Chapter 19
CHAPTER 19
“ E dward?” Benedict strolled into his study, bearing a tray with two cups of coffee. “Do you have a moment?”
Heaving his hands from his pockets, Edward spun away from the large bow window and the lush sight of his mother’s old garden. His eyes flickered to the ormolu clock on the mantle behind him—over three-quarters of an hour.
Typically, the sight of the flowering bushes and trimmed hedges calmed him and reminded him of a time when he had blithely played on that square of green with no matters to bother him… but today, it had not worked. Peace still eluded him.
“Yes, of course.” He nodded to Benedict. “What is on your mind, brother? If it is that damned economics paper again—”
“No, it’s not that,” Benedict cut in while placing the tray at the center of the grand desk. “And that was an ethics paper which I turned in two weeks ago.”
“Right,” Edward nodded while circling his desk to perch on the edge and add a dash of milk to his drink, “What is it then?”
“I am breaking the courtship with Miss Alice,” Benedict admitted, forcing Edward to tighten his grip around the cup or it would surely slip from his hand.
Taking a sip, Edward carefully sat the cup down and calmly asked through the hammering in his ears. “Why?”
Sagging into the seat, Benedict rubbed his face. “I feel that there is no connection between us, not the one a couple heading to marriage should have.”
Clearing his throat, Edward replied, “You want a love match then?”
“I know it’s not all the rage of the ton,” Benedict shrugged. “We of the Upper Ten marry for mutual convenience, money, and connections. Respect and fidelity come second.
But I am not about a life where extramarital affairs are not uncommon but love matches are rarer than hen’s teeth. I want a partnership the very opposite of what mother and father had.”
Shifting a paper on his desk to appear distracted, Edward asked, “And what is it that you find so unpleasant about marrying Alice?”
“It is nothing terrible. It’s simply that I—” Benedict clarified before rubbing his face, “—feel more for her sister than for her. I always have. I feel like a heel saying such a thing, but Miss Penelope is so… vulnerable now, and I can’t stand aside any longer.
“When I saw her the other day and found the jackanape who was courting her, I felt…” Benedict’s lips slanted as he searched for the right word. “For the lack of the best fitting term, I felt jealousy. And then, I felt she needed a champion. Someone to defend her.”
Not Alice. She would have leaped in both feet first.
From the limited interactions he had with Miss Penelope, Edward could understand why Benedict would feel that the girl needed help. She certainly did not have the temerity of her older sister and did need support.
He certainly could not blame the girl for falling for Rutledge’s lies—a lot of innocents would have—and he would never reprimand Benedict for defending the girl.
Truthfully—and shamefully—he was relieved that his brother’s attention was away from Alice.
“Are you sure about this?” Edward asked calmly. “You know this will cause whispers.”
Benedict shrugged non-caringly, something that was out of character for him. “It will blow away in a couple of months when the next scandal comes along. The only thing I care about is making sure that, that… bounder, does not come within a mile of the girl.”
Fiddling with a pen, Edward asked, “How do you think Miss Alice will take this?”
“Honestly, I think she has been feeling the widening chasm between us but is not sure how to approach it,” Benedict said, squinting in his cup. “Blast, I’ve finished this already.”
“You do inhale coffee as if it were air,” Edward said. “A habit you have taken from me, I’m afraid.”
“That I have,” Benedict laughed. “Now, if you will excuse me, I have a day ahead of me.”
Frowning, Edward asked, “Are you not going to have breakfast?”
“No,” Benedict glanced over his shoulder. “Another trait I have adapted from you I fear. Oh, and I may not be back for dinner.”
“No worries,” Edward waved him off. “I may not be here either.”
When he left, Edward fell back into his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose. What was he to do about this now? He wanted Alice… but the vow to never marry. Was it firm… or was it wobbling?
Was it too much to let go of an old grudge to find happiness? There was comfort and ease when he was with Alice. He admired her strength, her dedication, even when she showed her vulnerability. He would be lying to himself if he did not admit that he wanted—craved—her pleasure.
But what do I do about it?
He knew one thing though—he was going to protect her as long and as far as she needed him to.
