Chapter Thirty-Six
As soon as she entered the soft-lit room with gentle steps and a quiet, confident purpose, Edmund was struck by a flood of contradictions.
Desire, of course. Always desire. But also, wariness, with a bit of shame and regret mixed in.
There was also hope and concern and a dose of terror.
Mostly, however, he felt a deep, weighted longing.
As though a slim, elegant hand reached into his chest, wrapped around his heart, and pulled him toward her.
He took a step.
The movement caught her attention and she turned to him. In the flicker of a second, he noted the subtle tension pulling at her brow, the firm press of her lips, and the shadow in her gaze.
A jolt of something unnamable shot through him.
Instinct or intuition or basic human need urged him to take another step and extend his hand to her, murmuring thickly, “Come here.”
She did. In long, swift strides she crossed the library. With ease and silent need, she pressed her body to his. He wrapped her in his arms, slipping one hand up into her coiffure to palm her head as she tipped her face.
He intended to take her mouth gently, but the moment his lips touched hers, passion ruled.
He thrust his tongue past her teeth, eliciting a lovely little moan as her hands fisted in his coat.
He savored her taste, seeking every secret of her mouth.
His body hummed, resonating with her warmth and the beat of her heart.
Desire overtook him, and he lifted her against him as he lowered his mouth to her throat.
Her pulse thrummed against his lips and her sigh filled the silence.
With an arch of her spine, she clutched his shoulders and dropped her head back, urging him to taste more of her.
He ran his tongue along her collarbone before suckling at the hollow. Then he lifted her head, bringing her mouth back to his.
This. This was all he needed in the world.
Her in his arms, her taste on his tongue as she responded with desperate abandon.
He didn’t know what had upset her earlier.
All he’d known was that she’d needed him and he’d managed to offer some reprieve from her obvious distress.
And just now, she’d nearly run to his arms. Did she finally know they were a safe place?
Did she finally believe she could trust him?
The thought surged through his heart with the sizzle and boom of a lightning bolt.
An urgent sound issued from her throat as she tilted her head and deepened the kiss, tangling her tongue with his, gasped into his mouth, demanding more.
Something pricked at the back of his mind, insistent and irritating, but he couldn’t be bothered to worry about it.
He didn’t want to think. He wanted her.
“Lord Darlington.”
The sound of his name boomed from across the room—not because it was spoken loudly, but because the tone held undeniable authority and demand.
Alarm and denial shot through Edmund’s heated blood.
Fuck. He’d totally forgotten.
The Marquess of Redington.
He didn’t loosen his arms as he lifted his mouth from Lydia’s. Her eyes remained closed and her breath swift. He wasn’t sure if she realized what was happening or if she was simply ignoring it.
Flicking a glance to the gentleman standing just inside the library, Edmund felt a rush of something terrifying and awful. But he did his best to tamp it down.
Redington was not a man to be trifled with. It was exactly the reason he’d agreed to Lydia’s plan to have her cousin find them. Everyone knew the marquess honored duty and propriety above all else. Redington would protect his cousin—and her reputation—at all costs.
“Release her. Immediately,” the marquess instructed, his tone flat and unhurried.
“The room is occupied,” Edmund drawled, doing his best to play his part. “If you’d give us a moment—”
“I will not.”
Redington strode into the room. His stern, patrician features hardened into sharp angles, and for a moment, Edmund worried for Lydia’s wellbeing with this severe man.
His arms tightened around her.
From the periphery of his vision, he saw her lashes flutter and her eyes open.
Though he did not shift his focus from the marquess, he could feel her staring up at him now.
He could also feel the slow rise of tension in her body.
And damn if he didn’t want to sweep her out of the room and away from her cousin.
Maybe he should.
Just take her away. To somewhere she couldn’t be touched by anyone’s expectations. Where no one could dictate her life or her choices. Someplace where he could protect her freedom and guard her happiness against anyone who might force her into a future she didn’t want.
As his arms tightened involuntarily around her, she shifted. He met her gaze and saw determination glinting back at him. With reluctance, he released his hold on her as she turned in place. Putting her back to him, she faced her cousin with dignity and quiet, graceful strength.
Edmund wanted so badly to take her hand in his. To stand beside her.
