Chapter Seven
Well, Mrs. MacLaren hadn’t completely disappeared.
There was a path through the crowd through which she had apparently pushed, and he just caught sight of her skirts and raven curls as she reached the exit.
Edward leaned to the side slightly, enough to keep her in view as she hurried through the door and out into the night. Anthony came to stand beside him, leaning in a similar fashion to take in the view of the now empty doorway.
“She keeps doing that,” Edward said, utterly baffled, his eyes still trained on the door through which she had just disappeared.
Anthony shrugged, needing no explanation as to what he referred. Of course he didn’t. The entire room had seen her bolt.
“Perhaps she doesn’t fancy you.”
“No, that can’t be it,” Edward scoffed.
Although…could it?
No, surely not.
“You aren’t nearly as charming as you think you are,” Anthony said with a chuckle.
“I used to be,” he muttered.
He’d never questioned his charismatic personality in the past. His ready wit and brilliant smile had gotten him out of more than one scrape. Even one involving the royal guard and a vastly unfortunate misunderstanding with the queen.
But now, damn the woman, she had him questioning everything about himself. And damn himself for enjoying every moment of it.
“You know, I never thought I would say these words to you,” Anthony said, “but perhaps this is not the best time to change your usual inclinations when it comes to courting.”
Edward squinted at his friend, thoroughly confused at the sudden twist in argument. “You despise my usual inclinations. I do not court as a general rule.”
“Exactly. And while I know how you enjoy a good rule-breaking, perhaps just this once you should follow it.”
Edward couldn’t do much more than blink at his friend for a full three seconds before gathering his thoughts enough to respond.
“I beg your pardon. Are you ill? You must be ill. You cannot have possibly just suggested that I cease pursuing a woman when you have spent no less than the last decade of our friendship castigating me for doing that exact thing for any number of what you call ridiculous reasons.”
Anthony grimaced. “I am aware.”
“Then explain,” Edward said, squinting at him suspiciously.
“I am not ill. I am concerned.”
“About what, exactly?”
Anthony shrugged again. “I’m not one to put too much stock in rumors, mind you.
However, if the rumors about your Mrs. MacLaren are true, then she has helped quite a few husbands…
gain their eternal reward, shall we say.
Perhaps she flees due to a guilty conscience.
Whether it is a compulsion she cannot help, some otherworldly curse, or even good old-fashioned rage or greed, you could be very well in danger if you persist in pursuing her. ”
Edward shook his head. “You cannot truly believe what they are saying.”
“I am not saying if I believe it or not, just that the situation bears a touch of caution. And if you have finally decided to court a woman in truth, there are others who would prove less hazardous for your health than your Mrs. MacLaren.”
Edward coughed out a breath. “I confess, you have me truly stunned. An allergy to a woman’s cat is too fantastical for you, but a murderous widow you find a credible excuse.”
Anthony just shrugged again with a self-deprecating grin. “I am simply urging caution.”
“When you usually urge rashness.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“That is exactly what you say. And you have always been wrong. As you are in this case.”
“I hope so, my friend.”
“Wrong about what?” a feminine voice said behind him. “And why is he calling Mrs. MacLaren your Mrs. MacLaren? Who is Mrs. MacLaren?”
Edward closed his eyes in a fleeting grimace and then turned, his most charming smile in place, to greet the woman who had stopped beside them.
“Mother,” he said, trying to make his tone sound much more welcoming than he felt.
Until he glanced over her shoulder and saw the entire entourage milling about behind her.
“Did you leave anyone at home?” he asked, taking in his father, two of his three sisters, and both younger brothers as they wandered about the hall, mostly ignoring the masterpieces on display in favor of socializing.
His mother, unfortunately, ignored nothing. She tilted her head, waiting for him to respond.
“This wouldn’t be…” she glanced about before leaning in closer to mock whisper, “the Mrs. MacLaren, is it?”
Edward cocked an eyebrow. “I have no idea to what you are referring, Mother, but as I am only acquainted with one Mrs. MacLaren, I shall hazard a guess that the answer is yes.”
“Oh dear,” she murmured, then let out a sigh. “Leave it to you to strike up a romance with the one woman in the city from whom I would rather you keep your distance.”
His other eyebrow rose to join the first. “I am quite sure there is more than one woman who fits that description,” he said with a laugh. His mother just pursed her lips with a harumph. “And who said anything about a romance?”
His mother snapped him on the arm with her fan.
“You always were an impertinent young pup. Don’t you go playing the fool with me now.
You’ve been romancing any poor woman with a pulse for more than a decade,” she grumbled.
“Though precious little has come of it. Your father and I would like to leave this existence knowing that our family name, title, and estate are intact, and we’d like to see some grandchildren before we are too old to enjoy them. ”
Edward stifled the urge to rub at his now aching brow. “Mother, you and Father won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. You exaggerate worse than Lord Goodwin.”
She snorted delicately but didn’t look mollified.
“And you already have a whole parcel of grandchildren thanks to Louise, Mary, and Elizabeth.”
