Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
D ear Edmund,
Why does everyone mistake logic for fear? Although I cannot explain, the truth threatens everything. This is the reason I must stay in the shadows.
Not fear.
Definitely not fear.
I have heard you are searching for a bride. How goes the endeavor? As I am sure you are aware, many ladies of the ton are eagerly vying for the position. I assume you will find a nice, biddable lady who will follow your every whim.
I am also searching for a match. The matter has gained utmost importance in recent days.
Yours,
P
P.S. Not fear.
“Social justice.”
Two small words.
Infinite consequences.
“Your Grace, what a surprise.” Priscilla strode into the room, speaking before she even reached the duke. “I see you have met my sewing guild. Are they sharing details about our meetings? We talk about so many things. Sewing, of course, the latest fashions–”
“Social justice.”
She swallowed. “We discuss society, like in every ton drawing room.”
His eyes narrowed.
Sweat broke out under her stays as the ladies squirmed uncomfortably behind him. She had to regain control, and quickly. The first step was getting him away before someone said something else that was compromising. “Ladies, if anyone is interested, cook made her famous peach cobbler.”
Clearly grateful for the excuse, and such a delicious one, the ladies quickly excused themselves. Emma and Hannah lingered, but Priscilla gave them a small nod. With twin frowns, they followed the rest of the ladies.
“A most unusual sewing guild.”
Priscilla forced a smile. “There’s nothing unusual about my guild. We cater to smart, strong women who like to sew.”
He folded his arms across his chest.
She puffed out hers. “You doubt their intelligence.”
He shook his head. “Not at all. They seem smart and thoughtful. I was curious about their devotion to sewing, however. I asked them to show me their work, and the results were a bit surprising.”
No doubt.
“One of them showed me a flower bed that resembled a dead cow. Another showed me an aubergine that resembled…” He grimaced. “Something else.”
A blush stole up her cheek. She had thought the first a dead horse. And the aubergine?
A cock.
“We do not require extraordinary ability to join the guild. It is simply a group where ladies can relax and discuss current events.”
“Like social justice.”
“We discuss anything and everything.”
“Really?” he stepped forward. “Are you sure you don’t have a particular focus?”
Her heart skipped a beat. “It’s just a sewing guild.”
“You’re hiding something.”
“Untrue.” She was hiding many, many things. “I assure you, Your Grace, I am as I seem. Yet you have not explained the reason for your visit. I assume you did not come to see my sewing guild.”
He did not respond.
She sucked in a breath. Had he come to investigate? How close to her secret was he?
“I need you to be honest with me.”
She laughed nervously. “I have been honest with you. I told you we wouldn’t suit–”
“That’s part of your dishonesty.” He moved closer. “I know you feel what’s between us. Something is holding you back, and I want to know what it is. I will support you.”
She opened her mouth to dismiss him, yet stopped. For just a moment, she considered what if .
What if she told him the truth?
What if she shared who they were to each other?
What if she revealed how she felt?
Exposure was looking more and more inevitable. If she revealed herself, at least she would have some control over the situation. Hopefully, he would understand why they could not be together and would continue to work with her.
“I’m trying to give you time.”
She narrowed her eyes. Like her mother, he was acting as if the outcome was inescapable. Thoughts of honesty dissipated as he once more seized control.
“I do not need time.” She angled her head to view him. “I already made my decision.”
“You accepted a suitor?” he asked sharply.
“No!”
At his triumphant look, she hastened to add, “But I’ve narrowed my search. Soon I will announce a betrothal.”
“I see.” His eyes flashed in challenge. “Then I suppose I will have to move quicker.”
Her stomach clenched “Your Grace, why are you here?”
He held her gaze, edged forward. He sighed softly. “My intention was not to upset you, Priscilla.”
She swallowed. As difficult as it was to fight his aggressive nature, she could scarcely endure his earnest one.
“I will tell you, but first, I’ve been dying to do this.”
“Do wh–”
He kissed her.
Pure danger. In the drawing room where anyone could enter, she was powerless to stop the forbidden. He tasted of sweet perfection, wine and pure male. He was equal parts strong and tender, powerful and kind. She pushed closer, breathing in his scent. No matter how many times they kissed, he enraptured her.
She gave a soft moan when he pulled back, heaving in air, wading through a sea of emotions: satisfaction, desire, pure need. How would she ever convince him to halt his pursuit when she couldn’t stop kissing him?
