Chapter Eighteen
Edward frowned. “What—”
They both jumped when the door opened and Selena’s mother bustled in, Mrs. Haddon right on her heels looking very apologetic.
“All right you two,” Lady Griffiths said. “There will be plenty of time to hide away together once you are wed. For now, we have so much to do!”
The rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of planning, paperwork, and preparations that had his head spinning. Lady Griffiths was more organized than a general with his troops. Edward had no trouble believing that the woman had hosted a wedding or two—or possibly three?—in the past.
What had Selena been about to tell him when they were interrupted?
They hadn’t had another opportunity to be alone since those brief moments when she had finally begun to open up.
And while he was glad she had told him about Mr. Albescu, he could have sworn she was preparing to tell him about yet another husband.
Had she truly buried three husbands already?
The thought gave him pause. He didn’t like that it did, but…
there you have it. He couldn’t very well stop his thoughts from running off any more than he could stop Lady Griffiths from finally shooing him away so they could head to the modiste’s for an emergency trousseau.
His objections that all Selena’s needs would be met—and could be dealt with after the wedding—fell on deaf ears.
He had not seen hide nor hair of his betrothed since.
He had spent the last several days preparing for their impending nuptials himself, so he did not think she was avoiding him.
But now that he had a common license in hand and all necessary paperwork had been drawn up and signed to his solicitor’s satisfaction, his part was done.
All that was left to do was to show up at the chapel at the appointed time and day.
Which left far too many hours of the day to brood.
“You’re getting broody,” Anthony said.
Damn the man for always knowing exactly what Edward was thinking.
Edward squinted at him accusingly before downing what was left in his glass and pouring what was left in the bottle of brandy they had requested be left at their table into their glasses.
Their favorite club was usually bustling at this time in the evening, but the crowd was thankfully sparce tonight. Edward didn’t think he could handle any more scrutiny than he was already receiving from his best friend.
“I am not broody,” he grumbled into his glass.
“Yes, you are. That is your broody face. It usually prefaces you doing something unbelievably ill-advised. Like riding through Kensington Park without a stitch on—”
“It was the middle of the night. No one saw me. And I was hardly more than a boy.”
“You were nearly twenty!”
“As I said.” Edward took another drink.
“Very well. How about trying to steal the queen’s zebra?”
Edward shrugged. “He looked lonely.”
“And stealing that painting from the museum?”
“I didn’t technically steal that. It belongs to my family. I just…took it back.”
“Without permission or anyone’s knowledge,” Anthony pointed out.
“I put it back. Must you always spoil things?”
That damned eyebrow quirked up again. “That seems a question better asked of you, my lord.”
“Oh?” Edward asked, cocking his own brow. Two could play at that game.
“Hmm. You are rather an expert when it comes to spoiling things. At least when speaking of sabotaging another potential match.”
Edward scowled at him and took another welcome gulp of brandy, savoring the smooth warmth as it slid down his throat.
Anthony leaned over the table, letting his glass dangle from the rest of his fingers as he pointed to Edward.
“Only this time it would be so much worse because you have already proposed to the poor woman. It may not have been announced, and there will be no banns thanks to the license that was apparently necessary, but the contracts are signed and both families are agreed. You’re stuck this time, mate. There is no sabotaging this one.”
“I am not stuck. Not,” he hurried to add at Anthony’s raised brows, “that I have any intention of sabotaging anything.”
Anthony slowly nodded. “But…”
Edward’s scowl deepened. Then he let out a sharp breath. “Very well, if you must know, yes, I am having a few second thoughts. Not enough to call off the engagement. I would never do that to her,” he said, sitting back in his chair while he frowned down at the glass in his hand.
“But…” Anthony prompted again.
He really was quite the nuisance this evening.
“She finally divulged a small bit about her past. A very small bit.”
Anthony’s eyebrow quirked up again. “And it was enough to put that look on your face?”
Edward didn’t answer for a moment but sat rubbing a finger along the rim of his glass while his mind whirled. Anthony, for once, waited patiently. Finally, Edward could stand the silence no longer.
“I have long since been informed that she had been widowed more than once. And it did not give me much pause. These things happen, and she can hardly bear the blame for it.”
“Well, she could,” Anthony said with a teasing smile. “She certainly wouldn’t be the first woman to hasten a man to his grave. That is the rumor making the rounds, is it not?”
“Yes,” Edward grumbled.
Anthony’s eyes widened and he set down his glass. “Are you giving credence to those rumors now?”
Edward did not answer immediately, and Anthony pursed his lips.
“I am torn. On the one hand, I would be a poor friend, indeed, if I were not at least somewhat concerned that you are betrothed to a woman who may or may not have a few homicidal proclivities. On the other hand, rumors aside, she seems a perfectly lovely woman who is not only willing to tolerate your presence but actually seems to enjoy your company. A rare find, to be sure. And you seem poised to sabotage yourself yet again.”
Edward opened his mouth to speak but Anthony cut him off before he could. “Do not point to all the other women who have thrown themselves at you over the years because we both know they were throwing themselves at your title and bank account. Not you.”
Well, that was painfully true. Edward knocked back the last bit of brandy in his glass.
“This woman actually seems to care for you,” Anthony said, the amount of confusion in his voice more than a little insulting.
