“Do tell,” the duke said, his face was alight with laughter.
“Which time?” Emily inquired.
Edmund recalled they had all stripped down to their small clothes for various reasons and at numerous times as children, unbeknownst to their parents. Most often for a summer swim in Lake Brakenbrush. Of course, things were different now, and the pastime seemed far less innocent when viewed with adult eyes. Anne blushed delightfully. Did she feel the same about those times?
“I was thinking of the time a young boy nobly took a bath in order to rescue my doll. You were quite the hero.” Anne said, her eyes were shining as she remembered.
Edmund wondered if he was still her hero, or if that spot had been taken by Amberleigh. He could not help but scowl at the thought.
“Do not glower so,” Anne admonished. “The story is not so bad.” Anne warmed to the tale, speaking to Alexander and Emily.
It was almost like old times except when she glanced at Edmund. Her eyes darted away. When had she become so shy? When had she stopped looking at him directly? He wondered. Now she was stealing shy glances at him as he became increasingly uncomfortable.
“I dropped the doll and Edmund went to fetch it for me,” she explained.
“You dropped it?” Emily said. “As I remember you told your mother that Edmund threw it in the stream.”
“Well, he might as well have,” Anne said primly. “He was tickling me. That is why I dropped it in the first place.”
Edmund looked at Anne, wishing he could tickle her now. He wanted to see her flushed and breathless with laughter and excitement. The thought brought a stirring of desire despite the abundance of drink in his system. Something in his eyes must have betrayed the direction of his thoughts to Anne because when she looked at him, she blushed scarlet. Edmund thought he had never seen her look more beautiful.
“So you jumped in the water to save a doll?” Emily said clarifying. She looked at her brother with wide eyes.
“Not quite,” Edmund corrected her, remembering the story all too well. “I lay on the footbridge and extended my reach for it. I was hanging over the edge of the bridge, my waist and legs holding me in place as I reached.” He turned to Anne with a huff. “I do remember a delicate pair of hands on my ankles.” To Alex he added, “I had thought she was holding me in place, as I had apologized for making her drop it, and I was trying to attempt a rescue. I did not expect her to suddenly let go. Though if you ask me there might have been a push involved to set me in motion properly.”
The duke began to chuckle. Emily picked up the laughter. “You threw him in, Anne? And him a head taller than you.”
Anne’s blush deepened considerably. “I am afraid I did. Feet over head. I think he actually spun once on the way down.” She laughed then, with a joyous lack of restraint. The firelight danced in her hair as she tossed back her head and shook with merriment. Edmund did not care one bit that it was at his expense. For her happiness he would suffer a great deal more embarrassment.
“How old were you?” The duke asked, his eyes twinkling in amusement.
“I was nine,” Edmund muttered somewhat distractedly. “Anne was very high-spirited at that age.”
“I still am,” she said, eyes alight.
“I just bet you are.” Edmund said and suddenly there as a pulsating heat between them.
Anne’s eyes darkened and she licked her lips. For just an instant, the soft pink flesh was trapped between her teeth, and Edmund was undone. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to claim her mouth with his own and drink in the sweet taste of her. He was unaware of his sister still talking. He shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to still his rampant desire.
“Wait.” Emily eyes were bright with unshed humor. “Was that when Father was so wroth with you for ruining your clothing? I seem to recall a statement to the effect of your new jacket not being fit for rags.”
Edmund shrugged. “Perhaps it could have been salvaged had I confessed at the first, but fearing reprimand, I hid the jacket. Once it was found, mildew had set in and the smell had worked its way into the weft. Father was most disappointed in me.”
“Oh.” Anne’s fingers covered her mouth, though she was still laughing. “I never knew that I caused you to be disciplined. I am so sorry.”
“Well,” Edmund said. “I managed to pay you back, I think, that midwinter. Or have you forgotten?”
“I’ve forgotten nothing,” she said softly.
Their eyes met and for a moment, he was at loss for words. The past story that he was about to share felt insignificant. He was enraptured by the present.
