Page 14 of The Reclusive Earl’s Scandal (Vows and Vanity #1)
Thornshire House became busier as his mother arranged for Elena’s social integration, inviting over other debutantes, ladies that tried to catch a glimpse of Edward where he hid out in the library and tried not to listen to their questions of his own marital prospects.
Instead, he read, and he pretended like he could simply live out the rest of the Season this way: present, but only at a distance.
He was not afforded that luxury for very long because on the fourth day of his social avoidance, his mother stormed into the library and handed him a cream-colored card that bore a note in fine, elegant script.
Before Edward could read it, his mother spoke.
“I have been lenient with you out of empathy when I saw you were not adjusting as well as I thought you should, but I cannot stand back further. I let you bypass the invitation to Lady Mary Avery’s gathering, and you outright threw Lady Melissa’s invitation into the fireplace, but I cannot let you ignore this one, Edward.
“Her Grace, the Duchess of Bancroft has accepted our request to call upon Lady Rebecca. You know her from childhood, I believe?”
Edward’s teeth ground together. “I do,” he replied and he could not believe his mother had requested such a thing without his knowledge.
“Good. Then she might understand your…” She hesitated.
“Ways. Now, you must dress well and visit her before midday. You have been in Bancroft Manor before, so I do not see why it will be a problem. Lady Rebecca would be a fine match. Word has it that she has received many visitors, so if you do not act now then you will undoubtedly miss your chance. We have wealth and power, as do they, so I can see the potential here.”
She gave him a hard, stern look, before leaving him with the invitation.
It was true he had avoided all other requests, but this one…
this one struck him. He didn’t want Rebecca involved in the scheming and full of strategy ploys, and wished only to have her genuine company amidst the lunacy of the matchmaking, but he hesitated as his finger traced over her name on the card.
If anything, it would be a chance to speak with her without too many eyes on them. Perhaps she wished to laugh once more about her own matchmaking.
Despite the discomfort in his stomach, the fluttering of anxiety that weighed down every step, Edward proceeded to get prepared for the visit.
***
“Lady Rebecca is awaiting you in the drawing room,” The Duchess of Bancroft told Edward, already linking her arm through his mother’s to draw her into the parlor to gossip about the match they thought they were making.
“Thank you, Your Grace.”
Edward gave her a quick nod before striding down the familiar halls.
He had not been there since he was four and ten, the heir to the Thornshire fortune, and on the cusp of anxiety he had only really just started to scratch the surface of.
His father had walked these halls over and over, finding comfort in his friendship with the duke.
Meanwhile, Edward and Rebecca had stolen throughout the various rooms, finding new items to peer at and investigate.
Edward recalled poring over the duke’s collection of essay reports on the part of the skies still being discovered. He wondered how many more essays had been added to that collection.
Voices came from further down the hallway, giggles spilling from an open doorway. Edward heard a sharp, “Master Finley,” in a strict, female voice.
“It was Oliver’s fault, Mrs Maudley!” The voice that responded to the accusation arose in a cry of “was not!” and Edward smiled, vaguely recalling Rebecca’s siblings.
He wasn’t sure how old any of them would be now, but from the bickering, he guessed still quite young as blame was passed back and forth.
He paused, smiling, remembering those days with Elena.
But his attention was tugged away by a low, hissing voice coming from the drawing room up ahead, and a mutter of protest. Edward frowned.
He hastened his steps, pressing back to the wall to stay out of sight, as he heard a man speaking again.
“You promised yourself to me, Rebecca! We—we spoke of a life together. You promised , and now I can see that I was never truly good enough for you. Not with the life you have. Ballrooms and suitors that you have parading yourself around for the attention of. How do you think it makes me feel to hear such things? I must always be quiet. The man in the background who has been fond of you since we were children. I thought it was the same for you.”
“Harry, I… Harry, please step back and let me explain. I must have space. Please .”
Edward stiffened, his hand clenching into a fist. For a moment he didn’t care about his nerves or anxiety—all he heard was the clatter of something knocking over, and he rounded into the drawing room, finding Rebecca shoved hard against the bar that bore several bottles of brandy and a knocked-over tumbler.
A man with short, tight curls and a face that didn’t look as though the anger he showed belonged on it, an expression too sharp and harsh for the soft features he possessed, bore over Rebecca, one hand clamped around her wrist to pin her to the bar.
His mouth was bared in a terrible snarl as he loomed over her, and in Rebecca’s face was pure bone-white fear as she turned her face away from him.
