Bridal Favors - Engaged in Wickedness (12 page)

"Bold words from someone I have just met." Lord Redhill leaned even further back in his chair, but Edward did not make the mistake of thinking the man relaxed. If anything, his eyes were more piercing than before. "Why did you not apply to my father? That is the usual way of things when asking for a lady's hand."

"I am not asking you for her hand. Only she can give me that. I am asking for your blessing."

Lord Redhill snorted. "As to that, Gwen will do as she wants with or without my blessing."

"You underestimate your value to her."

"And you have not answered my question. Why aren't you speaking with my father right now?"

"Because if I see him, I might very well punch him in the face." It was an honest answer, but a risky one as well. Fortunately, the gamble paid off. Lord Redhill burst out laughing.

"Well, I can see we are of the same mind on that at least." Then he released a loud sigh. "Very well, Sir Edward Murray."

Edward frowned. It sounded as if he were being dismissed, but he didn't quite understand if he'd accomplished his mission or not. "My lord?"

"I said, very well. That means I shall make inquiries as to your background and broach the subject with my sister. If everything is how it should be, then you have my blessing. Though damned if I can see how you did it."

"Did what, my lord?"

"Caught her eye. You're not her usual sort."

He shrugged. "I'm not anyone's usual sort."

They paused a moment, sharing a long moment of growing respect. And in the silence, the butler knocked twice before entering with a tea tray. Edward could tell from the smell that it was a strong brew and his hand actually twitched with the need for it. Matching wits with Gwen at night and her brother in the morning was difficult work. He needed all the strength he could find.

"Go on," muttered Lord Redhill. "He has brought us tea, so you might as well sit and drink it."

Not the most generous invitation, but Edward took it gratefully. He settled down into a chair and soon both he and Lord Redhill were sipping an excellent brew. They talked for a half hour more, the topics general, the conversation genial. Edward's estimation of Lord Redhill grew with every exchange and he could only pray that the man felt the same way about him. Naturally, the man gave no clue as to his real thoughts. That would be reserved for after the financial inquiries were satisfied, as was perfectly appropriate.

But by the time Edward stood to leave, he was well satisfied with his progress. Until the very last moment, that is. He was just reaching for the library door when Lord Redhill spoke.

"One more thing, Sir Edward."

Edward paused and looked back.

"I intend to have the ivy stripped from the walls this very day. Then I shall put bars on my sister's window and broken glass on the sill."

Edward felt his eyebrows raise. "That sounds somewhat excessive."

"One learns with my sister that she was a woman of extremes. It is important to keep up."

"Really?" Edward drawled. "I have not known her to be inconstant in her moods."

Lord Redhill snorted. "Then you obviously haven't known her very long or very well. She is often happy one day, angry the next. In love one week, filled with hatred the very next."

"Ah," Edward said slowly. "I see that Gwen was right about you."

Lord Redhill blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"She said you don't see her. Not clearly. Not since she was about fourteen."

The man's mouth dropped open in surprise. He was obviously at a loss for a response.

"But even so, she loves you to distraction," Edward continued. "It would devastate her if you did not approve of me."

Lord Redhill pushed to his full height. Not quite as tall as Edward, but he had a width and a power to his frame that could not be denied. "Then you'd best make sure you do not cross me."

Edward took the warning with a bow. "Learning how not to cross you, your parents, or Gwen is going to be quite the challenge."

"Are you up to it, boy?"

"No," he said honestly. "So it is good that I only have to please Gwen. And I think she is the one who will make the rest of you fall in line."

"She might at that," Lord Redhill said dryly. "Oh listen. I believe that is her dainty tread I hear stomping down the hallway this very moment."

Edward spun around. It was fortunate that he was light on his feet. He jumped back from the door just as Gwen was throwing it wide. She looked fresh and beautiful this morning for all that her hair was hastily pinned back and her gown still wrinkled from the wardrobe.

"Just what the devil do you think you're doing?" she demanded. She had spoken to the room at large, but her glare quickly landed on Edward.

"I was—" he began, but her brother interrupted.

"We were doing what men do, sister dear. Drinking tea, talking horseflesh, and deciding your future."

"How dare you!" she huffed as she headed for her brother. Edward barely had time to grab her arm and hold her back.

"He is baiting you, Gwen. Surely you can see that."

"Of course he is baiting me!" she snapped as she whirled on him. "It's what he always does! He used to glue my dolls to the floor and set the dogs on them. Said he was testing out a new formula for glue. He's a tyrant and a boor—"

"So why do you rise to his bait? Why do you play the child with him when we both know you are a woman grown?"

She stopped, her mouth open and her eyes snapping with indignation. But she didn't speak. And in that moment of silence, he was able to press his point.

"If you want him to see you—really see you—then you must let him know who you are inside."

He watched that information slip into her mind. She didn't respond to it. It was too soon. She would most likely file it away to think on later. But that didn't stop her from continuing her attack. "Why are you here?" she demanded.

"I was informing your brother of my intention to wed you."

"What!" she cried. "Of all the nerve!"

He frowned at her, his mind working furiously as he tried to cut off a potential hailstorm of feminine indignation. "You are surprised by my actions?"

"Yes! I mean, no! Of course not!" She huffed. "You need to ask me, Edward. Not him!"

"Are you ready for me to ask?" he challenged. "Shall I go down on one knee now? Do you wish to see a ring?"

