Through her mother’s noisy weeping, Chloe puzzled through one question: Just how many times could her mother utter a single word before Chloe’s patience snapped?
“M-married,” the dowager marchioness gasped out for a fourth time. From where she sat before the hearth, she buried another sob in her palm. “M-married.”
Five. That was now the fifth time she had thrown out that forlorn utterance.
Seated beside her on the damask sofa, Philippa, who’d long been the one to appease their mother, proved wholly incapable. She caught Chloe’s gaze, an apology in her expressive eyes. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed.
Chloe turned her focus to the window. What was the remorse for? Pulling back the curtains, she peered down at the streets below. Their mother’s endless round of tears? Her family’s unpardonable rudeness at dinner? Or fear that you’ve found yourself in a miserable marriage like their mother’s… and Philippa’s first union?
Her sister-in-law moved into position just beyond her shoulder. “She is worried about you,” Jane murmured.
Ah, Jane, ever the peacemaker. “As is Gabriel. As is everyone. That does not give anyone permission to be rude.” She’d expected more from her family. Instead, throughout the dinner, only a single member of her family—Philippa— had uttered a word to Leo.
“Married,” her mother repeated.
Chloe drew the line at that sixth utterance. She let the curtain slip from her fingers and faced her weeping parent.
“Given you’ve spent the past eight years trying to maneuver me into that very state, I’d expect you’d conduct yourself with a modicum of delight,” she called over.
Her mother flew to her feet. “Yes,” she cried, slashing the air with her wrinkled handkerchief. “I wished to see you wedded to a good man. A kind one. Instead, you’ve gone and tied yourself to a brute like—” Chloe’s father. The marchioness broke down, wilting into the sofa. Covering her face with her hands, she wept copious tears that shook her frame.
Philippa folded their mother close and made nonsensical soothing noises.
Chloe bit the inside of her cheek. “Leo’s not like him.” Was that assurance given for her mother? Or Chloe herself? Because, did she truly know him? Did she know him in any way?
Her mother drew back from Philippa. “How do you knowww that?” her mother pleaded, echoing her very thoughts. “He is a blackguard.”
I’ve never proclaimed to be anything other than a black-hearted scoundrel, because I’m not…
She hugged herself in an involuntary embrace. For the truth was, she didn’t know that.
“He is a man who wishes to be better,” she finally said into the quiet. Which wasn’t untrue. Her family, however, didn’t need to know the reasons for his request. “A gentleman who offered me marriage and forfeited all rights to my dowry, who asked for little in return.”
“A man like Tennyson does not do anything because he has a heart, Chloe,” her mother shot back, fury adding strength to her previously weakened timbre. No, he’d had a need in marrying her. Just as she’d had her own reasons to wed him.
Her mother drew in a breath and made a show of smoothing her skirts. When she again spoke, she was a master of her emotion. “I’ve always admired you, Chloe. Despite… everything.” The Monster Marquess of Waverly. “You were strong and clever, and you learned how to smile and laugh. But this?” She shook her head sadly. “This decision, I can never understand. It goes against all you are and all you have adamantly stood against as a woman.”
The damning words echoed in the quiet of the room long after her mother finished her measured diatribe.
Jane and Philippa stood in like measured silence, an affirmation of the dowager marchioness’ charges.
Chloe looked to each of them, the women in her life. “I came tonight to enlist your support in smoothing Leo’s entry into respectable Society. I never expected you, my family, of all people, should so pass judgment that you’d be incapable of extending that to him.” Bitterness lined her words. “Whether you approve or disapprove, despise him, or find me foolish for wedding him, he is my husband.” She squared her shoulders. “If you’ll excuse me?”
“Chloe,” Jane said, rushing over.
Chloe held a hand up. “I’d rather not discuss this any further. Not now.” Presenting her back, she marched off—albeit at a slower pace that her still slightly aching ankle allowed.
She exited the parlor and continued on through the corridors she’d raced as a child. And when she’d placed a sizable distance between herself and her mother, sister, and sister-in-law, Chloe let a stream of curses fly.
