Chapter Seventeen
Everything in the room farther than five feet was a blur. I dodged the carelessly swung hand of one of Old Lady Gladstone’s well-wishing friends, narrowly avoiding a smack in the face. My back brushed the heavy emerald drape, secured with a gold-tasseled rope that dug into the small of my back. The stink of the old woman’s orange blossom perfume buffeted me as she threw her arms in the air to pat Edwin’s cheek. He flinched, but endured the contact with a thinly veiled expression of agony. Frankly, it was a miracle the woman’s magenta underdress, and damask-embroidered gauze overdress didn’t rip with her violent movements.
“It is so wonderful to be able to celebrate your engagement at last! I know your dear aunt was beginning to despair.”
I pressed my hand to my mouth, trying in vain to stifle a snort. Surreptitiously, Edwin nudged my foot with his, as if to say, play your part. Frankly, I was weary of always playing a part, even if I saw the sense in it this time. If Old Lady Gladstone knew we were at odds, the evening might not end happily.
The stifled sound drew the old woman’s attention to me. She pinched my cheek.
Ow, ow, ow…
“And you! Lady Gladstone is so pleased to welcome you to the family!”
I’ve always been a part of the family. I held my tongue and smiled as she released me. I rubbed my cheek, where a throb beat in time to the tidy quartet of musicians in the corner of the drawing room.
Old Lady Gladstone’s drawing room was as big as some people’s houses. The furniture, a mix-matched array of cushioned chairs borrowed from other rooms, lined the perimeter of the room, leaving the center free for mingling groups. And every member of the ton still in London must be crammed within the space, making it feel no bigger than a tinder box. The parlor across the hall held even more people.
The old woman scurried away, leaving room for the next group of well-wishers to approach. In this case, the Cravens. Although Edwin relaxed, the knotted muscles of my shoulders only tightened. Once again, I had to play the simpering, lovesick young miss. I’d known it would be challenging, but after what Edwin and I had shared…
Last night, without him, the bed had felt cold and empty. Waking up to an empty house, save for the click of Puck’s claws on the floor as he danced while waiting to be escorted outside, had felt like waking up to a nightmare. Why had Papa gone to work on the anniversary of Mama’s death? Despite the animals, the house felt cold and lifeless without him.
No, I couldn’t pretend. I’d noticed Edwin’s absence, too. I didn’t want to be alone any longer.
Annabel clasped Edwin’s arm with a smile and bussed the air to either side of his cheeks. She turned and did the same with me, her demeanor warm. “I’m so happy to be able to celebrate your engagement with you officially.”
It’s a lie.
Somehow, I kept the smile pinned on my face while I endured the same familiar treatment by Winifred. The men each pumped Edwin’s forearm and bowed over my hand in formal greeting.
“Thank you,” Edwin answered for us both. “We’re delighted you could make it tonight.”
I want to go home. Papa was here somewhere, mingling when we should be sharing that bottle of Mama’s favorite wine. Now wasn’t the time for happiness. In fact, simply standing next to him reminded me of our disagreement yesterday. Papa still thought me happy, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him otherwise. However, playing the part of joyful bride-to-be grated on me. For lengths of time, I forgot that this was the day Mama had died. I forgot her. How horrible a daughter did that make me?
With her effervescent enthusiasm, Winifred said, “I’ve yet to receive my invitation to your wedding. When is it to be held? Certainly, you’ve chosen a date by now.”
That appeared to be the one question on everyone’s mind tonight. When would the wedding be held, and would they receive an invitation? To everyone else, Edwin had referred them to his aunt. If I had to hear that question one more time, it would tear me in two.
Biting the edge of my tongue didn’t help to mitigate the frustration boiling inside me, so I answered with as much grace as I could muster. “I don’t know, and frankly—”
Edwin slung an arm around my shoulders, stealing away the rest of my words as he squeezed the breath from my lungs. “It couldn’t come soon enough,” he answered. His clenched jaw gave the words a terse edge. “Come now, darling. Let’s have a dance.”
“There’s no room in here—”
His voice was tight. “I’m sure our guests will make room.”
He guided us closer to the quartet. Unlike me, he didn’t have to weave between the groups and couples clustered with drinks in hand as they chatted and cooled themselves with painted paper fans. The guests parted to make room for his bulk. By the time we reached the quartet, he’d cleared a space six feet wide and four feet long.
When he held up his hand to the woman seated at the pianoforte, she stopped playing immediately. The music jolted to an abrupt halt. In the sudden hush, Edwin’s voice was overly loud as he commanded, “A waltz.” His tone was as imperial as an emperor.
She set her hands to the keys once more, coaxing out a slower beat. Edwin pulled me into his arms.
“Smile,” he said, his voice tight as he lowered his head to mine. “Otherwise, they might not believe we’re in love.”
We aren’t. I ignored the ache in my chest and smiled all the same. Better to save face, to camouflage among the sea of insipid young girls.
Edwin swept me into the dance. I stumbled to follow his long stride. I barely kept from stepping on his foot.
“Out of practice?” Although his face was blurry, this close I noticed the supercilious raise of his eyebrow.