His mother let out a long-suffering sigh. “Yes dear, but we need heirs. Which, unfortunately, only you can provide.”
“That’s not true. They come after me,” he said, nodding toward his brothers. “Hugo and Arthur are just as capable as providing heirs as I. They would no doubt be thrilled to be put to the task.”
His mother just stared at him and then called over her shoulder to where her husband stood a few feet away.
“You deal with him, my lord. I do not have the energy to expend any longer.”
His father, George Brelsford, Duke of Haltham, chuckled as he came closer. “My dear, if you have not been able to sway him to your liking yet, I certainly will not be able to.” He stopped at her side and looked Edward over before nodding slightly. With approval, Edward hoped.
“What is the trouble now?” he asked.
“Mother would like more grandchildren, apparently,” Edward said, dryly.
“Yes,” she said, “and I would prefer their mother not be a known murderess.”
Edward’s gaze snapped to her. “Mother! I am shocked you put so much store into idle gossip. Mrs. MacLaren is many things, but a murderess is not one of them.”
The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think about them, and he froze, the implication of what he’d just said reverberating in his mind.
He could only hope his mother hadn’t noticed that he did not immediately protest the possibility that Selena could be the mother of his children.
Could she be? Had that possibility truly crossed his mind? The thought wasn’t causing the usual wave of nausea he typically felt when faced with the possibility of marriage and parenthood. What did that mean? Did he…did he truly mean to court her in earnest?
He thought he actually might.
But he would have to revisit that revelation later. One mother-induced crisis at a time.
“It is not idle gossip, Edward. I have it on good authority from no less than three people who either saw her themselves or know someone who did, in at least two separate countries with at least two different men. Neither of whom were this Mr. MacLaren who also supposedly left her a widow.”
Edward stared at his mother, stunned into silence. For a very brief moment.
“I…” He sighed and gave into the urge to pinch his nose between his fingers before trying again. His father just watched with amused sympathy, tinged with a look of contemplation Edward didn’t like.
“Mother, I cannot speak as to what your friend’s cousin’s wife’s aunt may or may not have seen whilst traipsing about the Continent.
But I do know for certain that Mr. MacLaren did indeed exist and did indeed leave Mrs. MacLaren a widow.
As she is accompanied everywhere by her sister-in-law, Mrs. Haddon.
Mr. MacLaren’s sister. I see no reason why Mrs. Haddon would be part of some strange conspiracy to make Society believe her brother had been married to this woman if he had not indeed wed her. ”
His mother frowned. “I suppose. But that does not explain the rest.”
“The rest is nothing more than idle gossip.”
“Even if that is true, you will be the next Duke of Haltham. Your wife should be above reproach and of impeccable bloodlines.”
Edward shook his head. “She’s a woman, Mother, not a horse.”
His mother snorted softly. “When it comes to matrimony, my son, the conversations are more alike than not. What about Lady Charlotte, the Earl of Craston’s daughter? I’ve heard she’s quite an accomplished embroiderer.”
Edward blinked. “Fascinating.” He shook his head with a tired smile. “I shouldn’t keep you any longer, Mother. You will miss the unveiling of the new statue the Prince Regent had commissioned.”
“Oh, goodness, is it time already? Thank you, Edward.” She half turned to go before glancing back at him. “But this conversation isn’t over.”
He leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Of that, I am painfully aware.”
The sigh he let out as she walked away on the arm of his father, the rest of his siblings trailing after them like ducklings, dragged from the bottom of his soul. He loved his family, dearly. And his parents, unlike some highborn couples, loved their children fiercely and were unashamed to show it.
But there were times when he wished his mother loved him just a little bit less. Or at least was less interested in his life.
“Come along, Lockhaven,” Anthony said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I think you could use a drink.”
Truer words had never been spoken. Though he kept his mouth shut while Goodwin dragged him out into the night and toward the nearest club. His friend certainly didn’t need to be told he might be right. Anthony would enjoy that far too much, and Edward would never hear the end of it.
Still. Despite what he’d said to Anthony, Edward was attuned enough to his own failings that he could admit there was a small percentage of the population who would not find his particular brand of charm…
well, charming. And had it been anyone else, he might consider the possibility that an extreme dislike spurred Mrs. MacLaren’s flights from him.
But she—Selena—was surely not one of them.
Not with the way her eyes flashed when they spoke, the way her cheeks heated when he was ever so subtly inappropriate, the way her breath hitched in her throat whenever they chanced to touch.
No. She was just as taken with him as he with her, he’d stake his fortune on it.
Either that or Anthony was correct, and she was fleeing from his presence for his own good. And he just couldn’t live in a world where Anthony was correct.
His determination to court this woman was something he didn’t want to examine too closely. It went against his very nature. Not only to try and court a woman, but to court one who, judging by her tendency to hastily quit any room containing him, did not wish to be courted.
But those moments before she fled, he was quickly beginning to live for them. So, for better or for worse, he would follow his gut. It had served him well in the past.
He could only hope he wasn’t dooming his future by following it now.