How dare they?
Regardless of whether or not they believed she’d made a mistake, the Edgertons had proven a loyal lot… extending kindness to those in need and forgiveness of each other. Now, they should meet Leo’s entry to the family with coldness?
Chloe scowled. She hadn’t expected them to be effusive with false joy. But a polite welcome and casual dialogue were the least they could manage for strangers at ton functions.
Outrage fueled her steps, pushing her onward and leaving her to muddle through her predicament.
As part of their arrangement, she’d promised Leo entry to Polite Society. She, however, had taken for granted her family’s assistance. What now?
The peal of children’s laughter split into her worried musings. Compelled toward the innocent expression of her nieces’ mirth, Chloe started for the ballroom. How many times had she herself sneaked about while her parents, a leading patron and patroness of the ton, had entertained guests? She reached the double doorways that hung wide open and abruptly stopped.
All the outrage and fury that had fueled her earlier movements fled.
Her niece Faith raised a rapier into position, facing her expertly positioned opponent.
“En garde,” Leo called and, leading with his front leg, thrust.
Faith retreated, moving sideways and parrying. “Like this?”
He shook his head and stopped. “It’s like a dance. One—”
“I don’t dance,” Faith interrupted.
“So no music lessons and no dance,” he noted, brushing the loose, golden curls that had tumbled over his brow back. “Another shame. Dancing is good fun.”
“Are you going to show Faith how to dance?” Violet called from where she sat at the edge of the ballroom, her legs stretched out before her. “Because I want to learn to dance. Will you show me?”
“Dancing will have to wait for another day,” he promised. “Assume your en garde position.” Pivoting on his heel, he rocked back, demonstrating the proper positioning. “Now, lead with your dominant leg,” he instructed.
While Faith followed the quick commands, Chloe muddled through, trying to make sense of the unlikely exchange between Society’s most-hardened rake, a man called heartless by her own family and by himself on numerous scores… and her young nieces. For men who were heartless didn’t deliver fencing lessons to young girls.
“Now, retreat,” he ordered, pushing forward. He lunged, his unconventional yet effective upward positioning highlighting the power of his lithe frame.
Chloe’s mouth went dry, her body heating at the mere remembrance of his touch… his kiss…
Faith just missed the tip of his rapier and went on the attack.
“Good,” he praised. “Those are the precise movements.”
A warmth spread throughout Chloe’s chest, quickening her heart. And God help her, it was disastrous and would prove problematic from this moment on, but a small scrap of that wildly beating organ slipped away, forever lost.
“Aunt Chloe!”
Leo stopped midlunge, his gaze alighting on Chloe.
Faith’s rapier found its mark, and it vibrated upon his shoulder. “You were distracted,” she called out excitedly.
Violet hopped up, cheering her elder sister’s triumph.
Leo flashed a bashful half-grin that softened him. “My lady,” he greeted, touching the tip of his blade to his forehead.
Smile. Be casual and breezy and all things nonchalant. Chloe forced her lips up into a grin, praying that it wasn’t one of those silly, fawning ones surely worn by too many women around her rake of a husband.
Leo said something to Faith and then, handing his rapier to Violet, sprinted over. “Have the ladies and gentlemen rejoined one another’s company?” he asked, ushering in the stark reality of her… their situation.
She shifted her weight over her cane. What was she to say to him about her mother’s explosion? And worse, the lack of support from Chloe’s family? It was the one major request he’d put to her.
She opened her mouth and then stopped. “Why aren’t you with my brother and Miles?”
He flashed another wry grin.
“Uncle Gabriel yelled at him,” Violet piped in from the middle of the ballroom floor.
Chloe whipped her gaze back to Leo’s. “What?”
“I was advised that your family wouldn’t take kindly to my being there.” Leo lowered his lips close to hers. “With good reason, love.”
She frowned. She’d not let him flirt her out of this discussion. “He was unkind to you,” she predicted, letting those words sink in. At his silence, fury rooted around her belly once more, spreading out.