“I’m sorry.”
The deep voice seeped into her mind, stealing her attention. She fought to appear unaffected. “You should be. You should not be kissing a lady in her home.”
“I’m not sorry about the kiss.” The wolfish smile returned. “I’m sorry about stopping.”
So was she.
“But as much as I don’t fear being forced to marry you, I’m trying to avoid you feeling so. My apology is for that risk.”
“If you don’t want me to feel forced, then end this courtship.”
“I can’t do that.”
She tensed.
His face betrayed no emotion. “You wanted to know why I came.”
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded.
He walked to the table, where a large white box tied with a vibrant blue ribbon sat. She had been so preoccupied, she hadn’t noticed it before. Yet it was extremely large, and expensive looking. “Gifts are not necessary.” She took a deep breath. “Unless it’s a vase. Tell me it’s a vase.”
He chuckled, and even she smiled.
“I’m afraid my sense of self-preservation is too large for that.” He stepped back. “I hope you like it.”
She walked over to the box and untied the ribbon. She started to lift the top. “Whatever it is, I cannot acc–”
She stopped. Swallowed.
It was the dress of her dreams.
“Oh my.” Carefully and slowly, she lifted the gown. The fabric shimmered like liquid pearls, soft and elegant and nearly weightless in her hands. Faceted diamonds glittered in the light, casting fiery rainbows upon the intricate embroidery. Delicate lace trimmed the edges, intricate patterns with a quiet grace. “It’s even more beautiful than I remembered,” she whispered.
He smiled. “Do you like it?”
She didn’t like it, she loved it. A shot of delight surged through her. “It’s amazing.” She held it close. “But how?”
“I spoke with Lady Drummond.”
Unease flared. Before she could say anything, he held out his hand. “Don’t worry, I didn’t use any unscrupulous measures. I simply convinced her another dress would better suit Lady Clara, just as Madame Fleur said.”
Priscilla gazed at him. There had to be more.
“I also agreed to attend Lady Clara’s coming out ball.”
That made sense. Lady Drummond was a shrewd woman. She knew Edmund’s presence would be far more valuable to her granddaughter than any dress.
In the end, most everyone got something. She got the gown of her dreams; Clara got a dress better suited to her, and Lady Drummond got a fantastic launch for her granddaughter.
Edmund received nothing.
She sighed. “You have to stop doing this.”
“Stop cajoling dragons into trading dresses? I’m pretty sure this is the first, and last, time.”
She tapped his arm. “You know what I mean. Being nice.”
“How else will I protect myself from your vases?”
She laughed lowly. “I insist on paying you back.”
“There’s no need. Lady Drummond refused a refund. She asked me to redirect her funds to charity instead.”
Priscilla paused, smiled. “Perhaps the dragon has more smoke than fire. Not everyone is as they seem.”
“Exactly.”
She swallowed. This was not a conversation she wanted. “Still, you must let me pay you back.”
“I absolutely refuse to take any funds from you.” A light came into his eyes. “But there is one thing you can do.”
No.
“Yes?”
“More than anything, Lady Drummond wants her granddaughter’s come out to be a success. Unfortunately, Lady Clara has been the target of some vicious rumors, endangering both her reputation and the ball. They say she has gotten closer than appropriate to a gentleman. There is no proof, thus it has not caused irreversible scandal, yet it has dampened her upcoming debut.”
Priscilla frowned. Society could be so cruel. “I can counter the gossip,” she offered. “Say they were false, and that she is a diamond of the first water. With my position, it could make a difference.”
But it was not all she could do. Like Edmund, her attendance would both elevate the ball and attract others. It would be a risk to be close to Edmund at so intimate an affair, yet how could she send her regrets when Lady Drummond gifted her the dress? “I will also attend.”
Satisfaction lit Edmund’s expression, and a complete absence of surprise. She clenched her muscles as once again the duke got his way. Perhaps the trade did get him something.
Her.
“Handwriting.”
“Excuse me?”
“Handwriting.” Edmund rubbed his hands together. “That’s how I am going to do it.”
Crawford looked at Peyton, who shrugged. “Do what?”
