Chapter Twenty-Seven
The last thing Edward expected when he first arrived in London that spring was that he would be paying calls to his fiancée's household more than a month later, still a single man. Yet here he was, and very far from either the happy groom or reluctant suitor.
Edward could not deny that he dreaded the reception he would receive at the Stirling house. He did not know whether he was arriving to good news or bad.
If good, he would be a welcome guest, the hero of the hour.
If bad...
He only wished he could not imagine so clearly the pain and misery of the Stirling family if the news were bad. He knew all too well what followed when love was not enough to keep an adored sister and daughter from harm.
The door was answered promptly by Hinchley, whose face was, as ever, completely unreadable.
"I am come for news of Miss Stirling," said Edward, unable to wait.
The butler's brows knitted. "Miss Stirling is not At Home to visitors, Your Grace."
Edward's knees buckled with relief. "Then she is recovering?"
The butler sniffed, clearly finding it most irregular that a guest of such distinction should discuss family matters with the staff. "Please follow me to the drawing room, Your Grace. I'm sure a member of the household will be with you directly."
Edward was sure he would wear a hole through Mrs Stirling's fashionable Axminster carpet, so restlessly did he pace from one end of the drawing room to the other. His fingers fastened around his silver watch so tightly it hurt.
"Is she well?" he asked, on hearing someone enter the room, before he even turned to see that it was Angelica.
"She is well," she answered breathlessly, and ran into his arms.
Edward buried his face in Angelica's thick golden hair, breathing in the scent of it, revelling in its warmth. His entire body relaxed the moment she touched him. He felt as though he could happily drown in her embrace. The world around them had shrunk to no more than the space of his arms around her, and it was enough. More than enough.
"You are more than I ever deserved," he murmured into her ear. "When I thought I might lose you, I..."
"Don't speak of it," said Angelica, raising her head and pressing her lips to his. Between kisses, she continued, "We will never speak of it again. We will never think of it again. You saved me – you saved Lily – and it is over."
He stopped her words with a deep kiss that sent a shock of electricity running through his body. There was something about holding Angelica that was like standing in the middle of a storm, waiting to be struck by lightning. He both embraced the thunder and thought it powerful enough to end him.
"We must marry without delay," Angelica whispered, as they pulled apart. "I cannot wait to be yours any longer."
He pressed a finger to her lips. "We will not do anything of the kind. Under no circumstances will I wed you unless your sister is well enough to stand at your side."
"Oh, Edward," sighed Angelica. Her eyes brightened; he was shocked to see that she was almost crying. "You are too good for me, do you know that? You are so thoughtful where I am rash, so steady where I am reckless! I think refusing to marry me is possibly the most romantic thing you could possibly have done." She blinked the tears away, a little of her usual spark returning. "But I find I must refuse your refusal. Lily will be mortified if we wait any longer on her account. I must ask you – no, I positively demand – that you obtain a special licence so that we may marry here in this house. Lily will be there, sure enough. She can watch from the sofa in perfect comfort."
"You demand?" Edward repeated, raising an amused eyebrow. Angelica tilted her chin upwards defiantly.
"I insist!"
"Then how can I possibly deny you?"
They kissed without any regard for the fact that they were as yet unwed, nor for the risk of being discovered by any of the servants whose duties might bring them to the drawing room, nor for the looming approach of Mrs Stirling who prudently never left her daughter alone with him for too long. Edward felt every misgiving dissolve under the assault of affection from Angelica's lips. She had made a quick study of the art of love; she had already become an expert at kissing him exactly the way he liked to be kissed. He felt unnaturally weak in places, and strong as a king in certain others.
When Mrs Stirling appeared, as she inevitably did, she found two flushed and happy lovers sitting on opposite ends of the sofa, making a great display of their perfect innocence. Edward did his best to engage his future mother-in-law in polite chatter, but he was grateful that he had no reputation to maintain as a brilliant conversationalist.
How could anyone talk of the weather, of the theatre, of each other's health, of anything at all, when Angelica sat nearby, thrilling his very bones with her presence?
He felt as giddy as a young man in the first throes of love. For the first time, he wore the past ten years as lightly as if they had not hurt him at all. It was a wonder.
Edward was gladder than he could express that she had refused to postpone their wedding. If Edward could not have Angelica all to himself, and quickly, he was quite certain he'd go mad.