Her husband chuckled. “It would hardly be the first time, and it will certainly not be the last, that I’ve earned some proper gent’s ire.”
“He called him a pony son,” Violet gladly supplied.
“A pony son?” Chloe echoed blankly, her mind racing. “What is a…” She gasped, slapping a palm to her mouth. Not only had her family been unpardonably rude with their silent treatment, they’d also hurled insults. Moving her hand, Chloe grabbed one of Leo’s. “We are leaving,” she gritted. Drudging up a smile for her nieces’ benefit, she waved with her and Leo’s interlocked fingers. “I’m afraid we have to leave.”
“Noooo,” the girls moaned in unison.
“Can Leo stay?” Violet pleaded.
And if rage hadn’t been spiraling through her, she’d have laughed at that honest and more than slightly disloyal willingness to cede Chloe’s company as long as it meant Leo remained. “I’m afraid not. Another time,” she lied, even as a ball of fury and pain stuck in her throat. For who knew if or when there would ever be another time?
She dragged her husband from the ballroom. As fast as her ankle could manage, she limped along the halls toward the foyer.
“The carriage please, Joseph,” she advised as soon as the old butler appeared.
His wizened features strained, he swallowed hard. So he knew of the tension that filled the household. Of course, as one who knew the darkest secrets to dwell in these corners and corridors, he’d be aware of her family’s less-than-discreet censure of Leo. “But his lordship—”
“The carriage, Joseph,” Chloe bit out.
“I cannot, my lady. Your brother would not want you to leave without…” He wisely let the remainder of that go unfinished. Over her shoulder, Joseph glanced at a footman, who rushed off.
She narrowed her eyes. “You’ll fetch my brother, then?” To what end? With the exception of her nieces, she’d heard enough from every Edgerton present. Chloe brought her chin up a notch. “You can tell my brother that unless he has an apology, there is nothing I care to speak with him about.” Releasing a still silent Leo’s hand, she ambled over to the door and yanked it open.
“But, my lady,” Joseph called after her.
Not bothering to wait to see if Leo followed suit, she marched off as quick as her ankle would permit.
Her husband immediately fell into step beside her. “I’d advise we wait for the carriage, madam.” He cast a pointed look at her ankle. “I’ve never been one so proud as to bite my nose to smite my face,” he drawled.
“Well, I have.” And she absolutely drew the proverbial line at allowing insults to be hurled at her or Leo.
Her husband took her gently by the forearm, forcing her to a reluctant stop. “I still must insist we wait.”
Chloe scoffed. “Come. It’s but a few streets between your residence and my family’s.”
He sighed. “Very well, then.” Leo swept her up by the knees, startling a squeak from her.
“What? You cannot…” Chloe sputtered. She shoved against him.
Leo tightened his hold around her. “If you insist we abandon our carriage, then I can’t allow you to go walking the streets of London on your injured ankle,” he remarked, not breaking stride. As calmly as he spoke, he might as well have strolled at a lazy pace through Hyde Park, rather than carry her through Mayfair.
“I’m too heavy,” she protested once more, struggling against him.
“We could return,” he suggested without inflection.
Chloe fell silent.
She could not return. Nor could she confide in Leo the full extent of the disastrous exchange with her mother. How did Chloe possibly tell him that the one thing she’d promised, she no longer could help him attain?
Laying her cheek against his chest, she stared out at the oddly quiet streets. I’m unable to fulfill the terms of our contract. Her mind shied away from the implications of what that meant for every other agreement struck. It merely highlighted every last warning her family had lashed her with again and again—Leo was a stranger.
Her husband broke the silence. “Your discourse with the ladies went as splendidly as mine with the gentlemen of your family?” he asked dryly.
For a brief moment, she contemplated glossing over the grimness of her exchange. She nestled against him, the beat of his heart steady, calming, with just the faintest acceleration because of the chore of carrying her. As a girl, however, she’d learned to appreciate the benefits of a direct beating. One didn’t spend minutes and hours and days with dread building when the outcome remained inevitable. “My family will not help with your entry into Polite Society,” she brought herself to say.