“That’s how I’m going to discover the identity of my informant.” Edmund looked out at the crowd overfilling Lady Drummond’s ballroom. The ball was an unmitigated crush, far exceeding even the most optimistic predictions. Scores of lords and ladies walked the luxurious space, enjoying delicate appetizers and superb liquors.
He swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching as guests danced, talked and laughed. Any one of them could be his informant. “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it earlier. Just because I didn’t recognize the handwriting doesn’t mean I can’t find it.”
“You just need to get a handwriting sample from every lord in the ton . Simple.” Crawford raised his glass.
“It won’t be as complicated as all that.” Edmund pointed to a satin-covered book on the front table. “I can examine guest books, wagering sheets and even the daily correspondence. I may already have a matching sample.”
“What if your informant is purposely changing his handwriting?” Peyton asked.
“Then I will have lost nothing.” Edmund shrugged. “I may never find him, but it’s still worth a try.”
Their hostess walked up. As always, Lady Drummond wore uninterrupted black, yet the dress was softer than her usual ensemble, with less fabric and a more modern cut. While she did not smile, there was a gentleness that hadn’t been present earlier. “Bradenton, a word?”
Peyton and Crawford bowed graciously. “We will see you later.”
Bradenton turned to his hostess. “Good evening, Lady Drummond. How are you?”
“I am delighted.”
He held in a smile. The slightest softening of her lips was the only visible difference between Lady Drummond’s fury and delight. “That is wonderful.”
“It is because of you. No, don’t deny it.” She held up a hand when Edmund started to protest. “You and I both know it’s true. The ball is a far greater success than I could have ever hoped. You promised to attend, yet you did far more than that. How many people did you convince to come?”
A lot. He’d called in favors, told countless friends and solicited his family. The only thing he hadn’t done was put a notice in the papers. “Lady Clara reminds me of my own sister. She deserves a successful launch.”
“Thank you.” The older lady studied him. “Not only is the ball a success, but the rumors plaguing my granddaughter have vanished. She is the happiest I have ever seen her.”
He gave a genuine smile. “I am most pleased.”
“As am I. As you have gone beyond our agreement, I feel the need to respond in kind. Of course there is little I can offer a duke such as yourself, but I did hear Lady Priscilla has recently arrived.” She paused, lowered her voice. “Would you care for some time alone with her?”
He allowed his lips to curve into a slow smile.
She interpreted his expression correctly. “If you go to the gardens and follow the path, you will come to a wall of red bricks with a single yellow brick. Push that brick, and a door will open into a beautiful, enchanted garden. If you decide to share it with Lady Priscilla, no one should bother you. That is, unless you wish to be bothered.”
H stared at her in shock.
“Don’t be surprised, young man. I see the way you look at her, and the way she looks at you. In my day, you’d be married with twins by now.”
He choked back a laugh.
She remained sober. “Time is your enemy, Bradenton. You are both highly sought after. If she, or you, inadvertently found yourself in a compromising position, it would be disaster. I can ensure success.”
He opened his mouth to turn down her offer. Stopped. Considered.
It was outrageous, contemplating what he fought for so many years. Yet Lady Drummond was not incorrect in her assessment, however frank it was. If one of them became compromised with someone else…
No. He could not start their union like this. Priscilla would be furious with him for forcing her, and she may still try to escape. As long as the chance existed for her to accept his suit without subterfuge, he had to try.
If that didn’t work…
“I appreciate the offer, but for now I will continue my courtship. I would love to view the garden, however.”
Lady Drummond sighed. “Just don’t tarry, young man. Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Once more he hid his smile. Others judged Lady Drummond severely, yet under the stern exterior she was charitable, kind and just. A shame she couldn’t help him attain Priscilla.
He stopped.
That didn’t mean she couldn’t help him find his informant.
He had only just devised his plan to search for his informant’s handwriting, yet perhaps someone was already familiar with it.
Like a matriarch who had known most lords since short pants.
It was not without risk. He couldn’t explain why he needed the information or what he intended to do with it. Still, Lady Drummond was not one to gossip. He had brought a writing sample from one of the letters, a paragraph with no mention of their subterfuge. He disliked sharing it, as he had declined to do with Crawford and Peyton, yet it would be worthwhile if it led to his informant.
“I could use your assistance with a different matter. I wish to know the author of a letter.” He held out the small paper. “If you could identify the handwriting, I would be most grateful.”
