Page 17 of The Reclusive Earl’s Scandal (Vows and Vanity #1)

The day before the Farrens’ ball, Edward and Elena walked alongside the Jubilee River, a heavy rush of water that snaked through one of the parks not too far from Thornshire House.

“I righted my wrongs and agreed to another ball,” Edward sighed. “Will you still not speak to me, Elena?”

His sister gave that stubborn little hmph that she had taken to doing every time he spoke to her.

“Elena.” He pulled authority into his voice, forcing her to stop.

She did, and when she turned to him, her eyes blazed with irritation. “You are ever so inconsiderate. That is why I will not speak to you.”

“I am attending the Farrens’ ball with you tomorrow!” he insisted, their walk along the river halted.

“And have you attended Lady Catherine’s home? Called upon her? Asked her to promenade with you?”

The questions came as a challenge, and Edward narrowed his eyes.

“No, I have not, and I want you to stop pushing. When I find a wife, it will be on my terms. You cannot command my life, little sister.” He softened his voice at that last declaration, worried he was being too hard-spoken.

Elena’s face stilled in shock for a moment before it creased into stubborn ignorance that he knew meant she wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

“Oh, look!” She grasped his arm and pointed further the river path.

Edward’s stomach dipped at an unexpected change, but then his eyes first landed on the auburn hair of Rebecca, the copper strands prettily catching the light.

She looked pale and drawn, nothing like the flushed, laughing girl he had left in Laketide Park several days ago.

Flanking Rebecca was Lady Catherine and Lady Mary and Edward’s eyes narrowed.

Did Rebecca notice the glance Lady Catherine gave her right before she stepped forward, having spotted him?

Aversion to communicating with Lady Catherine curled through Edward, stiffening his muscles, but Elena was already tugging him forward.

“Come,” she ordered, as if she was the eldest. Edward just gaped at her in dismay as he had little choice but to follow.

A muscle in his cheek worked as he went through the process of composing himself.

Before he could even greet Rebecca, Elena swept forward, slipping herself between the duke’s daughter and Lady Mary, urging them aside to look at some flower she feigned spotting.

Edward saw through her tricks immediately as he was left with Lady Catherine. He tore his attention from Rebecca and let it settle on the woman before him instead. He hoped his smile was not the grimace he feared it was.

Hers was already fixed in place, overly wide and almost menacing. Edward didn’t trust it, but he offered his arm regardless. He cringed at Rebecca noticing and quickly looked away.

“Lady Catherine,” he greeted.

“Lord Thornshire,” she returned. “I could not help myself in steering the ladies in your direction when I spotted you from a distance. I had hoped to bump into you, you know, outside the...” She let out a sigh, as if weary, and let out a laugh. “Utter insanity of the ballrooms.”

Edward looked sideways at her. “How strange, for you always seem so comfortable in them.”

Her face froze as if caught out, but she continued on with another laugh.

“How observant! It is true, I do like my balls, but any woman who claims she does not is too modest. Here is a lady’s secret, Lord Thornshire: we love to act demure, but when we grow comfortable with a suitor, we become ourselves. ”

Edward nodded. “And who is yourself, Lady Catherine, if not who I have already met?”

The lady frowned, and fell silent for a moment. She gave another chuckle, but didn’t answer. Instead, she urged him on with their walk. The river rushed alongside them, white foam hitting rocks in the current, and the bank slipped down dangerously, muddy and wet from recent rainfall.

He peered over the edge that fell into the embankment, but up ahead was a small bridge that arched over part of the river before it dipped into a small waterfall.

Behind him, he heard the ladies talking, and he almost ached to be among them, to know what had made Rebecca look so fatigued, to know if she was well.

Instead, he was stuck with Lady Catherine as she gripped his arm a touch too hard.

“Lord Thornshire, if you do not mind me commenting, I am rather disappointed in you.” Although her words had him whipping his head around to look at her in offense, her tone was teasing, yet he ignored that part.

“I really thought you would call upon me. We have bonded so well over these several balls. I was unhappy over your absence at the Ashfordlys’ ball, of course, and I spoke with Lady Elena about it.