“Go on,” the duke urged. Alexander seemed to be enjoying himself, or perhaps it was his wife’s mirth that made him prod for more. His gaze slid over Emily, and he touched her hand, casually, intimately.
Never had Edmund seen a man smile at his lady with such delight. He envied his friend those simple touches. He felt a pang of longing for such an engaging intimacy of his own. Later, he reminded himself. When he was more settled. When he could be certain of the lady’s response.
“Yes, Edmund,” Emily pleaded, breaking into his thoughts and pulling him back to the conversation. “Do tell.” She clapped with her enthusiasm.
Edmund relaxed in his chair. He found himself enjoying the exchange all the more for such an enthusiastic audience.
He favored Anne with a look, pleased to see she was enjoying herself as well. He leaned in to talk, gesturing with his hands to emphasize parts of the story. “Do you remember how Uncle Cecil would close the west wing during the coldest months?”
Emily and Anne both nodded.
Of course she would. Anne had been such a frequent visitor at Sandstowe Hill, she knew its natural rhythms as well as any in residence would. “It was a natural place for two children to explore, not the least reason being that it was off-limits.” Anne covered her face now, as the recognition of where this particular story was going set in. “There was a great hearth in that wing and it was covered by a sheet, I imagine the sweeps were busy clearing it. But there was also a bellows thereby.”
“You are a devil. I say it now and will say it again, I am sure!” Anne chided, but she laughed at the memory all the same.
Edmund shrugged. “I had no idea that there was so much ash in a pair of bellows,” Edmund confessed to Emily’s sudden gasp.
“You did not!” She turned to Anne for confirmation.
“He did.” Anne waggled a finger at Edmund, but she was grinning wide. “My brand-new midwinter gown, complete with lace, covered in ash and soot!”
“It sounds like a fairly even match, then.” The duke chuckled. He caught his wife’s hand and smiled at her. “London has its charms, but I would not trade our years in Northwickshire for any price. That early acquaintance will color our relationships for life, though I daresay that covering a lady with soot is not a current goal, eh, Edmund?”
No. It was not. Anne’s laughter rolled over Edmund like a physical caress. The drink fueled the fire in his blood. He wanted to muss her with an entirely different purpose. The firelight made her hair shine like liquid gold. He wanted to free her hair from its style and bury both hands in the sweet golden waves. He wanted to take her in his arms and mold her soft form to his. He forced himself to breathe deeply and still the direction of his thoughts lest they become known.
This was not right. This was Anne. She was not some object to fuel his baser desires. And things could never be as they were. Edmund felt the easy camaraderie between them fading. Almost desperately he sought Anne’s eyes as the conversation swirled around them.
What story Emily told next he could not say. He was lost in the look of regret that passed between him and his childhood friend. The easy moment was lost as if it had never been and the empty feeling in the pit of his stomach yawned wider, as if intent on swallowing him whole.
7
Revisiting the past softened Edmund. Anne gazed at him wistfully. When he told the story, his eyes came
alive with passion. She saw the boy she had known before he’d come of age and everything had changed between them. She found herself sighing.
Alexander chuckled softly; his forehead nearly against Emily’s. Distracted as she was, Anne had no idea what the joke had been, but she found herself laughing anyway. She noted Alexander’s fingers playing along Emily’s arm, and the goose-flesh on her friend’s skin as Emily gazed adoringly at her husband. There was no denying the heat between them.
Anne looked away immediately, but caught Edmund’s smoldering gaze. There was no simple exchange to be found there and it brought her no relief. The heat in the room was almost palpable and Anne was sure it was not the dying fire. For lack of something better to do Anne drained the rest of her sherry and sat the glass on the side table with a sharp clink.
Emily was brought from her musings to look momentarily at her friend, but Anne did not think she had eyes for anyone but her husband.
