her poise could be maddening at times.

  “I assure you nothing would have induced me to leave if I had known that we would not have Matthew on our heels—at the very least.”

  Her mother gave a soft laugh, still not looking at her. “And you might have had I not persuaded him to leave things well alone.”

  “What?” Edith stared.

  Her mother’s gaze finally turned to meet hers, the slightest raised brow and tip to her lips.

  Edith shook her head. “It was the weather that prevented his coming after us.”

  “Was it, now?” There was no mistaking the false curiosity in her tone.

  Edith was feeling out of all patience with her mother’s cryptic behavior. “Was it not?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Of course, the weather would certainly have been an inconvenience, but he was quite determined to go after the two of you despite that.”

  “And you stopped him? Why would you do that?”

  “Out of curiosity, I suppose.” Her mother put out a hand and inspected her neat nails. “When Matthew told me of the” —she paused, letting her hand drop into her lap— “intimacy he witnessed between you and Elias, I was convinced that we would do better to let you two sort things out between you.”

  Edith scoffed. “The intimacy he witnessed? An intimacy contrived entirely for his benefit—enough to throw him off the scent of our ruse, for he should never have come after us if he hadn’t believed us to truly be eloping.”