It just so happened that Alice was passing by the front door of the townhouse when someone knocked. Answering it, she took a breath to collect herself.
“My… lord,” she stepped aside to allow him entry, “I did not expect you today.”
The Marquess swept his hat off before stepping inside, “I had not planned on it either, but you and I need to speak, Miss Alice.”
Silently, she closed the door and turned. “It has been long overdue, hasn’t it?”
“Especially since yesterday,” Benedict said, “Is there somewhere we can talk? Privately?”
“Yes, we can—”
A flurry of peach bombazine came down the stairs and Alice stepped aside as Eliza managed to slide her coat on whilst tying the ribbon of her bonnet at the same time.
“Oh no, I am late. So late,” Eliza huffed and peeked out the door, waiting on the carriage. She turned to the two and hastily curtsied to Benedict. “My lord.”
“Where are you going?” Alice asked.
“To Miranda’s,” Eliza tapped her foot. “Er, that is Miss Valentine, my lord.”
“I see,” Benedict nodded. “Well, we shall leave you to it. Miss Alice?”
“Yes, yes,” she nodded to the stairs. “Please.”
As they mounted the stairs, Alice could not shake the dawning realization that he was not here to propose marriage. She could not blame him either as even if he did ask her to marry him, she would reject it.
A marriage to a man she did not want or feel a connection with was not one she would endure, even if that man had the wealth of the world at his feet.
“Would you like some tea?” She asked as they entered her aunt’s drawing room.
“It might help,” Benedict said.
As she sent for some tea, and they settled in across from each other, Alice folded her hands on her skirts. “You are not here to ask for marriage, are you?”
“No,” he sounded almost remorseful. “Miss Alice, as much as I regret saying this—”
“You have nothing to be regretful for,” Alice swallowed. “I will admit that in the beginning, it felt right, it felt fitting, but it has not felt that way lately. You are an honorable man, Benedict, kind and smart and lovely to be around, but we… we do not fit. Not as much as I would have liked.”
His expression fell. “You took the words from my mouth, Alice.”
“I should have done it before,” she said while rubbing her left arm. “I am sorry we— I took this long to say it. You seem to want a wife who is not—” She let out a breath. “—I am too old, too independent, too practical, and too unsophisticated to attract a husband like you. Also, I am not one of the Le Bon Ton . There is not one drop of blue blood that runs in my veins.”
Shaking his head, Benedict stopped her, “I do not give a whit about you not having blue blood, Alice. You are a lovely woman, but as I grew into my majority, I realized that I wanted the very opposite of what my mother and father had, a marriage of silence.”
“And your brother does not want to marry at all,” she mentioned absently. “How intriguing is that.”
“Not at all,” Benedict replied. “Edward is a curious creature and stubborn as a mule.”
She bit her lip. “Are you sure that trait does not follow in the family?”
“Very,” Benedict said, then sobered. “Are you sure you have no regrets about our courtship ending?”
“Not at all,” Alice shook her head. “I am relieved though that you felt the divide too. I shudder to think what would have happened if we had kept up the pretense that all was well and went on with the courtship.”
He nodded, “I am glad that we cleared this up on amicable terms, because I—”
Just then, Penelope came into the room, “Alice, I have to—” she jerked to a stop at seeing Benedict and clamped her lips shut. Vivid red raced up her cheeks as she dropped into a curtsey. “—I do apologize for interrupting; I thought you were alone.”
Benedict stood and bowed; the warm affection for Penelope that stamped itself on Benedict’s visage made Alice smile; her nagging suspicions were correct, he adored her sister, much more than he ever did her.
“It is quite all right,” he said kindly.
“I shall leave the two of you be. We can talk when you are finished here,” Penelope spun on her heels.
Alice made to tell her to stay—but knowing what Benedict had come here to say—wanted to take her rejection privately. “Thank you.”
With a flickering smile, Penelope left the room, and Alice took in a bracing breath. She brought her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “You were saying?”
With the knit ball barely in the air, Atticus bolted over the manicured lawn to hunt the toy, his dark coat shimmering under the midmorning sun as he nosed around to find where it had fallen.