The clock struck the hour and Emily yawned widely. “Oh,” she said. “I did not know it was so late. I do believe I should retire. The sherry seems to have gone to my head.” She waved a hand at Anne’s empty glass. “I’m sure, you must be tired too, Anne.”
“It is late,” Alexander added as he kissed his wife’s forehead. “I shall be up momentarily, my love,” he reluctantly let go of Emily’s hand and she headed towards the doorway.
“The servants will collect that in the morning,” Emily said gesturing to Anne’s empty glass.
“It was only one glass,” Anne muttered. They had often drunk more wine than that and talked well into the night or the wee hours of the morning when they were younger, but it seemed that Alexander and Emily were hinting that they too should retire. It was a broad hint, and Anne knew she should take it, but she did not want the evening to end.
“You are welcome to the blue room,” Alexander said to Edmund, confirming Anne’s suspicions. “You know where it is, Ed.” Alexander had followed his wife and now stood beside her with a hand on her waist. Anne could not help but notice the way Emily leaned in to her husband.
“Shall I call a maid to help you, Anne?” Emily offered from the doorway, but Anne shook her head.
“I can manage,” she said, knowing that she should also seek her bed. It was not seemly for her to remain with Edmund alone. Emily hesitated another moment giving Anne a stern look. “I shall seek my own room directly,” Anne promised and Emily nodded before she left the room.
Alexander followed Emily. His long strides took him from the room in haste that was almost unseemly, but entirely romantic. Anne and Edmund were left alone in a most untenable position. Anne was sure that both Emily and Alexander simply forgot that their unmarried friends should not sit in the same room unchaperoned especially at this time of the night, or perhaps, Emily was matchmaking.
It was entirely improper, but on the other hand, this was Edmund. They had spent countless hours alone together. She should not feel as if he were a suitor. He was not, although the butterflies in Anne’s stomach made her feel as if he should be. Anne and Edmund stared at each other self-consciously as they watched their friends leave.
“It has been months since their nuptials,” Edmund muttered to himself. “Yet they act as though it was their first night.”
“You do not think…” Anne spoke without thought. She broke off blushing. She would not talk about such a thing with Edmund or even think about it, but her mind spun imaginings without her leave. Perhaps if Edmund were her husband… She broke off that line of thinking abruptly. The thought was awkward, embarrassing and wonderful. Her blush deepened. “It hardly makes for polite conversation,” she muttered picking up her empty sherry glass for something to do with her hands.
Edmund grimaced at her words. “Polite conversation,” he huffed. “Next you will want to talk about the weather!”
“It has been unseasonably cool,” Anne said with mock seriousness. She attempted to maintain a reproachful expression, but could not. She burst into laughter.
He joined with a masculine chuckle that went to the heart of her.
“Oh Edmund when we were children, we could talk about anything!” the words burst out without her intending them.
“We aren’t children,” Edmund said, his voice unnaturally deep, his gaze intense and just like that, the ease that she had attempted to rebuild between them was lost again. Heat grew in its place fanned by the weight of his gaze and the forbidden knowledge of their married friends’ occupation upstairs.
Anne resisted the urge to glance at the ceiling. She cast about for anything she might say. She knew she should make her own excuses and retire. To sit alone with Edmund like this was most improper, but she found she did not wish to leave. She did not want their time together to end. They had precious little of it this Season. The possible reason for that niggled at the back of Anne’s mind.
Was Edmund preoccupied by someone else? The thought that another woman could claim the bulk of his attention was nearly physically painful. In the next instant Anne admonished herself for feeling so. Edmund had made no statement of intention towards her. She could not be jealous. Edmund was not her suitor. But you wish he were, a traitorous voice in her head argued. Anne pushed the thought away. Still, she had to know. It would be better to know than to wonder. She cleared her throat, uncomfortable with the topic.
“So, tell me, Edmund? What has caught your attention so far this season? I hardly see you anymore.”
“I have been busy,” he said evasively.
Too busy to see me? Anne wondered.
