Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
Rose was stunned by the revelation. Lydia had never mentioned such a thing, and Rose was starting to believe she knew Edmund better than his own sister, which made her feel guilty.
But there was something else as well, a niggling thought at the back of her mind. It revealed itself slowly, but when it did, she could not resist asking him about it.
“Edmund… Lydia told me that before Charlotte met Nathaniel, she was never going to marry.”
“Yes? What of it? Are you surprised that there is a woman who once thought as you did?” he replied brusquely, but she was not put off by the aggressive tone of his voice.
“No, not at all. It’s just… if you never expected her to marry, does that mean you would have stayed in London forever to ensure that she had a secure life?”
Edmund turned slowly and met her gaze. There was something formidable and terrifying about him in that moment, not because he was threatening, but because there was a sense of power about him, as though he could command the sky to fall like a god.
Breath filled her lungs, and she could feel her heart thumping against her ribs.
Her skin tingled, as though all of her nerves were being touched at once.
It didn’t help that she had been fighting with her own mind ever since they had fallen in the lake.
The way Edmund’s hands nestled around her waist felt far too natural, his breath had tickled her neck, and the way their bodies pressed together, even just for a moment, made the world shift.
And then he took off his jacket. His white shirt clung to his body.
The water made it thinner, giving her a good idea of the muscles beneath.
Unlike the subject in the painting at the Royal Academy, Edmund had a thick bed of hair that was visible beneath his shirt.
A strange, unfamiliar kind of hunger gnawed in the pit of her stomach, though as it pulsed inside her, she thought it ran even deeper than that.
He had a strong neck, powerful arms, and try as she might, she couldn’t prevent her heart from fluttering.
“A brother must take care of his sisters,” he replied, his voice low and flat. Something about it made her go weak at the knees.
“Even at cost to himself?”
“I have never been allowed to be selfish,” he said, although even as he said this, there seemed to be something he was holding back.
He turned toward her, dominating her vision.
“I tire of this conversation, but I need you to promise me you will be discreet about this. Lydia is sensitive and will not take kindly to the news that I intend to leave London. I know she is your friend, but I must ask you to keep this secret. Can you do that?”
His eyes seemed to glare at her, and she shuddered as the air began to tremble around her.
The skies were still clear, but it felt as though a great storm was about to erupt.
Her breaths were halting and deep, and as she wilted under his vision, she had the thought that she would have done anything he asked in that moment, as though she were his slave.
It was a most uncanny feeling, and even as she was aware of it possessing her, she could do nothing to guard herself against it.
“You have my word,” she said in a breathy whisper.
He reached up and brushed a stray lock of hair away from her cheek. She leaned into his touch, a burst of warmth that flooded her skin and pushed away the lingering chill of the lake’s water.
“You have grass in your hair,” he said. His fingers moved deftly through her thick locks and pulled out blades of grass, which he dropped. They floated to the ground. For a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her.
For a moment, she wanted him to kiss her.
She couldn’t take her eyes off him, and it was even more intense than when they had been standing together in the copse of trees at the park. Now she could only think about his hand around her waist, about the two lovers, standing in a meadow of flowers, ready to embrace love.
Why had she come here without a chaperone? Was it truly to test him, or was she testing herself?
If so, then she was failing badly.
Her lips parted, and her body arched toward him. It seemed like there was only one way this could end, and she would damn herself because the sensation was so intense she could not resist. Maybe Lydia was right after all. Maybe this man…
“We should leave.” The words were like a whip, snapping her out of whatever spell had addled her mind. He stepped back, and she breathed easily again. She put a hand to her head and massaged her temples, trying to bring herself back to some kind of normality.
What has come over me? What strange force has possessed me?
Perhaps it was the flowers, or maybe she was beginning to get ill from sitting in damp clothes.
There had to be some kind of rational explanation for her acting so irrationally, because it couldn’t be Edmund.
Surely it couldn’t be Edmund. He was just a man, and she had sworn never to give herself to a man.
“It is getting late,” she agreed.
They returned to the horses and mounted them.
This time, there was no suggestion of a race.
They rode at a good pace, although it fell short of a full-throttled gallop.
It did help dry Rose’s dress, although she felt troubled by the lingering feelings that didn’t seem to leave her churning stomach or fluttering heart.
She kept glancing around at Edmund, admiring his form on the horse, his powerful build and broad shoulders, as well as the determined expression on his face.
He wasn’t as carefree as she first thought.
He wasn’t reckless at all. He cared deeply about his sisters to the point that he was willing to sacrifice something he wanted for their sake, and had been willing to do so for all his life.
But did he want thanks for this? Did he want glory?
No, not at all. Instead, he was happy for everyone else to think that he was an irresponsible cad.
Now she knew better.
They returned to where the carriages waited.
Edmund had a box for his horses. They dismounted, and Edmund walked Rose to her carriage.
She clasped her hands tightly together in an attempt to still her pounding heart.
A wave of unease washed over her and threatened to leave her unmoored, but she dared not fall because he would only gallantly catch her again, and then she would be in all kinds of trouble.
“We only have two more promenades, Rose. I will make sure to make them count,” he said, and gave her a rakish smile that undid something within her.
In a fleeting moment, she reflected on everything she had learned about Edmund.
Previously, she thought she had a clear picture of the man, based on Lydia’s description and Edmund’s reputation in society.
However, there was another side of him that she had only seen when spending time with him like this.
It was a darker, brooding side, one that seemed to be in pain. There were still things he wasn’t telling her, but he had revealed enough to show that he was wounded, and she could not ignore this at all.
So, before she left, she rolled forward on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. It was a light brush of her lips, and as soon as she did it, she wondered if it had been a mistake.
Edmund lifted his hand and placed it where she had just kissed.
“Farewell, Edmund,” she said, before entering her carriage.
“Farewell,” he replied. It was the last thing she heard before the door slammed shut. Edmund stood there, his expression unreadable, staring at the carriage with his hand still pressed upon his cheek.
Rose tore her gaze away from him and then wrung her hands together. She gnawed on her lower lip. The day had been a disaster and a triumph in equal measure, leaving her unsure how to feel.
In some ways, she felt as though she had made a fool of herself, and in others, she was glad that she had gotten him to reveal some of his secrets.
But no matter how she felt, at least she knew one thing for certain. This was not going to end in marriage. He planned to leave London. She was going to get what she wanted: a life of independence and liberty. She would never have to see Edmund again after two more promenades.
Only, suddenly, that didn’t seem to be quite as appealing a prospect as it once did.