Ever since Benedict had told him about breaking the courtship with Alice, he could not concentrate on anything else. The resolve to never marry had been steadily eroding for days now, the dam crumbling at the bottom, and now, Benedict’s decision could damn well shatter it.
“Alice…” he murmured as Atticus dropped the ball at his feet. He lobbied it in the air again and the hound took after it. “ Alice Landon, Duchess of Valhaven…”
The new name slipped smoothly off his tongue.
Not only would she have his name and eventually his child; he would bed her as often and as thoroughly as they wished. He would no longer have to deny his sexual attraction to her; scandal be damned.
There would be no hiding, no hesitation when she was with him. He would introduce her to the true art of submission and allow her to free herself in ways she did not know existed.
The thought of holding her trust, as fragile and delicate as it was, made a strong craving twist his belly. His loins stirred at the thought.
A wet nose pressed on his hand, and he quickly snatched the ball at his feet, throwing it at a distance so he had some time to think.
She was the most headstrong, independent, selfless, tenacious woman he’d ever met... yet he had to admit that he loved that about her. She had all the qualities to make a perfect Duchess and a mother—but there were drawbacks too. He might not sleep another restful wink knowing how apt she was at going off on her own.
“Your Grace?” Pushing aside his musings, Edward gave his full attention to Ramsay as the butler held out a note. “A message arrived, Your Grace. From Mr. Samuel.”
The hairs on the back of his head lifted ominously; Henry Samuel was one of the runners he had hired to keep a cursory eye out on Miss Elizabeth Thorpe and all matters concerning the Thorpe’s; the man was an ex-soldier, and he trusted him to take care of Ton matters at his solid discretion.
If Samuel was sending him a message, it had to be bad. Taking the note, he scanned the brief letter. The hairs shot up on his nape and fury raced up his spine.
“Send for my carriage,” he ordered. “Now.”
Arriving at the back alley behind the London Gazette office, Edward waited until the runner, holding the troublesome Miss in custody, opened the door and shoved her into his carriage.
She had a blindfold over her eyes and her face was twisted in fury. “Whoever you are, I demand you release me at once! I will have you arrested and thrown into prison. My father—”
“Your father is a hen-picked shadow of a man who lost his spine to his wife years ago,” Edward’s icy tone slithered over her as he reached over and pulled the cloth from her eyes.
When her eyes focused and she looked at him—all the color drained from her face. “Y-your Grace—”
“If you dare walk into that newspaper or any other news outlet to spread malicious lies about how your cousin was snubbed by a rich lord, you will find yourself in the worst poison you could ever be in,” Edward warned her. “I will not hesitate to make your life an eternal terror. Do you understand me?”
She licked her lips. “And… and what if I tell them that you kidnapped me?”
Edward almost felt amused. “You have no leverage here. All the mediocre finery you currently enjoy can vanish as soon as I—” he snapped his fingers, “—do that.”
Eliza soured, “Why do you have such loyalty to my impoverished cousins anyway?” She crossed her arms. “They are not worth the roof over their heads and the clothes mother puts on their backs.”
Cold anger turned his insides into ice. “I am loyal to my brother, and if he is marrying into your family, I will make sure no scandal darkens his transition.”
She huffed. Her eyes glimmered with rage, her red lips taking on a malicious curve. “I doubt he will be joining the family. Those two girls are curses; Penelope looks like a pug and ran Rutledge off whilst Alice has no sophistication or grace to be a marchioness.”
Crossing a leg, Edward muttered, “It matters not what qualifications they have or do not; you will not interfere with anything that goes on with either of them or I will not be so generous with you. This is your first and last warning, Elizabeth .”
“How did you know what I intended to do anyway?” she asked, sullenly.
“That is none of your concern,” he muttered. “But I will know if you even think of stepping a toe out of line. Now, on your way.”
He rapped on the door and the footman opened it, pulled the Miss out of his vehicle and she headed off. Edward had no faith that she would listen to him, and soon enough, she would try again, try something again—but what exactly…
“Where to, Your Grace?” his driver asked.
“Whites, please, Jones,” he replied, then reconsidered. “Actually, take me to Purdey & Sons on Princes Street. I have a purchase to make.”
“The gunsmith? Yes, Sir.” Jones snapped the reins. “Right away.”