“I am,” she tried, but she sounded more breathless than he’d ever heard her, “I am sorry. I… I cannot truly explain, I...”
“I don’t think you are,” the man whispered, shaking his head. “I think you rather like the attention, Rebecca. Heaven knows I was never enough for you, was I?”
“Harry.” Edward cringed, feeling as though he was intruding on something he had no place overhearing, but then Rebecca was shoved harder against the bar, and she cried out before she clamped a hand over her own mouth.
But Edward was already storming in, towards this man who was hurting his friend, and grabbed the back of his jacket.
Hauling him back, Edward gained the upper hand on surprise alone. He wasn’t a fighter, but he clenched a fist again, staring the other man down.
“I do not know what you want,” he said lowly, “but I suggest you leave Lady Rebecca alone. She sounds clear enough that she does not want your attention at present.” His voice snapped harder than he’d ever let it be.
He had always been a soft-spoken man, always too afraid of speaking too loudly or boldly, but the sound of Rebecca’s cry, made him feel protective.
He looked at her now, finding her cowering against the bar, her shoulders pulled tight.
“Would you like him to leave?”
Rebecca couldn’t meet any of their gazes as she nodded, her face flush with pink.
Edward’s fingers curled into the man’s shoulder, wrenching him back, hard, so he staggered into the center of the drawing room.
Harry rounded on him, but Edward easily sidestepped, grabbing him to push him towards the door.
“ Leave ,” he ordered.
But as the man did, both the duchess and Edward’s mother appeared in the doorway, their eyes wide.
“We heard a...” The duchess broke off, frowning. “Harry? What on Earth are you doing in here?”
“Leaving,” he snapped, looking between the four of them, before he grabbed a book that was left on the arm of a couch. “For my mother.” His muttering rang with bitterness Edward couldn’t shake even when Harry had left the room.
But before he could, the duchess called out to him. “You may see yourself excused for the remainder of the day. Do not come back tomorrow, either. Not until His Grace speaks with your mother.”
Harry’s snarl of anger was loud enough for Rebecca to let out an audible, shaky gasp. They all stared after him, listening to the angry footsteps thundering down the hallway. Slowly, Edward’s mother turned to the duchess.
“Who was that?”
The duchess’s brow furrowed as she swept closer to Rebecca, cupping her face, flitting her hands over her as if checking her for injury.
“That is Harry Maudley. His Grace has employed the same tutor since Rebecca was young, and she still teaches Finley and Oliver. Harry is her son, and he was rather fond of Rebecca at one time. I think she pitied him, though, for she humored him. And now… well, I fear I should have shut down this arrangement a long time ago.”
“Mother,” Rebecca began to protest. “He is not entirely in the wrong...”
“Do not worry,” the duchess said quickly, while Edward still tried to make sense of it all. “He is gone now. Your father will likely not allow him to return, and that is even if we keep Mrs. Maudley on as the boys’ tutor.”
I thought it was the same for you… we had an arrangement. Edward was thinking Harry’s words again.
What had he interrupted, and was it for the better or worse?
Edward cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the other ladies in the room.
Suddenly, his nerves flared deep within him, and he shifted awkwardly.
“It is a lovely day.” His eyes caught Rebecca’s.
“If it would not be improper, perhaps your lady’s maid could accompany us while we stroll through Laketide Park? I believe I passed it on my way over.”
At that, he’d never seen such gratitude in somebody’s face, Rebecca nodded eagerly. “We should do that. I will call for Lottie.”
With her head ducked in what he hoped wasn’t shame, Rebecca fled the room even if she could have had somebody send for her lady’s maid.
Edward nodded once and stepped back to allow her a smooth exit, aware of the mothers’ eyes on him.
He cleared his throat, not knowing what to say or how to navigate the situation.
It was clear something had happened with Rebecca and Harry, but what ?
It wasn’t his place to pry, but perhaps, as her friend, it could be his place to enquire of her well-being.
“The two of us shall stay here,” his mother said. “Providing that is fine with you, Your Grace.”
“Of course. I had some tea prepared ahead of your arrival. We will take it in the parlour.”
With one last warning look at Edward, likely a silent reminder to seize a chance to speak with Rebecca privately, his mother departed with the duchess.
Edward waited until Rebecca finally arrived.
He had not beheld her so disconcerted, her usual assured stance so unexpectedly unsettled, and he didn’t know what else to do except smile tightly and gesture towards the main doors of the house.
“Shall we?”