She tried another tack. “I spoke with your mother at Northrup’s ball,” Anne ventured. “She seemed to expect you, but I did not see you there.” Anne did not say she waited until the end in the hopes that he would show his face.
“That is because I did not attend.”
Well, that was obvious. “So you had another engagement?” Anne pushed. “Are you courting someone in earnest then?” Saying the words was difficult, but she tried to keep her tone light.
“If the lady’s name is Parliament, I expect one could say I am courting her most earnestly indeed,” Edmund replied with a harsh laugh as he leaned back in his chair. “Although some would call her more demi-monde than damsel.”
“You have chosen a harsh mistress then,” Anne replied, somewhat put out that Edmund had avoided her question.
He snorted and shook his head.
“But surely there is someone you have your eye upon,” Anne persisted. “Some gently born female of tender years perhaps?”
“Tender years?” He stared at her aghast. “You would saddle me with a child still upon a leading string? Pray, have a higher opinion of me than that.”
Anne stood which necessitated Edmund’s standing. She paced away from him. She could not look at him while she spoke. The words were painful. “Someone who has been ‘out’ a while then?” she asked, rearranging her thoughts to mull over which ladies might be included upon such a list. If a lady held a fortune, it was not likely she would remain unwed beyond a Season or two. Those who remained in circulation usually did so with good reason, and Edmund, as the eldest son of a viscount, would not have to settle for a lady who was not possessed of good family and fortune. Anne could think of no one who would fulfill that requirement. “A love match perhaps? Or is she simply resistant to wed?”
“I am resistant to wed,” Edmund countered. “You must know, Anne, not everyone wishes to fall into the marriage mousetrap.”
“And you do not,” Anne said, clarifying.
“Certainly, not. I say men make absolute fools of themselves in pursuit of the nonsensical ritual.”
Anne’s back stiffened. “You think, then, a man who is courting in earnest is an object of ridicule? Why Lord Amberleigh…”
“Amberleigh,” Edmund interrupted with a sneer, and just like that, any camaraderie between them was thoroughly extinguished.
Anne knew she had made a mistake in bringing up the name, but now that it was done, sh
e could not help herself. “Why do you scoff?” She asked, putting her hands on her hips.
Edmund shook his head as if he could not believe his ears. “Well, we are speaking of objects of ridicule…” He laughed bitterly. “I would suggest your precious Lord Amberleigh is quite capable of becoming an object of ridicule without needing to court to do so.”
Anne blinked in surprise. “Lord Amberleigh? Why do you speak so ill of him?”
“He is courting you. Is he not?”
“And that makes him worthy of mockery?” Anne’s voice went up an octave with indignation. How dare Edmund suggest that courting her was a laughable occupation?
“Well, no, but…” Edmund shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. “Is he courting you?” Edmund demanded.
Anne sniffed. “I do not see how that is any of your concern.”
Edmund scoffed at her reply. “He is, then. I cannot imagine how you could entertain the thought. The man is the most self-important, slack-jawed jack-a-nape I have ever met.”
“What do you know of him?” Anne demanded sharply.
“I could ask you the same,” Edmund retorted. He fixed Anne with a penetrating gaze, and the heat in his eyes could have burnt her, it was so intense.
Anne swallowed attempting to gather her wits. Truly, she did not know Lord Amberleigh well, but he was everything she’d envisioned in a suitor, or at least, she thought she had at some point or other. Amberleigh was charming and very handsome. He was kind to her, after a fashion, and held both title and the ability to support her well. He was a lord and held a vast estate of his own. Still, she could not explain these things to Edmund. He would not understand, but these were the sorts of things that mattered in a good match. Not the foolish fluttering of her heart.
“I know that he is a gentleman,” she snapped. “And that is more than can be said of you.”
Edmund hissed through his teeth. “So you have fallen for his line then? His pompous act and his empty flattery? Is that what it takes to be a gentleman? Then, I am glad I have no part in it.”
The Viscount's Wayward Son: A Regency Romance (Ladies of the North Book 2) Page 8