She did not divulge a great deal about your absence… ”

The lingering silence said she wanted him to answer for himself, but he was too surprised that his sister hadn’t turned his lack of attendance into gossip fodder, and then he felt bad about expecting such a thing.

He glanced at Elena—yet in doing so, he caught Rebecca’s gaze, and he quickly looked away, but found his gaze returning a moment later. Elena wanted him to pursue Lady Catherine; his mother wanted him to matchmake with Rebecca, and he simply wanted her company.

If he could, he would send everyone in the park away and stroll the pathway with her and catch up on everything they had missed about one another’s lives since childhood.

How had her debutante ball been? What marriage proposals had she turned down?

Did she have a favorite instrument to play?

What was her favorite color to wear, and what flavor of treats did she look for?

Edward surprised himself by even thinking of any of that.

“Well?” Lady Catherine pushed.

Edward snapped his gaze back to her, thinking of a quick excuse. “I… I was ailed.”

“With what?”

He flinched at how she demanded. “A—stomachache.”

Cringing at his own flimsy excuse, he gave a tight smile. But Lady Catherine was not pleased.

Her mouth pinched.

“Perhaps we could join the others,” he offered, trying to diffuse the tension he felt he had caused.

Truthfully, returning to the others might force her to drop her grip on his arm, and he wished for that.

Her closeness brought him too much discomfort, and it was an effort to let his gaze stray to Rebecca.

“Perhaps we should not,” she countered, pulling him along, much the way Elena had.

He hated it and he hated that he was so easily moved and directed.

Edward’s teeth ground together, but he let her pull him along.

He really had to put an end to this; he didn’t like Catherine, and to lead her on would be cruel.

He could not see himself marrying her, despite Elena’s wishes.

Well, who would you marry, then? He imagined his sister asking haughtily, displeased.

Edward turned. The three ladies behind them strolled along at a much leisurely pace. One again, his gaze tangled with Rebecca’s. It was she who looked away this time.

Her , he thought. I would marry Rebecca Sterling.

The thought came to him, bold and courageous, at odds with how he truly felt inside. But he knew his insides only reflected his lack of desire to marry Lady Catherine and spend the rest of his life with a woman whom he truly could not imagine doing it with.

However, Rebecca had made it clear she had a specific strategy, a ploy that she was working to her advantage.

Was Edward powerful enough? Wealthy enough?

Was he the sort of man she was looking for, and if so, why had she agreed to keep their connection purely platonic as well?

Her ambition drove her, he could see that clearly, but what would she say if he proposed to her?

He tormented himself over the questions long enough that Lady Catherine gripped his arm tighter, drawing his attention back.

“Honestly, Lord Thornshire, you do not wish to trouble yourself with the others,” she said.

“I humor Lady Mary because I feel sorry for her, but she is… well, rather meek, I suppose, would be a nicer way to put it. And Lady Rebecca… well, I am certain you know of her activities throughout the ballroom.”

She winced as if it pained her to betray her friend in such a way, but Edward could not be fooled.

“No,” he said, feigning innocence. “I am certain I do not know.”

“I do not want to accuse her or anything, nor call her any terrible names, of course, but…” Lady Catherine inhaled through her teeth. “She has made a reputation for herself. And then there is the Harry Maudley business.”

Her pause was so heavy that he realized she had intended to incite surprise, to coax him to be interested.

This is a test , he realized. She is trying to see if I feel anything for Rebecca.

She didn’t expect him to know enough about Mr. Maudley, but the way she dropped it into the conversation made him suspicious.

How had a commoner learned of Rebecca’s ballroom activities, anyway?

“Well,” he said, “I am certain Lady Rebecca’s business is her own, and certainly not mine.”

“Indeed, it is not.” Her answer was demure enough, but it snapped harshly, and Edward felt warned. He nodded silently. He wanted to say something regarding her harsher words about her supposed friends, but he couldn’t stop wondering if Rebecca knew how Lady Catherine felt about Lady Mary and her.

Lady Catherine made a disapproving sound in her throat the longer they walked in silence. “I do hate when you do not speak.”

Edward tensed. “I did not realise we were familiar enough for you to have an opinion on such a thing.”