He stiffened. His biceps strained the fabric of his jacket. “I see.”
I see. Just that.
Two words that revealed… nothing. Silence stretched on as they made the slow journey home.
Home. That was not what it was. Not truly. Nor, however, had been the townhouse that she and her siblings had grown up in.
“I trust this is the first time you’ve earned your family’s disappointment.”
Chloe stiffened. Grateful that he could not see her face, lest he uncover the secrets she kept, she burrowed closer. “Because I’m a proper lady?”
“Because you’re a proper lady,” he confirmed.
Fencing? Shooting? By God, you are not a street slattern…
Leo knew nothing about her. And those demons, the ones that belonged to her, known only in parts and pieces by her family, would be shared with no one. Yet… she chewed at her lower lip. “It isn’t so much my family’s disappointment that… cuts,” she finally acknowledged into the quiet. “But rather… a shattered illusion of who they are.” In her mind, she’d built the Edgertons into an unconditionally loyal lot who’d blindly support one another’s decisions simply because of who they were to one another… and what they’d shared.
“People will always let you down, Chloe. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be,” Leo said in somber tones that, prior to this moment, she would have said he was incapable of.
He is speaking of himself. It was a warning of sorts that she’d have to be deaf not to hear.
“Now have your one question,” he said tiredly.
Her one? “Why?” she asked. Angling back in his arms, Chloe searched his face. “Why would you do that?”
“Is that your question?”
And lest he withdraw the opportunity on a technicality, she blurted, “How many innocent women have you debauched?”
His body went to stone. It wasn’t the question he’d been expecting. That much was clear in his coiled muscles.
For a long moment, she believed he wouldn’t answer.
And then…
“One.”
One. There had been just one innocent woman. Rakes, by nature and reputation, were men who despoiled innocents and seduced widows in equal measure. Yet there had been just one virtuous young woman. A million questions swirled.
“That was your one question,” he reminded.
Just then, a carriage rumbled along the intersection.
It jerked to a stop. The team of snow-white horses pulling it whinnied their annoyance.
“We have company,” Leo murmured, adjusting his hold on her.
The occupant, a gape-mouthed Lady Jersey, blinked repeatedly. She pressed her forehead to the pane, gawking at them.
Leo lifted his hand in salute. “My lady,” he shouted into the London quiet. “A pleasure seeing you here. Wave,” he said from the corner of his mouth.
Wave? Chloe shot a palm up, waggling her fingers.
Lady Jersey’s black barouche sprang forward, resuming its course. They watched as it disappeared around the corner.
Chloe giggled. For the rot that the evening had been, there had been something—
“Freeing, isn’t it?” he perfectly supplied. “Not giving a rat’s arse on Sunday what the world says.”
“It is,” she murmured to herself. “Do you know,” she started slowly, “I always prided myself on being one who thumbed my nose at Society’s conventions and lived without a worry about anyone’s opinion. And yet, I didn’t live that life. Not truly.” Despite her loathing of ton events, she’d never said damn all and refused to attend. “I went along to whichever ball or soiree my mother or brother wished me to attend.” All the while, she’d taken secret triumph in the knowledge that she wouldn’t marry. “Where is the triumph in that?” she spat, unable to keep the bitterness from creeping in.
Leo slowed his stride. “If it is any consolation, I went through my entire life flipping a middle finger to Society’s rules and expectations, and that is why I find myself… where I am.”
Married to me. A small pang struck somewhere in her chest.
It was foolish to feel anything from that revelation on his part. Neither of them had wanted this… And yet, it was there, a sharp disappointment.
It’s solely because you loathe the idea of being incapable of fulfilling your respective portion of the agreement.
Strengthened by that realization, Chloe stared contemplatively ahead. She didn’t need to rely on her family’s assistance in smoothing Leo’s way among the ton. Oh, it would be vastly easier with their help. But she herself—until now—had lived scandal-free. She could guide Leo so that he was… respectable, and then surely certain polite doors would be opened—to the both of them.
Enlivened, she mentally crafted her next plan.
Mayhap all was not lost, after all.