Why was he trying to nettle me? We were a team. We were supposed to have a truce. We were none of the things I’d thought we were.
“Not at all,” I answered, breathless. “I’ve always been a better dancer than you.”
He made a sharp, disbelieving noise, cut off as soon as it escaped his throat. On the next turn, he tightened his hold on my waist, drawing me closer.
“Propriety,” I whispered. I needed some barrier to hide behind and that chafing constraint worked to my benefit for once. Waltzing this close to Edwin after knowing how it felt to have his body pressed so much closer to mine…
Embarrassment flushed my cheeks, a stark contrast to my white dress. Maybe no one will notice. And at any moment, Old Lady Gladstone would burst in and declare this entire thing a charade.
“We’re engaged,” Edwin reminded me with a grin. And…a leer? I stiffened.
My imagination must be running wild with me. I couldn’t see his eyes clearly enough to discern any expression, let alone a lecherous one.
I forced myself to relax. “Even so, I’d prefer if we danced no closer than is proper.”
He spun and pulled me so close, our thighs brushed for a moment. The contact jolted through me like fire. A smile teased at his lips as he settled into this more proper position. Which, damn him, was just as close as I’d protested earlier.
“Define proper in this instance.”
“I’m not a scientist like you. I don’t care for proper definitions.”
“Don’t you?” He raised his eyebrows again. “You used to be mad about the law. Like your father if I recall.”
I shrugged, breaking eye contact. “Then I learned women have no say in the law. Certainly not enough to attend university.”
My breath gushed from my chest as our bodies brushed again. This time, he turned abruptly to avoid colliding with a twittering pair of girls, giggling behind their fans. They didn’t avert their gazes fast enough. Edwin and I were undoubtedly the topic on their wagging tongues tonight. I didn’t want to know the rumors.
As if he didn’t notice the stares, he maintained his easy stance and teasing smile as we continued to dance. How long would this waltz stretch on?
Another couple joined us on the makeshift dance floor, reducing the spectacle. Edwin took smaller steps, holding me a bit closer as we shared the meager space. He lowered his voice even further. “Why are you still fixated on that? It doesn’t reflect on your intelligence.”
“No, only on the injustice of this society.” A bone deep weariness swept through me upon considering the age-old fight. Despite the painstaking work done by Papa and others like him, we’d barely gained any ground. Some days, my hope of seeing anything changed in my lifetime grew thin. However, I had to keep fighting. For the future, if not the present. For my daughters.
Would I have any daughters?
Softly, he said, “I’d change that if I could.”
Would he? He’d said he’d support me in anything, but the last thing I’d needed him to help with, he had refused on account of the danger involved. All of life had a little danger. If I never ventured out of doors, I would never accomplish anything, never help anyone.
However, I didn’t fight him on the point. I nodded and let the subject drop. We continued to dance. The woman at the pianoforte seemed content to play this song until the end of time. Biting the inside of my cheek, I tried to hide how the forced proximity with Edwin lit a fire in me. Everywhere we touched felt unusually sensitive.
“How much longer is this song going to last?”
Edwin’s grin swamped his face. It warmed the air between us. “I’m surprised you haven’t grown accustomed to the tedious customs of courtship. We are engaged, after all. We need to keep up appearances.” He leaned his head closer and added, “If you want flowers, all you have to do is ask. I have quite the array. I won’t even send you chrysanthemums.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Do not send me flowers.”
“Are you certain? I have the most beautiful orchid. Quite the temperamental little flower. Rather like you, actually. It pouts when it doesn’t get its way but it’s much safer in the shade sometimes than always in the sun.”
“Are you referring to our argument from yesterday?” My hands curled reflexively. My fingernails dug into his meaty bicep. He didn’t seem to notice.
His body stiffened beneath my hands, but he gave no outward sign that his teasing mood had altered. “I wouldn’t call it an argument.”
“You treated my aspirations as if they are secondary to your whims. What would you call that?”
He flinched. “A difference of opinion. I won’t apologize for looking out for your continued good health when you clearly don’t consider the same.”
“I consider it,” I said darkly. My will to argue dissipated beneath another wave of weariness. All I wanted to do was go home with Papa and celebrate Mama’s life as we usually did on this day.
Fortunately, the song soon ended. The moment it did, I dropped my hand and turned toward the door. If I couldn’t go home, I needed a moment or two to compose myself.
The throng of guests blurred around me. Fortunately, without Edwin’s broad-shouldered silhouette looming nearby, no one paid me any mind. I slipped into the corridor without being detained.
Once there, an old woman stopped me with a hand on my arm. At first I bristled, prepared to mutter something noncommittal and slip away, but when I turned I discovered that she was only Agnes. Old Lady Gladstone seemed to have forgotten about the anniversary of Mama’s death, but from the way Agnes’s eyes crinkled in the corners in sympathy, she hadn’t.
A weight lifted from my shoulders. For the first time tonight, I felt as though I could breathe. I didn’t have to pretend with her. She saw the agony I was in.