Lady Drummond took the offering without comment, her lips turned down as she studied it. Her eyes darted left and right, her frown deepening.
She hesitated. And then…
“I recognize it.”
He let out a slow breath.
“But I cannot recall whose it is.”
Disappointment pierced him, all the sharper for its proximity to success. He reached for the paper, but she clutched it tightly in her bony hand, studying it once more.
“It’s on the fringes of my mind.” She sighed. “It’s likely to come to me. Can I keep this?”
He nodded, anticipation muted but present. She may not have the answer right now, but her response was encouraging. As she said, she would likely remember.
Then he would have all the answers he needed.
“I do not know how to thank you.”
Priscilla smiled at the debutante of honor. As Madame Fleur predicted, Clara was resplendent in a pale blue gown embellished with sapphires and embroidered lavender flowers. It floated around her, flattering her pale complexion and casting her as a true diamond of the first water.
Priscilla smoothed down her own dress, a silky aqua creation with tiny beaded roses. It had not felt appropriate to wear the gown commissioned for Clara to her launch. “There is no need to thank me for your success. You are radiant.”
Pink tinged Clara’s cheeks. “I appreciate your kindness, but I am well aware of what you and Bradenton did for me. I never dreamed so many people would come to my ball. I’ve been here for a month, and I don’t really have any friends–” Her eyes turned misty, and she swiped at them. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a watering pot.” She took a deep breath. “What I’m trying to say is, thank you.”
“I do not accept.”
Clara’s eyes widened.
“I’m referring to your claim you have no friends.” Priscilla smiled. “You absolutely have a friend. Me.”
“Oh.” Clara’s eyes sheened brighter.
“Now, none of that.” Priscilla softly chided. “We don’t want your eyes getting all red. Soon we’ll arrange a visit, and I’ll introduce you to some very nice ladies. Not that it will be necessary after this.” She gestured to the large crowd. “I have a feeling you’re going to be quite popular.”
Clara’s smile brightened the entire room.
A small commotion sounded from the side of the ballroom. Priscilla sighed. She recognized what, or rather who, was behind the fuss.
She gave herself a moment to study him. Edmund was magnificent in a pitch-black suit with an intricate cravat and crisp lines. He stood tall, his muscular build imposing, his hair shiny and smooth, his features chiseled. He was even more celebrated at the intimate party, immediately attracting a small crowd. Yet he seemed distracted, a slight frown as he scanned the ballroom.
When he found her, the world disappeared.
For just a moment they stared at each other, as she resisted the connection that grew ever-stronger. It urged her to go to him, to ignore the danger to claim what she so desired. What would happen when the inevitable end came, when she found a match, or he did?
Her heart lurched.
She shivered it away, stood taller.
He left his audience and threaded through the crowd. He bowed. “Lady Priscilla, a pleasure as always.”
He leaned in, far enough to be respectable, but close enough only she could hear. “I am surprised you did not dash behind a potted plant when you saw me.”
She sniffed. “There was not a sufficiently large one.”
The amusement in his eyes deepened. “Or perhaps you knew I would find you wherever you hid.”
Her breath hitched. He was not merely referring to the ballroom.
“Would you care for a walk? Apparently Lady Drummond has an enchanted garden.”
She looked at him in surprise. “Enchanted? Lady Drummond actually said that?”
“You know I do not lie.”
Not like her. She swallowed back the words. “I can’t believe you charmed Lady Drummond. Is anyone not enamored of you?”
“I have not yet captivated that potted plant.”
“Actually, the plant was just remarking how dashing you were.”
“Really?” He raised an eyebrow. “Then yes, I have charmed everyone. Come with me to the garden.”
It was more command than request, yet Priscilla simply couldn’t resist.
He touched the small of her back, leading her forward. Tingles raced through her, bringing memories of touches and kisses, desire for more. She looked around, trying to divert her attention before she accosted him and made another memory in the middle of the crowd.
Laughter sounded from the refreshment table, where Clara chatted gaily with several girls. “I know how you charmed Lady Drummond.”
“Do you?” He continued forward, even as he nodded to countless people. He exchanged greetings, but did not stop as they exited the ballroom into the crisp evening.
Like Lady Drummond, the garden was severe and muted, with perfectly pruned hedges, manicured trees and not a single flower in the sea of green. A few other people were enjoying the fresh air.
