Chapter 20
Edward, the Marquess of Worthington, stood by the window of his rented townhouse and watched the rain streak down the glass in rivulets that caught the grey afternoon light.
The fire crackled behind him in the grate, its warmth barely reaching his back, but his thoughts were not on the weather nor the chill in the air.
They were on last evening's soiree, which had been, by any reasonable measure, the most astonishing event of the Season thus far.
Lady Clara, standing in the middle of a crowded room with Lord Atherstone gaping at her and Lord Tyrone practically vibrating with fury, had announced her engagement to Josiah as calmly as if she were commenting on the weather.
Edward had watched from across the room, half hidden behind a pillar and a glass of tepid champagne, and he had thought to himself that he had never in his life seen anything so magnificently brave.
And then he had looked at Lady Alice, who had been standing near her aunt with her hands clasped together and her eyes shining with something that was not quite tears but very close to it, and his heart had done that thing it kept doing in her presence --- that undignified, ungentlemanly, entirely wonderful lurch that left him breathless and foolish and not caring one whit about either.
Moving away from the window, Edward sank into the worn leather of the armchair and rubbed one hand over his face, the familiar scent of tobacco and wood polish filling his nostrils.
He had never intended to become so thoroughly captivated.
When he had first accompanied Josiah to London, his only goal had been to help his friend recover from his broken heart --- a noble pursuit, one that had nothing to do with romance.
At least, not his own. He had imagined a calm, practical courtship for himself.
Someone steady. Someone sensible. Someone who would run his household efficiently and provide him with heirs without causing any great disruption to his comfortable existence.
Lady Alice was none of those things. She was sharp-tongued and quick-witted, unafraid to challenge him when she thought he was wrong --- which, he had discovered, was rather often.
The first time she had corrected him on a point of historical fact, quite publicly and with a smile that told him she was thoroughly enjoying his discomfort, he had been both irritated and impressed in equal measure.
By the third such occasion, he had been utterly besotted.
And the soft brush of her fingers against his when they had accidentally reached for the same book at Lady Hartfield's musicale --- a touch that had sent heat racing up his arm and left him stammering like a schoolboy --- had confirmed what he had already suspected, which was that he was entirely, hopelessly, irretrievably lost.
A knock at the door pulled him from his reverie. He called for entry, his voice rough, and his butler appeared, bearing a letter on a silver tray.
"From Lord Rutland, my lord."
Edward took the letter and broke the seal, scanning the contents quickly.
Josiah was requesting his presence at the Tyrone residence tomorrow.
Lord Thomas was arriving in London and the confrontation they had been building towards was finally at hand.
Josiah's words were brief and direct, but Edward could read the tension beneath them --- and the trust. He was being asked to stand as witness and as friend, and he would not fail in either capacity.
Setting the letter aside, Edward leaned back in his chair and considered, the leather creaking beneath him.
Tomorrow, everything would change. Whatever truth lay behind Lord Tyrone's machinations would be revealed, and Josiah and Lady Clara would finally be free to begin their life together without a shadow hanging over them.
But his mind kept returning to something else entirely --- to Lord Tyrone's behaviour at the soiree.
The way he had spoken of his sister as if she were a parcel to be delivered to Lord Atherstone's door.
The cold authority in his voice when he had said, "I have determined that he is the gentleman you shall marry," as though Clara's wishes were of no more consequence than the arrangement of furniture in a drawing room.
Edward had known men like that --- had sat across from them at dinner tables and in the chambers of Parliament without ever thinking to challenge them. It was simply the way of things among families of standing, and he had accepted it without much thought.
But watching Clara refuse --- watching her stand there, small and dignified and utterly immovable, with her brother looming over her and half the room pretending not to listen --- had stirred something in Edward that he could not quite put back to rest. She had not asked for permission.
She had not waited for someone to rescue her.
She had simply spoken the truth of what she wanted, clearly and without apology, and let the consequences fall where they may.
It had been, he reflected, exactly the sort of thing Lady Alice would have done.
And that thought brought him round to the question he had been circling for weeks now, the one he kept picking up and setting down again like a letter he could not quite bring himself to open.
What was he going to do about Lady Alice?
He had hesitated because the timing was wrong.
She was consumed with helping her cousin and he had been consumed with helping Josiah, and neither of them had the attention to spare for courtship.
But that was not the whole truth, and Edward was honest enough with himself to admit it.
He had hesitated because he was afraid. Afraid that she would laugh at him, or worse, that she would look at him with that sharp, appraising gaze of hers and find him wanting.
Afraid that she would see through his title and his estate and his carefully cultivated composure to the uncertain man beneath, the one who had never quite believed he was equal to the life he had been born into.
But Josiah had been afraid too, and it had not stopped him.
Josiah had endured months of separation, had faced Lord Tyrone's wrath, had weathered Clara's forced letter and his own broken heart, and still his love had not wavered.
If his friend could show such courage, such determination, could Edward do any less?
He stopped by the fireplace, his reflection staring back at him from the mirror above the mantel --- a man he barely recognised, his eyes bright with an emotion he had spent weeks trying to deny.
Tomorrow, he would stand by Josiah's side as the confrontation unfolded.
He would do his duty as a friend and witness.
But when it was over --- when the truth was revealed and everyone's futures were settled --- Edward would find Lady Alice.
He would tell her how he felt. Not with the practised ease of a man proposing a sensible arrangement, but with the stumbling honesty of a man who had been entirely undone by a woman who corrected his historical facts in public and made his heart race with a single accidental touch.
It was, he realised with a small smile tugging at his lips, exactly the sort of reckless romantic gesture he had always told himself he would never make.
Moving to his writing desk, Edward pulled out a sheet of paper and uncorked the ink, the sharp scent of it filling his nostrils. He would write to Josiah first, confirming his attendance tomorrow.
And then he would spend the rest of the evening trying to find the right words to say to Lady Alice. Whatever happened tomorrow, he would not let this chance slip away.