"No!" she gasped, panic in her eyes. "God, no! Not now!" She was thoroughly upset and her hands were raised as if to ward him off. "Edward, what are you thinking?" she whispered.

It took him a moment to respond. He had not expected her to react so vehemently and the pain of that took him by surprise. But he was a man, and so he kept his expression bland and his tone even. It was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

"I think that I have overstayed my welcome." He executed a passable bow to both of them. "If you will excuse me, I shall show myself out."

"Edward, wait!" she cried, taking a step after him.

But he couldn't stop. Not just yet. Not for perhaps a very long while.

Chapter 10

Edward didn't take her riding that afternoon. Gwen wasn't really surprised when his note arrived explaining that he would not be able to make their scheduled appointment. She wasn't surprised, but she was horribly disappointed. And she didn't see him that night at the ball either.

In the end, she went home early, hoping he'd visit her that night. They could talk then, and she could apologize for turning down his marriage proposal so vehemently. She still didn't know what had happened. He had caught her off guard, though Heaven knew she shouldn't have been. He'd told her already that his honor demanded that he marry her. Even if he hadn't said it, she knew that he was the kind of man who proposed. If he weren't, she'd already be compromised and he'd have moved on to his next conquest.

But she wasn't and he hadn't and her thoughts were so tortured now that she could only throw open her window and pray that he was waiting for her there.

He wasn't. And even worse, sometime during the day, all the ivy had been stripped from the house. She stared at the denuded stone in dismay wondering if she could somehow discretely hide a ladder or act like Rapunzel and throw down her hair. She couldn't, of course, so she sat at her window and waited, thinking if nothing else that she could run outside and they could talk there.

But he didn't come, and she ended up falling asleep by her window and having terrible dreams involving ladders and trolls that looked like her brother and a prince who rode right by without even noticing she was there. She woke with a gasp and was actually grateful when her mother called. Mama had slept the day through and now needed to use the necessary. It was a good sign that the woman was interested in performing these basic functions, albeit with help. It gave Gwen hope that this part of the cycle would pass quickly.

She spent the rest of the night with her mother, trying to regale her with news of the Season. The woman showed no signs of interest, but would grow restless when Gwen wasn't there. So Gwen chattered about her efforts to find Debra a husband.

At least that part of the Season was going well. Gwen had steered Debra to a group of bluestocking women who in turn had a few academically minded gentlemen in their midst. Sure enough, one young man had shown a particular interest; and within a week, love had blossomed. Debra was well on her way to wed, and Gwen would soon lose another friend to matrimony. And it would be a true loss since neither Debra nor her suitor enjoyed London. They would marry and retire to the country, and soon the children would start coming. It would be the rare event indeed that would bring Debra back into Gwen's circle.

But that was the way with friends for Gwen. Here for a time, then married and gone. Only she remained, sitting beside her mother's bed and chattering gossip until her throat was dry and her head ached abominably. And yet, still she continued talking.

It was the early hours of the morning when Gwen's store of nonsense gave out. She ended up staring at her mother who was lying in bed, staring at nothing. Was this Gwen's future too? As everyone else married and moved on, would Gwen end up alone in a bed staring at nothing?

Certainly her health wasn't as delicate as her mother's, but sometimes—oftentimes lately—the endless rounds of parties felt no more substantial than sitting at home. What did it matter that Lord Bantham had lost all his money at faro? Or that Miss Hubbert had danced three times with Mr. Barr
and
three times with Mr. Williams? None of it mattered in the slightest.

That was why she had thrown herself into kissing. In the silence of her mother's room, she could confess the truth to herself. Her wildness was simply a way to prove to herself that she would not become her mother. Except, of course, that kissing gentlemen she cared nothing about was no more substantial than gossiping about people she had no interest in or reading a book about people who didn't exist. They were all ways to pass the time—an eternity of time—with no more substance than that. An empty way to fill the empty ticking of the clock. And that was her life.

She didn't even realize she was crying until a male hand offered her his handkerchief.

She gaped and looked up, dismayed to see that it wasn't Edward, and that made her cry even harder. It was her brother, Robert, and he didn't say a word. Just steadily wiped away her tears until she had enough control to take the linen away from him and blow her nose like the silly goose she was.

"She'll get better, Gwen. She always does."

"Yes, and then she'll get worse again. She always does."

He had no answer to that except to pull over a chair and sit beside her. "Perhaps it will be better at the new property. The sale should go through soon and then we can begin interviewing nurses."

"She doesn't like new people. You know that."

"Neither can we sacrifice our own lives to sit by her bedside day and night."

"It's not that bad," she said softly, even though they both knew she lied. Even at the best of times when Mama was laughing and would talk about stepping outdoors, Gwen spent all her days watching for and dreading the moment when the despair returned.

Robert eased a hand around her shoulders and pulled her tight. "I'll find a way to make it better. I swear."

"You can't make that promise." And when he would have argued with her, she shook her head. "And besides, that wasn't what I was crying about."

He pulled back to look at her face. Then he abruptly stood up and shifted his chair such that he faced her directly.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Your Baronet said that you said that I don't see you. Well, I am doing it now. I am forcing myself to see you."

She gaped at him. "You want to see me now? At three in the morning when my face is all mottled from tears?"

He shrugged as he sat back down. "Can you think of a better time?"

She couldn't. And besides, she was too grateful that he was here to argue. But then the silence stretched between them. She felt awkward, and she could tell he felt the same.