Chapter Eight
Edward had never predicted that wooing a woman who had already agreed to be his wife would take up so much of his time. Not only was he required to pay visits almost daily to her and her family, it was also, apparently, the done thing to parade her about on his arm in public, like a prize bird he'd just felled in the hunt.
The number of invitations to balls, parties, soirees, and other social inconveniences had swelled to an unconscionable level. People had taken to calling on him at all hours of the afternoon. Some had even been brave enough to stop and greet him in the street.
He had lived under the shadow of cruel rumours for so long that he had not dreamed his life would become even more difficult once his foul reputation was eased. How any man managed to endure London society for more than a matter of weeks was beyond him.
"Enough," he growled, when the Earl of Lathkill stopped by his house the week after the trip to the theatre. "Enough! If you have come to drag me out on another blasted social engagement, Lathkill..."
Frederick stood in the doorway and twirled his hat between his fingers. He was uncharacteristically sombre. That was enough to drag Edward's attention from the woes of the past week. "What is it?"
"Bad news, old chap," said Frederick softly. He laid a hand on Edward's shoulder. "I came as soon as I heard. I thought you'd like to know before... Well, I thought you'd like to hear it from a friend."
"Something has happened to Miss Stirling," Edward surmised immediately. His thoughts flew to the way she'd looked on his last morning call: pert and pretty in a blue dress – she eschewed the pastels and whites of traditional debutantes, and he was glad of it – and altogether far too smart-mouthed for his comfort. The thought of any harm befalling her struck him more deeply than he would have imagined.
"Oh, nothing like that, Thorne." Frederick shot him a sideways glance. "Anyone would think you'd started to care for the girl."
"It was a natural assumption, Lathkill. Miss Stirling is the only person in London who concerns me."
"Sadly, that's no longer the case. It's that Barnet fellow. Lord Oliver."
Edward froze. "He's in Bath. Taking the waters. I made enquiries before I came. The London air is bad for his health. Bad for anybody's health, at that."
"He returned from Bath the day before yesterday. He is most certainly in town, Thorne." Frederick waited, wincing, for Edward's reaction. Edward refused to give him the satisfaction of an outburst.
"There is only one reason for him to return," he said, his voice soft and dangerously low. "He wishes to make trouble for me."
"Oh, I very much doubt –"
"Why else would he risk his health by coming back to London? He's heard that I'm here and he wants to wreak his revenge. Well, I won't keep him waiting. Where is he staying? I'll pay a visit directly."
"You will do no such thing!"
Edward turned to Frederick with menace in his eyes. "Have you forgotten who you're speaking to, Lathkill? I'll do exactly as I please."
Frederick sat down in a nearby armchair with a thump. "Honestly, Thorne, it will do you no good at all to go. Avoid him, that's my advice. Why go looking for trouble?"
"I am not of a mind to wait idly by while trouble comes to find me."
"It won't find you. It won't. I can't imagine why Lord Oliver would want to see you again, and I can imagine even less how he'd find a way to hurt you now."
A ten-year-old memory flashed across Edward's mind. The flash of light on his pistol. The sound of a gunshot. And, later, Adelaide's cries. "You may be right, Lathkill. He cannot possibly wound me any more than he has done already."
"And he has paid for it," Frederick reminded him. "He has paid his debt of honour."
"Do you think his years of suffering wipe out the loss of my sister's life?" Edward snarled. His hands clenched into fists and, before he knew it, he had driven his right hand into the wall. The wood panelling bent and warped beneath it.
"Thorne!" Frederick rushed over and seized him by the arm to stop him doing any more damage. "You maimed the man for life, isn't that enough? What will pay the debt, if not that? His death? What, am I to believe what people say about you? The murderous Duke of Redhaven – do you want to prove them right?"
Edward let his friend lead him to a chair and pour him a glass of brandy. "None of that," he protested, pushing it away.
"It will calm your nerves, Thorne."
Edward glared at Frederick, but took a sip nonetheless. "I have an engagement to attend. A walk through Hyde Park with Miss Stirling."
"Quite the dashing young buck you've become," said Frederick, risking a smile. "Well, you can rest assured that Lord Oliver will not be walking through the park. If he is there, he'll be in a carriage, and you can watch him drive by without any need to acknowledge him at all."
"I don't trust myself, Lathkill," said Edward, looking at the bruise forming on his knuckles. "If I see that man, I can't vouch for what I'll do."
"I'll come with you," Frederick promised him. "I'll wrestle you to the ground if I need to. Anything to keep Miss Stirling from witnessing a scene."
Edward downed the rest of his brandy in a single gulp. "You are a good friend, Lathkill."
"I'm your only friend, Thorne."
Edward answered him with a grudging nod. He had to admit that Frederick was right.
Hyde Park was as leafy and pleasant as it always was when the sun was shining. It wasn't much compared to the forest surrounding Redhaven Castle, but it at least relieved the sense of claustrophobia Edward always suffered in the city. Angelica was waiting for him in their agreed place, chaperoned by a lady's maid who seemed to have a permanent expression of disapproval on her face. If Edward had been of a mind to take advantage of Angelica's virtue, the stern-faced lady's maid would certainly have been enough to dissuade him.
To his surprise, the maid was not Angelica's only companion. Another young lady was with her, a girl who shared Angelica's heart-shaped face and turned-up nose but lacked her expression of mischief and the roses in her cheeks.
