Chapter Eleven
Edward paused outside the door of the salon at Brelsford House, his family’s London residence, and took a deep breath, still bemused by what had just occurred.
He probably should have returned to his own townhouse that he kept not far away.
But his mother expected him to stop in when he was in the neighborhood.
Besides, from the sound of things, his sisters were all visiting and his brothers were likely inside as well.
Hopefully, the chaos that often ensued when they were all together would mask his entrance, and they wouldn’t pay him any mind.
That hope was dashed the moment he walked inside the room, and they all stopped mid-conversation to stare at him. And then they converged.
Though it was difficult to make out exactly what everyone was saying, as they all spoke at once, the gist of the questions flying at him seemed to pertain to his visit with a certain woman. As he had just come from her house, they could only know about it if Anthony—
Edward glanced over to where his friend sat with his brothers stuffing his face with Mrs. Cook’s famous tea cakes.
“Traitor,” he grumbled to him.
Anthony just grinned and shrugged. “My apologies, my lord, but the rarity of what occurred today was so great I simply had to share the astounding news.”
Edward sighed and dropped on one of the sofas. If Anthony thought the mere fact of him calling upon Selena was astounding, he’d need to be revived if he knew what had occurred whilst there. “You have no idea,” Edward mumbled.
Anthony perked up at that. As did his mother.
“Why do you say that?” Anthony prodded.
“I proposed,” Edward said, not really meaning to share that information but unable to keep it inside with his brain still swirly frantically.
The entire room went silent as they all stared at him again.
“You what, dear?” his mother asked. “Did you say you proposed?”
There was a half a second pause before sheer pandemonium erupted, and everyone in the room fired questions at him at once.
Edward finally stood and held up his hands. “Very well, you heathens! Quiet down!”
His mother blinked at him, thoroughly surprised but willing enough, it seemed, to hold her tongue a moment if it meant getting the information she craved.
His sisters grumbled but likewise held their tongues.
His brothers quietly laughed and elbowed each other, their delight at this turn of events evident.
Anthony seemed torn between outrage at being chastised, concern (likely at the thought his friend might now be betrothed to a murderess), and utter euphoria at sheer improbability of what he was about to hear.
Lord, preserve him. Edward dragged a breath in through his nose and rubbed a hand across his now aching forehead.
“I called upon Mrs. MacLaren today,” he said, ignoring his mother’s quick frown. “And, over the course of our conversation, I, apparently, proposed.”
Questions immediately erupted again.
“Why didn’t you tell us you were going to propose?” from his father.
“When is the wedding?” from his brother Hugh.
“Was she very happy?” from one of his sisters.
“How did you ask? Did she weep?” from another sister. Likely Mary. She was the most romantic minded of the bunch.
Finally, his father cleared his throat. “I am assuming the Mrs. means the woman is a widow, and not that you are trying to steal another man’s wife.”
“Of course, Father.”
“I’m not sure I’ve had the pleasure of meeting this girl. Nor her husband, that I recall. MacLaren? MacLaren? Scottish was he?”
“I believe so, yes,” Edward said, belatedly realizing he wasn’t all that sure who Selena’s deceased husband was.
“Why do I know that name?” the duke asked his wife. Who still sat motionless staring at her son.
“That Mrs. MacLaren?” from his mother.
He squinted at her for that remark and held up his hand again. “I cannot hold a reasonable conversation with all of you shouting at me so. To answer the queries I heard…” Well, the ones he would deign to answer at the very least. A few of them, he wouldn’t dignify with a response.
“I did not tell anyone I was going to propose for the simple reason that I had no intention of doing so. It is as much a surprise to me as to all of you. To the lady as well, apparently. Yes, Mother,” he said, turning to her with a disapproving glance, “that Mrs. MacLaren. I do wish you wouldn’t judge her so harshly based on vicious rumors.
Or for the circumstances of her birth, for which she had no choice.
She would make a fine duchess for all that her father is merely a baronet.
For the rest of you, we could have avoided all this nonsense had Lord Goodwin kept his knowledge of my visit to himself. ”
Arthur snorted and elbowed Anthony. “Not likely,” he muttered.
“There is truly nothing to tell,” Edward said, throwing them a glowering look. “There will be no wedding.” He swallowed past the embarrassed disappointment rising in his throat. “The lady refused me.”