Of course he didn’t. But he felt some relief in the fact that she remained close.
“Ralston.” Her voice was firm and calm. “There’s no need for concern.”
The marquess continued forward. His movements were economical and unhurried but undeniably intentioned. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“Of course I do,” she replied with a note of condescension. “Which is why I can assure you there is nothing to worry about. This is nothing,” she asserted with a dismissive wave of her hand as she stepped away from Edmund. “There is no need to make this situation more than it is.”
Edmund curled his fingers into his palm to resist the urge to reach out to her. He knew she was playing to her audience, but the words she spoke still felt like the burning stab of a dagger. He couldn’t help but wonder if she meant it.
But of course, she did.
He may have approached her under false pretenses, but she’d always been honest with him about her intentions. She’d only needed him for experience and knowledge. Nothing more.
“If anyone other than myself had walked in here just now,” the marquess stated, “it would’ve been a hell of a lot more than nothing. The dance alone sparked a wave of scandalous speculation. But this—”
“’E’s right, ye know.”
At the very first note of his mother’s voice, Edmund froze with a full-body clench of muscles as his stomach lurched. He could barely shift his gaze to where Patricia Holt stepped around the marquess’s imposing form, clearly having followed him to the library.
The petite lady, dressed at the height of fashion, gave Edmund a sharp, disapproving scowl. But he could easily detect the glint of ambition and greed in her eyes.
“There’s no gettin’ outta this mess.” A twisted grin split her lips. “Yer gonna have ta come up to snuff, me boy.”
Redington turned to look down his very aristocratic nose at Edmund’s mother and skipped past the pleasantries. “Who are you?”
“I’m Lord Darlington’s mum,” she sneered back at him. “Who the fuck are ye?”
Edmund might’ve laughed at the incredulous expression on the marquess’s face if not for Lydia looking over her shoulder at him with an expression of shock and dismay.
Redington’s jaw clenched impossibly tight as he ignored the question and turned his stare back to his cousin.
“This is getting out of hand already,” Redington declared.
“Lydia, you’re coming with me. We must inform your mother of this…
unfortunate development. Charlotte and Bridget will also need to be collected.
” He flicked a look to Edmund. “You will join us at Redington House for further discussion.” His lips pressed into a line. “Bring your mother.”
Lydia cast another quick glance at Edmund, but her expression was unreadable.
Then she walked sedately across the room to precede her cousin.
His body ached with the urge to go with her.
But that’s not what she wanted. She’d given him clear instruction that once she was with her cousin, his role was finished.
As soon as they were alone, his mother gave a low chortle. “Well, ain’t that somethin’. Looks like we’ll soon be family to a duke. Well done, me boy.”
Edmund nearly lost his supper. Biting the inside of his cheek, he completely ignored her, intending to stride right past her out of the room.
Before he could, her hand flew out with shocking speed to grasp his wrist in a talon-like grip that had her fingernails digging into his skin fiercely enough to draw blood.
Though his heart rate sped, Edmund showed none of his current tumultuous emotions in his expression as he glared down at the woman who’d berated, beaten, and tormented him since the day he was born.
Her features were twisted into an expression he’d seen countless times. “Yer not goin’ anywhere without me, son. I’m along fer the ride this time.”
Edmund shook off her grip, despite the burn of her nails dragging over his skin, and left the room. She followed right at his heels.
All the way through the mansion and out to his carriage, he tried to convince himself to just go home. He could drop his mother off at the house he’d let for her and lock himself in his bedroom to drink himself into a stupor.
Lydia had been very clear that once they were discovered, he was no longer needed for the completion of her plan. She said she’d handle what came after.
But he couldn’t do it.
“Don’tcha even think of runnin’,” his mother warned. “And don’t think of leavin’ me outta this, either. I go with ye or I start spreadin’ tales to whoever will listen. The gel’s reputation wouldn’t last another hour.”
In Edmund’s lifetime, his mother had given him countless reasons to dislike and distrust her. But he’d never hated her as much as he did in that moment as she threatened Lydia.
There was no way in hell he’d abandon Lydia now.
He knew better than to take his mother’s threats lightly. She’d do what she said and more if he didn’t allow her to accompany him.
It was always supposed to be kept between family, after all.
So be it.