"My sister," said Angelica. "Miss Lily Stirling. My older sister, Your Grace, so you must treat her with respect. It was most impudent of you to propose to me while Lily remains unattached, you know."
Edward kissed Lily's hand. "What an unexpected pleasure."
He was not exactly telling the truth. He knew how close Angelica was to Lily, and he'd known he would soon meet her, but seeing them together, watching their laughter and their play at sibling rivalry, touched on parts of his heart that were still tender from their decade-old wounds.
"Miss Stirling," said Frederick, with his customary beaming smile. "If it's not too bold to say, I am delighted to see you up and about again." Of course, Frederick was already acquainted with Lily Stirling. Frederick was acquainted with everybody.
"Thank you, Lord Lathkill," said Lily, taking his arm. "I find myself in very good health today."
"Let us hope that it continues."
Whether it was Lily's weakness, or a conspiracy between her and Frederick, Edward did not know, but he soon found that he and Angelica had far outpaced their companions. Even the stern lady's maid had fallen behind to give them a little privacy.
"It's such a glorious day!" sighed Angelica, turning her face up to the sky. "I do declare I like nothing more than being out of doors."
"You like a great many things," Edward remarked. "Each of them, allegedly, more than all the others."
Angelica laughed. "It is not a sin to take pleasure in life, Your Grace."
"I did not mean to censure you for it. Rather, I envy you." Edward wondered how Angelica would like the grounds at Redhaven Castle. A pleasant image formed in his mind, of his little wife coming home from a vigorous ride through the woods with flushed cheeks and bright eyes.
"Envy me?" Angelica, perhaps unconsciously, had risen up on the balls of her feet as she walked, so that she could talk to him on a more equal footing. "The great Duke of Redhaven envies me?"
"There is nothing great about me, Miss Stirling."
"On the contrary, Your Grace. You are a Duke, and I am only a Miss!"
"Titles are not so very important. You will understand when you have one."
"Ah, yes." Angelica grew pensive. "I am to be a Duchess."
"You are, indeed."
She shot him a sly glance. "What am I to call you, when I am a Duchess? Do Dukes and Duchesses call each other Your Grace? It seems so stuffy!"
"You may call me what you wish, Miss Stirling."
"What do your friends call you?"
"Lathkill calls me Thorne."
Angelica's nose crinkled as she considered this. "Thorne is such a strong name. Strong, and cold. I would prefer something warmer. I would prefer to call you Edward. If no-one else calls you Edward, all the better. It would be something just for me."
"Just for you," Edward repeated, taking her hand and placing it on his arm. "Very well. And what shall I call you, Miss Stirling?"
"Why, Edward, when I am Duchess of Redhaven, you may only address me as Your Grace. You see, I have not had the opportunity of being a Your Grace before. I mean to make the most of it."
To Edward's astonishment, he felt a small smile begin to tug at his lips. If you had asked him an hour earlier whether anything would be sufficient to raise his spirits after the news of Lord Oliver's arrival in London, his answer would have been no. But here was the indomitable Miss Angelica Stirling, forcing him to smile whether he wanted to or not.
"I don't think so, Angelica," he murmured. "You have such a pretty name, it would be a shame to waste it."
Angelica met his eyes with a look of astonishment. Had he been too familiar, too quickly? She was a person who invited familiarity, after all. Edward felt his own deficiencies more painfully than ever. Angelica was right. He was strong, but cold. And she was warm and lovely.
"Edward..." she began. A gale of laughter from behind them interrupted her. Her gaze darted back to her sister, full of concern. "I do wish Lord Lathkill would take care. He ought not to make her laugh so. If she should have a fit of breathlessness, here in the park..."
"She looks well enough to me."
Angelica sighed. "She always looks well – until she isn't."
"Should we turn back?"
An unreadable expression flashed across Angelica's face. It passed so quickly that Edward couldn't tell whether it was disappointment or relief. "That would be wise, Your Grace."
"Edward," he corrected her. Angelica smiled.
"Edward. Yes, let's turn back. But walk slowly. I don't want Lily to know I'm worried about her."
"Your concern for your sister does you great credit, Angelica."
"It's only natural. If you knew how she has suffered... But let us not speak of that. Dark thoughts are not fit for the sunshine and the open air. Edward, you promised me that you were going to read some Shakespeare. Have you had any opportunity? I could recommend you a sonnet or two, but I am not convinced that love poetry will move you the way it ought to. I expect you will like the tragedies better. And you won't even know what you're missing!"
"You are a blessing in a dark world," said Edward, smiling again. Who could not be pleased by Angelica's facility in turning from a painful topic to a pleasant one? He tucked her hand more tightly under his arm. She looked at him shyly, surprised by the compliment. He was surprised at himself. It was not like him to speak so gently to anyone.
"Tell me about the sonnets," he said, when the silence became too awkward to bear. Angelica cleared her throat.
"I will do one better. I will recite some to you. Now, pay close attention. That time of year thou mayst in me behold..."
Unconsciously, their steps slowed in tandem to match the rhythm of the poetry. Edward stole a glance at his bright-eyed young fiancée.
She was talkative, yes. Infernally talkative. She was young and naïve in many ways. She was strong-willed, a little too lively, a little too prone to speaking her mind.
And yet...
Without even realising it, Edward had begun to think that his choice of bride might not have been such a mistake after all.