Chapter Four
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Edward peered at the ledgers until the numbers blurred, then gave up with a sigh, turning his attention to the wind rattling against the window.
The study was warm enough with a fire burning in the iron grate, and the housekeeper had furnished him with cake and tea.
He didn’t mind balancing accounts usually, finding it a satisfying job, especially since it appeared Beatrice was quite sensible at managing the household expenses.
But today was different.
Later today he would be dining out with his wife.
She would wear an elegant gown and maybe some jewels and they would have nothing to distract one another from the task at hand.
He wasn’t certain if she quite understood what he intended when he invited her out but he was determined—tonight they would remember those early days of courtship and start to fix what he had almost broken.
A tap at the door. Edward did not bother to call out; the butler entered anyway, a folded letter balanced on a silver tray.
“An urgent missive, my lord.”
He grimaced. An urgent letter was never good. “Thank you.”
He recognized Georgina’s handwriting even before the signature. He read it dispassionately even as his stomach began to sink. A line of ink had blotted through the final word. He imagined Georgina’s hands shaking as she wrote.
“Christ.”
He set the letter aside and stared at it for a few moments. It seemed Annabel fancied herself utterly in love, ready to race to Scotland to secure her own happiness. From what he knew of the man she thought herself in love with, that could not be allowed to happen.
He checked his pocket watch—an hour until his dinner with Beatrice. He should be getting ready really.
It would take that long just to get across London. His chest constricted. The timing, of course, was perfect.
Flexing his jaw, Edward briefly considered his options. He could wait, see if Annabel returned. He could ignore the letter. He could—ridiculous thought—pretend he never received it, go to dinner with Beatrice and for once act like the sort of man she might respect.
But that was fantasy. He remembered his father’s last days, the way the old man’s voice rattled in his ruined lungs, the grip on Edward’s hand still iron-strong as he begged him to look after Georgina and Annabel.
Edward found himself gripping the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles had gone pale. He loosened his hold and tried to steady his breath. Duty was a curse. He was a sensible man, and sensible men did not believe in curses, but in that moment he felt well and truly hexed.
“Where is the viscountess?”
“At the hospital I believe, my lord.”
But of course. His beautiful wife’s skills were not limited to sketching and managing a household excellently. She also happened to have a charitable nature.
Guilt swirled its way through his gut.
He rose swiftly. “Will you warn her that I may be late tonight but that I will be home?” He looked at the butler when the man nodded. “I will be home and we shall dine out, do you hear me?”
“I shall pass on the message exactly as you have dictated, my lord,” the butler sniffed as though offended Edward thought he would do anything else but the man didn’t have a romantic bone in his body and Edward doubted he understood the importance of Edward not letting Beatrice down.
Edward shrugged on his coat, grabbed his gloves and hat. As he put a hand to the door, Mrs. Prewett moved through the hallway. Her eyes widened.
“You are leaving, my lord?”
“I will return,” Edward vowed.
“Of course, my lord.”
He couldn’t avoid the narrowed gaze Mrs. Prewett gave him. He knew full well whose side his housekeeper was on.
The front door opened to a flurry of wind, bringing in several stray leaves with it.
Edward hesitated only long enough to wonder if Beatrice would really wait for him, or if she would simply roll her eyes, curse his name, and dine alone.
He didn’t blame her. He had once believed that there was nothing worse than a man who failed to live up to his obligations.
Now he knew better. There were some obligations that ruined every other thing you tried to build.
Clutching his hat, he stepped into street and summoned a hack.
He knew where he needed to go first and he didn’t look forward to it.
Annabel had supposedly been spotted at the Royal Oak and according to his men, the boy she was sweet on spent time there, yet no one had been able to track Annabel or the boy as yet.
Edward reckoned it was about time to toss some large sums of money at the problem or even throw some fists around if need be.
Town in the early evening was a different animal with shopkeepers locking their businesses and people hurrying home.
By the time his carriage finally reached the edges of St. Giles, women were already stalking the streets looking to sell themselves and he moved past at least two drunken fights.
He rapped on the carriage roof, climbed out and paid the driver who he knew wouldn’t go any farther into the area and pulled his hat low as he made his way into the warren of tightly knit houses.
This was not an area a man of his standing ought to frequent, certainly not alone and preferably with a stout walking stick.
The filth and gloom quickly surrounded him as he marched purposely past tenements that held a dozen times more people than they should until he came upon the Royal Oak, spilling light and laughter into the fog.
He was about to duck into the tavern when he spotted her at the nearby coach stop.
Annabel sat beneath the gas lamp at the entrance hunched over a travel bag and shivering in her thin coat.
She clutched the bag as though it contained her life, not just a few changes of clothes.
She looked impossibly small and young and any frustration he’d felt at her leading him on his merry chase fled.
Edward squared his shoulders and stepped into the glow of the lamp. “Annabel.”
She jerked her head up, eyes wide. For a moment, he thought she might bolt.
“Edward…I…I…didn’t…” She trailed off, her lips trembling as she tried to compose herself.
The bravado he remembered from her childhood—arguing with tutors, sticking her tongue out at the neighbor’s dog—had drained from her face, replaced by the hollow look of someone who’d learned a brutal lesson about the world.
“He’s gone,” she said, her face crumbling as she rose from her spot on the ground and flung herself at Edward. “Gone,” she repeated against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her small frame. “I gave him money for our tickets and then—” She gave a shuddering gasp. “He never came back for me.”