“How have I charmed the dragon?”
“You made her granddaughter’s party a success. Instead of simply attending, you arranged for half of London to come.”
What he did was stunning.
Just like him.
He inclined his head. “You did no less. In addition to dispelling the rumors plaguing Miss Clara, you encouraged others to accept as well.”
“I may have mentioned it to my sewing guild.”
His gaze sharpened.
Why had she mentioned the guild again? “This was mostly you,” she blurted out. “Why do you do it?”
The fire in his eyes lightened. “Why do I do what?”
The query was meant to distract him, yet she found herself truly curious. “Why do you work so hard to help others? What is your true purpose?”
He hesitated for a moment. “Do you know the feeling you get when you help someone?”
She gave a soft smile. It was the same feeling she got every time a vote went her way, or when conditions improved at one of the charity organizations she supported. “There’s nothing like it.”
“Exactly!” His mask dissipated, and for once he wasn’t the commanding duke. Instead he was simply a man making a difference in the world.
“A dukedom is more than power and wealth. It’s about responsibility and changing the world for the better. It’s about helping people, no matter their social class. To bring joy to people, to make a difference in their lives. I would argue it’s the true meaning of life.”
She couldn’t agree more.
He didn’t aim for power or accolades. He did not care about being popular. He did it because he truly wanted to help people.
If he had been difficult to resist before, now…
She leaned in.
“Lady Priscilla,” he said softly.
She straightened, heaving in a breath of flagrant air. What was she doing? Had he so intoxicated her she would kiss him right here, in the open?
His expression was unfathomable, yet for just a moment, something stronger passed through his eyes. He lowered his voice. “I will leave now. Wait a few minutes, then follow the path until you reach a red wall with a single yellow brick. I will meet you there.”
A thrill raced through her. She should not agree, should not consent to once more being alone in his presence. Undoubtedly they would kiss again. Maybe twice. Maybe a dozen times.
After sacrificing so much for her cause, she deserved a little excitement before a lifetime of duty.
“I trust you can find your way?”
“Yes.”
With one final look, he turned and casually strolled away. She waited. And waited. And waited some more, through a short while that felt like forever. Even when he wasn’t with her, Edmund occupied her thoughts, her emotions. Every revelation made him more irresistible. It was almost like she was in–
No.
She pushed the thought down, away, because it never could be. Marriage would shackle her in virtual chains, stealing every freedom. No matter what he claimed, he would protect his wife.
She had to find a way to escape. Pain sliced through her, but it was the only way. Time was running out. What could she possibly do to change his mind?
She could tell him the truth.
What was once unthinkable may be her only hope. It was a risk, yet doing nothing held more danger, as he delved closer and closer to the truth. If discovery was inevitable, best it come from her. She could control the narrative, argue to continue their vital work. She would pursue her calling, and he would find a more biddable bride.
And her heart would break.
The door behind her closed as the last of the guests returned to the party. She stood straight and made a decision. She would do it. She would tell him the truth.
She forced herself to move, following the path to the unknown. In a few moments she came upon the red brick wall.
Where Edmund waited.
He seemed different. Or maybe she was different.
He held out his hand. “Ready?”
Not even a little. Yet she nodded as he opened a hidden door. With a deep breath, she followed him into the hidden depths.
Enchanted had been an understatement. Magical. Captivating. Magnificent. No words could truly describe the veritable wonderland. Lady Drummond had worn nothing but black for decades, yet somehow created a garden brilliant with color, a rainbow of roses, hyacinths and tulips tangled in a dazzling display of natural beauty.
“It’s amazing.” She twirled around. “Absolutely breathtaking.”
And fitting for what she needed to do.
She stopped and faced him. He closed the door to the garden, leaving them completely alone.
If she wanted to tell him, now was the perfect time.
How should she do it? Should she just blurt it out? The roses look lovely and by the way, I’m your informant? Should she start at the beginning? When I was a child, my grandmother saved a baby and my life changed? Should she use humor? You’re going to wish you had a vase when I tell you this. There were a million ways to tell him and not a single one that felt right.
“Are you well?”
He stared as if he could see every thought in her mind.
She breathed deeply.
“You know you can trust me, right?” Edmund came closer. “No matter what it is, I’ll understand.”
She took another deep breath. Steeled herself.
“It’s time I told you the truth.”