“Well, I hate silences,” she said, the pretty, overdone softness to her voice slipping into something much more pointed. “Speak to me. Why do you not?”

“I simply do not have anything to say.” He frowned, catching her eye.

In the back of his mind, he thought of Rebecca’s gentle statement from several days ago.

I find the significance in the ability to walk in silence with somebody.

Heavens, he knew he should not be thinking of her in comparison to a woman his sister wanted him to marry, but he couldn’t quite wrangle his thoughts into shape.

“A shame.” Lady Catherine’s mouth pressed into a grim line. “We are but strangers. There should be a thousand things you wish to know about me.”

“Of course,” he muttered, yet he never asked anything else, and he cringed at Lady Catherine’s annoyed, rough noise in her throat. But he was saved by the fact that they had arrived at the small bridge that he had spotted earlier.

The pause when he pulled away from Lady Catherine allowed the three others to catch up to them.

He tried not to notice how Elena frowned between Lady Catherine and him, looking towards him questioningly.

Edward rested his palms on the bridge, bracing himself as he gazed out at the view.

The river rushed below, the river pathways stretching on and on.

The water was murkier than he would have liked, yet the view was still rather beautiful.

Further down, dragonflies buzzed over the surface of the water, skimming the river, and sprouts of river grass spiked up.

“I do not see the appeal of looking out at a view we have just wandered past,” Lady Catherine complained, but Edward ignored her, keeping his eyes on the expanse of water and pathway before him.

His eyes closed, looking away from the group of ladies adjacent to the back of him, standing off to one side of the bridge.

He inhaled fresh air into his lungs. As a man who had shut himself away for so long, who haunted the same four walls day in, day out, trapped out of fear and desire borne from that fear, the fresh air was comforting.

It reminded him that he was more than an earl who suffered with these bouts of panic.

It reminded him just that he was more in general.

It reminded him that he was alive, and he could get out, and he could survive his own mind and nerves.

He stiffened when the rustle of skirts interrupted him, and he braced himself for more of Lady Catherine’s complaining, but it was Rebecca who spoke, surprising him. Still, he kept his eyes closed for a minute.

“Lord Thornshire,” she greeted, more formal with the ears nearby.

“Lady Rebecca,” he returned, his mouth quirking. He didn’t know if she saw the smile, but he simply felt it anyway. “How are you?”

“I am well.”

“Are you?”

The silence between them thickened, not uncomfortable, but thoughtful. Eventually, Edward opened his eyes, finding Rebecca’s eyes fixed on the rushing river ahead. Her head was lifted as if she held herself together.

“Are you?” he asked again, softer this time.

She nodded, turning to him, and her smile was the same one he had seen her give her suitors on dance floors when they asked if she enjoyed her dance with them and she had not.

“Come now,” he urged gently. “I know we have not seen each other for many years, but with my prior knowledge of you combined with my current, growing intelligence, I do believe I know you slightly better than to receive a fake smile.”

“Who says it is fake?”

“I do. And I do not think enough people notice.”

Rebecca blinked, surprised. Her lips parted as if she tried to speak, but could not decide on what to say.

In the end, she said nothing, and Edward let it drop.

Together, they both looked out at the view.

He was aware of the murmurings of the ladies to the side, and he didn’t even let himself wonder what his sister or Lady Catherine thought.

“I think the view is beautiful,” Rebecca murmured after a few moments, a private observation just for them.

“As do I,” he answered softly.

For a moment, he felt the brush of something against his hand where it rested on the wooden bench, but right as he realized it was Rebecca’s own hand, and he opened his eyes, he heard a loud crack . A scream split the peace, and Edward reached out on instinct without even realizing.

His fingers shot out for Rebecca as she fell, the edge of the bridge cracking beneath her. His fingers snagged around air. He was too late, and Rebecca tumbled into the river below with another cry and a blur of lavender skirts.

“ Rebecca ,” he shouted, forgoing all propriety, even in public, through his panic. But she didn’t surface, not after one moment, or another, and he tore off his tailcoat, yanked off his waistcoat, and dived right in after her.

The last thing he heard was both Elena’s and Lady Catherine’s astounded shouts to him.