Chapter 21 #2
Edmond’s shoulders relaxed, and he let out a soft chuckle. “I suppose you’re right. I had no idea so much had gone missing. Grimshaw was the one who bought everything for Stonehill. I just gave him the funds and told him to make it presentable.”
“Mr. Grimshaw has excellent taste.”
“Grimshaw excels at a great many things. He’s the best teacher I’ve ever had.”
I blinked. “Teacher? I thought he was your butler.”
Edmond flinched, as if realizing too late he had admitted something he hadn’t meant to.
“No secrets,” I said. “Remember?”
Edmond’s gaze softened, and he nodded. “Grimshaw is my butler, at least technically. He’s more my steward.
I hired him because he has more experience with high society than most nobility, having observed it for over fifty years.
I had to learn from someone, and he’s taught me many things—how to bow correctly, how to ride a horse, how to dance.
Everything I didn’t learn at Edinburgh.”
My lips parted as realization struck me. Mrs. Sweete had been right all along.
“The first ball of the season,” I wondered aloud, “when you asked me to dance…”
Edmond rubbed the back of his neck with a sheepish expression. “I stayed up all the night before, memorizing every dance… except the waltz,” he admitted. “It was the only dance that night that required improvisation. Grimshaw hadn’t gotten that far with me yet.”
I gaped. “That old corpse taught you to dance?”
“He’s quite nimble, actually. Even more so with battledore.”
I pulled back, remembering the garden party that nearly cost me my dignity. “Your butler taught you how to play battledore too?”
“I lost sixty-three games to Grimshaw before I managed to win even one,” Edmond said with a wry smile. “But then I never lost. I was nervous when you mentioned we’d play with a net, because I hadn’t practiced with one. I guess I got lucky.”
I shook my head. I had known that Edmond was not born into a privileged life—that was made painfully clear by the man who was just arrested before my eyes. But I hadn’t fully comprehended how much Edmond had to learn in order to blend in.
“Why?” I found myself asking. “Why go through all the trouble of becoming a gentleman? You have the money—you could have gone anywhere, been anyone. Why London?”
He hesitated for a moment, then he took my hand.
My heart stopped, and I stared as his thumb brushed up against my glove.
“Have you ever hated anyone, Helena?”
His words caught me off guard. They were the antithesis of his gentle touch. My only response was a confused stare.
“There are plans I’ve had for years,” he said, “plans I couldn’t achieve unless I had enough funds. There is money to be had in London, Helena. I had no choice but to come here.” He drew in a breath. “The only way to stand against those in power is to become powerful yourself.”
His answer left me with an unpleasant twist in my stomach. I wanted to press for more information, but his fingers laced around mine, causing every word to evaporate from my tongue.
“If I’m being honest,” he said, “I came here for another reason too.”
I stared at our intertwined hands, breathless. It was like every inch of my body had fallen away, and the only part of me that was alive was where he touched me.
“Another reason?” I breathed.
“Yes.” His thumb rubbed the peaks of my knuckles, sending sparks up my arm in hot, brilliant waves. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you—the real reason why I was startled when I saw you across the street.”
“Wait, you mean when you recoiled?”
He suppressed a grin and nodded. “I hadn’t meant to run into you yet. But when I saw you, standing there in person, I—I just wasn’t ready yet.”
“Ready? What are you talking about, Edmond? Are you saying you were looking for me? But—we hadn’t even met yet.”
“I know. There’s an explanation for all of this.
But I promised myself I wouldn’t tell you until you—well, until you said it first.” His summer-green eyes bored into mine.
He was close enough that I could feel the warmth of him against me, could smell the subtle scent of jasmine and soil lingering on his skin.
“But either I am a weak-willed man or an impatient one, and I find myself unable to withhold it anymore. Helena, I—”
The door flung open, and Edmond pulled back immediately, putting a proper amount of space between us as Mrs. Sweete hurried inside.
Curse her timing.
Mrs. Sweete took in my flushed appearance with pursed lips.
“What is it?” I asked.
“The baron is coming,” she said. “I heard his cane from around the corner.”
I pressed a cool hand to my cheek. “We should leave before he gets here.”
Edmond cleared his throat, his ears tinged pink. “Yes, that—that’s a good idea.”
The three of us made to leave, but the baron must have been walking quickly for he stepped into the doorframe, effectively blocking our escape.
“Lord Cranford!” I said with a hasty curtsy.
“Miss Weston, what are you—” His eyes drifted to Edmond and narrowed slightly.
But when he took in Mrs. Sweete, his shoulders visibly relaxed, and he greeted her with a nod.
“Is everything all right? I was starting to worry, but I see the three of you have found some air…” he glanced around “...in a storage closet.”
“Ah, well,” I grasped for words, “the night air can be a bit too brisk for Mrs. Sweete, what with her condition and all.”
Mrs. Sweete’s glare was far from merciful.
“I—I see.” Lord Cranford flushed. “But, if I may ask, what exactly are you doing here, Mr. Hawke?”
“Leaving, actually,” Edmond said. “Forgive my rudeness, Cranford, but something unexpected came up, and I must go.”
“Of course.” The baron’s stare lingered on Edmond for a moment, then he straightened and extended his arm to me. “If Mrs. Sweete is recovered, shall we return to the box? Or, if you prefer, we could view that floral painting in the lobby that depicts an Oxythyrea funesta on one of its blooms.”
Edmond looked at me, something burning behind his eyes. Did he want me to leave with him? If I did, would he tell me the rest of what he was about to say?
I hesitated. I couldn’t very well go with Edmond, not without great insult to the baron.
As much as I wanted to follow Edmond and finish our conversation, I knew I had to tread carefully.
He had not yet said anything of substance, nor had he made any official commitment.
I could not lose what I had for something uncertain. A bird in the hand, and whatnot.
“I’d hate to miss act two.” I took Lord Cranford’s arm with a practiced smile. “Perhaps you can show me that painting after the performance?”
“I’d be honored to.” He turned to Edmond. “Are you sure you have to go?”
“I’m afraid so,” Edmond said, his tone overly formal. “Thank you for the invitation.”
“Any time, truly.” Lord Cranford extended his hand. “You are always welcome.”
Edmond hesitated for only the briefest of moments, then accepted the baron’s handshake. “Enjoy your evening together.”
“I’m sure we will.”
I may have imagined it, but it was as if something unspoken had just passed between the two men.
The baron led Mrs. Sweete and me out of the storage closet. It took all of my willpower not to look over my shoulder at Edmond as the door closed behind us.
The rest of the evening was uneventful, as I imagined married life with Lord Cranford would be.
I smiled at the right times, made polite remarks, and applauded with the proper amount of enthusiasm.
But my fingers itched to brush against Edmond’s again, and I knew all too well that I stood on the precipice of something that could either win me everything—or cause me to lose it all.