He rubbed her back for want of anything useful to say. Annabel knew she’d been a fool. What was the sense in telling her so? Her breaths slowed and she finally glanced up at him.
“Are you not going to give me a telling off?”
“I think not.”
Annabel let out a strained laugh. “He said I was clever. That I was brave to run away. But in the end I was just a fool.”
He tried to remember what it was he was meant to say. Comfort was not his strong suit. “You made a mistake. That is all. Everyone does, eventually.”
She stared at him, eyes rimmed red. “Even you?”
He hesitated, then nodded. “Especially me.”
Annabel sniffed, wiped her nose with the back of her glove, and squared her shoulders in a gesture that was unmistakably her mother’s. “I don’t want to go back,” she admitted softly. “She’ll be so angry.”
Edward shook his head. “She’ll be relieved. Angry second.”
Annabel’s attempt at a smile was pitiful, but genuine. “Will you—can you—take me home?”
“Of course.”
He scooped up her bag and tucked it beneath his arm. He considered, briefly, the possibility of hunting down that boy himself and delivering a few choice words—or something else—but it would accomplish nothing.
Annabel was unharmed and unattached to the blackguard. That was the main thing.
With an arm about her shoulders, he guided her out of the slum and toward the waiting carriages. She clung to him, a small thing seeking refuge, and he did not shake her off. He was surprised to find the anger had ebbed, leaving only a raw ache in its wake.
They reached the curb, and Edward hailed a hack. After Edward gave the driver directions to Georgina’s, he climbed inside and sat next to Annabel.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “For all of it.”
He adjusted his hat and met her gaze. “We all want things we cannot have, Annabel. You will learn to forgive yourself for it. Or, if you’re clever, learn to want better things.”
The dark interior of the carriage forced Edward to avoid looking at his pocket watch but he knew it was too late—that by the time he returned home, Beatrice would have been waiting for him.
Perhaps she would continue to wait? He could but hope.
Before the carriage had even come to a halt, the door to Georgina’s lodgings flew open. Georgina stared at her daughter for two full seconds before launching herself down the stoop, arms flung wide, seizing Annabel with a cry.
“Sweet mercy, you little idiot,” she gasped, hugging Annabel so hard the girl squeaked. “What in God’s name possessed you?”
Annabel flattened herself into her mother’s hold. “I’m sorry, Mama. I didn’t—he said he would—”
Georgina cut her off with a sharp look, then pressed her daughter’s face between her palms, scanning her for wounds. “Have you eaten? Are you cold?” She looked to Edward. “You must come inside. It’s cold.”
He obeyed, stepping into the cramped entryway and closing the door with care. They made their way up to the lodgings and Georgina ushered them in quickly.
“The state of you,” Georgina muttered, shepherding Annabel into the sitting room and motioning for Edward to follow. He ducked his head to pass beneath the low lintel.
“What have you put us through?” Georgina muttered as she placed a kettle over the fire.
Annabel sank onto the threadbare sofa and sniffed, blinking at the hearth where a meager fire was losing ground to the damp. “I won’t do it again. I promise.”
“Promises,” Georgina huffed, but her hands trembled as she brushed Annabel’s cheek. “You’re safe, that’s what matters.” She turned to Edward. “Thank you. I know you didn’t have to, but…” Her voice caught. “Your father would be proud of you, truly.”
He found himself looking at the threadbare rug rather than her face. “It was my duty.”
“No, it wasn’t.” She eyed him for a moment. “I’ll make us tea.”
Annabel looked up at him, pink slowly returning to her cheeks. “I am sorry, Edward. For all the trouble. I will be good, I promise. Seeing what London was truly like…I see now how lucky I am.”
He shook his head. “I think perhaps it is time you explored London properly. But in a safe way.”
Georgina arched a brow as Edward turned to her. “Perhaps Annabel can spend some months with my wife and me during the year? That way she can experience all London has to offer.”
That was if Beatrice was still around. By his reckoning, he was dangerously close to her fleeing off to the country or the Continent and leaving them married in name only.
“Edward,” Georgina whispered, “the scandal.”
“We’ll manage a way around it. Perhaps Annabel can be a friend to my wife.”
Annabel looked at him with something like awe. “It sounds wonderful. Does it not, Mama?”
Georgina hesitated. “We will discuss it at length.”
Edward knew Georgina would agree in the end. Annabel had spent too long being hidden away for fear of creating scandal or upsetting his mother and it was not fair to Annabel, who had done nothing wrong. A young girl needed to experience life, he realized, so he would have to ensure she did so.
Safely.
“Will you stay for a cup of tea, Edward?” Georgina asked, grabbing a cloth and wrapping it around the kettle.
He almost said yes. The room was warm and full of something he could not name, a feeling he hadn’t known since childhood.
Perhaps bringing Annabel into his life properly would bring more of that sensation.
But he had a wife waiting, or perhaps not waiting, at home.
He pulled on his gloves, nodding toward the door.
“Another time,” he said. “I’d best be off.”
Georgina smiled. “Thank you again.”
He bowed his head in acknowledgment. At the door, Annabel caught his sleeve, just for a second. “Thank you,” she said. “For everything. You’re the best big brother a girl could ask for.”
She moved onto her tiptoes and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Edward couldn’t help but smile back. He didn’t agree with her assessment, however, he would try to do better by her in the future and embrace the connection they had through his father.
For now, though, he had to make haste and pray Beatrice had not given up on him.