“As a man in your station, surely even you are aware that finding a woman who cares more for you than what the match can bring her is a rarity. As your friend, I could want nothing more for you. Providing, of course, she is not actually a murderess making you here next target.”
“Of course,” Edward said, rolling his eyes.
“And here you sit, ready to throw it all away over a rumor.”
“I am not throwing anything away. I have told you, I care deeply for Selena. I would never do something so callous.”
“I’m not judging,” Anthony said. “Quite the opposite. If I were in your position, I would have run long ago. But then I do tend to put too much stock into the latest gossip. However, you are not me. So then why are you sitting here with your brow furrowed drowning your angst in a bottle of brandy?”
Edward snorted. “Perhaps I am contemplating my fate should the rumors prove to be true.”
Anthony shook his head with an indulgent smile. “I suppose I should be grateful she does not have a cat or doesn’t seem overly fond of the color orange, or you would have disappeared from her sight long ago.”
That put the scowl back on Edward’s face and made Anthony chuckle in earnest.
“Come now, what has transpired since I last saw you to put you in such a mood?”
Edward tilted his glass against the table, watching the way the candlelight caught the last few drops of amber liquid inside. “We spoke this afternoon. She has been trying to tell me something important for weeks now. And it seems the rumors are at least partially true.”
Anthony’s eyes widened again. “Not the murdering bit—”
“No.” Edward snorted faintly again. “At least…I hope not.” He shook his head. “No, she admitted Mr. MacLaren was not her first husband. And that her previous husband, a Mr. Marius Albescu, also left her a widow.” He looked up and held Anthony’s gaze. “On their wedding night.”
His friend sat back with a sharp exultation of air. “Well. I must admit, two husbands dead on their weddings nights is a pretty strong coincidence.”
“Yes,” Edward said. “As was the speed with which she wed them. Though, I might even be able to overlook all that. After all, assuming she was not the one hastening their ends, she could hardly be faulted for what occurred. In fact, she should be pitied.”
“But?”
Anthony always knew when there was a but.
“But…I am fairly certain she was about to tell me there had been yet another husband.”
For once, Anthony sat in stunned silence. Though unfortunately, not for long.
“Are you certain? A third dead husband?”
“No,” Edward said, scrubbing his hand over his face.
“Perhaps? I am not certain. She started to say something that she was obviously reluctant to share. But I did get that distinct impression. It could have been something else. Or perhaps she had been married a third time, but it had been annulled or…” He threw up his hands. “I do not know. That is the problem.”
“Would it make a difference if that had been what she was about to say?”
Edward sighed again. “I do not know. That is the problem,” he said again.
Anthony blew out a breath. “Is she to be pitied? Or is she to be feared?”
“At the risk of repeating myself for a third time,” Edward said with a wry smile.
Anthony chuckled. “You do not know, that is the problem.”
“Yes.” Edward slumped down in the chair far enough that he could lay his head against the back and stare up at the ornate ceiling. He had been so happy only a few hours earlier. And now…
“Edward.”
He moved his head so he could look at Anthony, though he didn’t lift his head.
“The wedding is tomorrow.”
He moved his head back. “I know.”
“If you were to call it off now…”
Edward sighed and sat up, his hand gripping around the glass so tightly he was surprised it didn’t break. “I know.”
He couldn’t do that to her. The gossip mill was already churning about her, it was true. But if he were to abandon her days before their wedding, her reputation would never recover.
“If she were to call it off…” Anthony started.
“No, Goodwin. I cannot spend weeks trying to convince her to marry me only to insist she cry off days before. And I do not wish to.”
“If your life is in danger…”
“My life is not in danger.”
“Are you certain?” Anthony insisted. “Isn’t it better to err on the side of caution? People would talk, yes. But it would be assumed the fault lay with you, not with her. A small but important distinction.”
Edward scrubbed his hands over his face. “I love her, Anthony. That is all I know.”
Anthony smiled. “And that is all that matters then, is it not? However, perhaps it would be wise to speak with the lady again. Orchestrate an opportunity if you must. But sit down and speak with her. At length. Until you have both said all that is needed to say.”
Edward nodded his head slowly. He needed to find out what she had been about to say. And he needed to figure out if it mattered.
That he harbored even a shred of doubt that these rumors might be true made his stomach feel as though it were filled with lead.
If they were, if her husbands had met their end at her hands?
He sighed. The more rational part of him knew that the fact he was even thinking about such a thing meant he thought there could be truth to the rumors.
And what did that say about him, or her, that something so dire was beginning to seem more possible by the day?
But a large part of him, the biggest part, did not care. Wanted to wed her and let her do her worst. He wanted to be her husband. Whether that lasted fifty years or fifty seconds. If he found death in her arms…well. At least he would die a happy man. There were a good number of worse ways to die.
He stood with a frustrated growl.
“Enough of this. I will find out what is going on one way or the other.”
Anthony grabbed his arm before he could march for the exit. “Where do you go?”
Edward glanced out the window at the darkened streets. Night had fallen while he’d been wallowing in his drink.
“I am going to speak to my lady and discover once and for all the truth.”
He retrieved his hat, gloves, and coat and pulled them on before stepping out into the street, Anthony right on his heels.
“And if the rumors are true?”
Edward glanced at him over his shoulder. “Then I guess we shall find out who I love more. Her, or myself.”
Though he was fairly sure he already knew the answer to that question.