As she clasped my hand with her paper-soft palm, she smiled faintly. “I saw you and Lord Edwin dancing. You two look so darling together.”
Then again, maybe she was as blind as a bat.
I pressed my lips together. “I suppose we are, but I’m quite fatigued after that. Is there a quiet place where you don’t think I’ll be disturbed?”
“Your mother.” Agnes opened her arms. “Come here, dear. It was thoughtless of our lady to schedule the event tonight.”
Privately, I thought so too, but I’d never say such a thing aloud where Old Lady Gladstone might hear. I was on shaky enough footing with her of late as it was. Nevertheless, I couldn’t resist the moment’s comfort that the longtime Gladstone servant offered. Despite the fact that we stood in the middle of the corridor for all to see, I let her tuck me into her embrace, warm and soft. Tears stung my eyes, but I valiantly held them at bay.
“Mary, what are you doing?” Edwin’s tone, although low, was cutting.
I pulled away. Gently bred young ninnies didn’t hug servants in the middle of soirees. Or at all, come to think of it.
Agnes sounded fierce as she defended me. “My lord, she’s had a difficult day…”
I laid my hand on her sleeve to stall her. “Thank you, Agnes. Edwin is right, we have many other guests to which we must attend.”
He smiled stiffly. “Quite.” Clasping his hand around my elbow, he led me away.
To my surprise, instead of heading for a knot of people in the adjoining parlor that I was moderately certain we hadn’t greeted yet, he directed us down the hall. More people lined the corridor, mostly servants bustling back and forth with food and drink, but the crowd swelled from one sitting room across the hall into the one opposite. Edwin tugged me down the well-lit corridor instead, away from the crowd. He subtly checked the doors as he went.
Locked. Locked. Locked.
A latch opened.
He cast a glance over his shoulder. After scanning the corridor, he shouldered the door open and ushered me inside. He released me the moment I stepped across the threshold. When he eased the door shut, it muffled the babble and the soft lilt of the music. The faint aroma of fresh-cut flowers teased at my senses, emphasized by the humid air. Leaning his back against the door, he sighed. A soft thump emanated from his direction as he let his head fall against the wood.
Moonlight streamed through the open windows, so the room wasn’t completely devoid of light, but it might as well have been. Between my lack of spectacles and the dim lighting, I could barely see my hand in front of my face
After a heartbeat, Edwin straightened. He stormed toward me, hemming me against the back of an armchair. “What are you doing, Mary?” He dropped his hands to my bare arms, his palms rough. “We have an agreement. All I need is for you to keep up this facade for three more days. Can’t you do that, at the very least?”
What was the importance of three days? He emphasized the words as though his life depended on my continuing this charade.
“I’m tired, Edwin. I want to go home.”
His grasp tightened on my arms. Not painful, but it trumpeted the fact that he didn’t intend to let me leave. “You can’t. This is our engagement party. You have to stay to the end of the night.”
By the time this event ended, it would be past midnight. Papa and I would have broken our tradition of remembering Mama with her wine. What would she think of us?
This time when tears flooded my eyes, I couldn’t hold them back. I didn’t know if he could see me, but he certainly heard the catch in my voice. “I can’t do it, not tonight.”
His body stiffened. His voice soft, he asked, “Are you calling off the engagement?”
Would he even let me do so? That contract we had gave him all the power. If I didn’t fulfill my part, we married for convenience. I couldn’t call off the engagement, not for another three days.
“This is wrong.”
He recoiled, releasing me. All I wanted was to feel the warmth of his body again. I felt so alone in the darkness.
“Having our engagement party tonight is wrong. Doesn’t Old Lady Gladstone remember my mama at all? Don’t you?”
For a long moment, the silence between us threatened to choke me.
He whispered, “I never knew her well.” After a moment’s pause, he asked, “Today has some special meaning, doesn’t it?”
“It’s the eleventh anniversary of the day she died.” I wiped the tears from my cheeks, but they continued to fall. If he asked me to stop, I didn’t know if I’d be able to.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was raw. “I forgot.”
At least he didn’t try to tell me that he’d never known. The day it had happened, I’d fallen apart in front of him. He’d held me as I’d wept into his shirt and commiserated, telling me about his father.
Edwin stepped closer again. He hesitated before he wrapped his arms around me and urged me closer. I didn’t resist. I wept into his shirt again, every bit as heartbroken today as I had been eleven years ago. Time was supposed to heal the wound of her loss, but it didn’t. It scabbed over from time to time, only to be ripped open at inconvenient moments.
Such as the night we celebrated our engagement.
I half-expected him to hurry me through my tears and urge me to return as if nothing had happened, but he didn’t. He didn’t speak a word but continued to hold me upright. If not for his arms around me, I felt as though I might fall apart. For this moment, I wasn’t alone, and I couldn’t send him away. I needed him here.
After a time, I whispered into his waistcoat, “Don’t you think we should return?”
He didn’t loosen his hold. “Let’s stay a few moments longer. I never cared for Society events, anyway.”
I rested my cheek against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart as his warmth surrounded me, slowly soothing the bitter sting of Mama’s loss.