That shut them up.
Eight pairs of eyes stared at him in utter astonishment.
“She did what?” his mother finally asked.
He sighed and sat back down. “You heard me correctly. She does not seem inclined, at the moment at least, to agree to a match.”
“Oh dear,” she said, coming to sit beside on him on the sofa to pat his hand awkwardly. “Well, perhaps it is a blessing in disguise. I have heard some troubling things.”
“Now, don’t start on that again, Mother,” Edward said, exasperated beyond endurance.
“Edward, I am your mother, and I love you. I want nothing more than for you to be happy.”
“I’m rather sure our last discussion on this topic centered around your only wish being for me to settle down and start producing heirs. With a suitably noble wife. My happiness was not mentioned that I recall.”
“Oh hush. You always were an impertinent boy. As I was saying, I only wish for your happiness. And, to that end, we might even consider a match with a woman who is not quite of your status if that is what your heart is set upon. However,” she said, before he could seize that offer.
“If even half the tales about this woman have some truth to them…well, I not only have doubts about your future happiness but fear for your safety as well.”
Edward just shook his head and glanced at his father. Surprisingly, instead of siding with Edward in lambasting his mother’s odd fixation on these rumors, his father simply frowned and folded his paper.
“I will admit that what we have heard is concerning, Edward,” his father said.
“I put no stock in rumors under normal circumstances. However, you are my son and my heir, and I would not lightly treat any woman you intended to marry. Any such woman needs to be above reproof and certainly scandal if she is to be your marchioness and someday the next Duchess of Haltham.”
Edward frowned. “I understand that, Father, but the rumors about Mrs. MacLaren are simply that. Unsubstantiated rumors.”
“Perhaps not so unsubstantiated,” his mother said, nodding at his sister who handed her a sheaf of paper.
“What is that?” Edward asked, already dreading the answer.
“A scandal sheet that Lady Brighton brought back with her from the Continent.”
“Oh?” Edward cocked an eyebrow. “Please tell me your source of prejudice against Mrs. MacLaren is not some rag from a foreign country.”
“Edward,” his mother said, sharply enough he looked at her with surprise. “It is true, under normal circumstances I would not come to you with such middling proof. But the coincidences are too great not to share with you if you are going to insist upon continuing your association with this woman.”
“What coincidences, Mother?” he asked, unable to help himself.
“There is a woman purportedly traveling around Europe leaving a trail of dead husbands in her wake. They are calling her the Lady Death.”
“Mother, really,” Edward scoffed, but she held up a hand.
“I know it seems farfetched. But this woman supposedly finds wealthy men, marries them, and then kills them on their wedding day before running off with her inheritance.”
“If she murders them on their wedding day, that doesn’t give her much time to collect an inheritance, let alone run off with it,” he pointed out dryly. “The paperwork alone would take a fortnight.”
His mother ignored that. “She’s been described as a striking woman with raven-black hair and piercing blue eyes,” she said, reading from the scandal sheet in her hand.
And as much as it pained him, that made him pause. Still… “If the person reporting this is informed enough of the circumstances surrounding this woman to describe her, then why do they not merely mention her by name? Why the secrecy?”
“Oh, Edward, really,” his sister Louise said. “They never mention the names. Just as the caricature artists never name those whom they draw. It’s one thing to speculate. All in good fun. It’s another entirely to outright accuse someone. That could start trouble, especially if they were wrong.”
“Judging by the rumors running amok in this town, and the suspicion she is already under because of it, it looks like the speculation has already caused a great deal of trouble for Mrs. MacLaren, whether she’s been named or not,” Edward said, his eyes narrowing.
“It goes on to say,” his mother continued, “that this woman has married men in at least three countries, and disappears almost as soon as they are buried, leaving their grieving families wondering just how much she had to do with their suspicious deaths.”
“Very well,” Edward said cautiously, “I will admit the description, at least, sounds like her. But other than the fact that she is a widow who has traveled more than the average woman, it could be anyone. Or no one. It is nothing but conjecture. We don’t even know if the deaths occurred in the countries in which she lived. ”
“Well, one was in France. Has she lived there?”
“I do not know.” For sure. But judging by her effortless slip into French that day with the horse, he could surmise.