Page 20 of The Reclusive Earl’s Scandal (Vows and Vanity #1)

Edward had been going stir crazy ever since Rebecca had been taken away from the embankment alongside the river. He had given himself a day to wait for word to come from her, hoping she may have been able to extend correspondence, but when he’d heard nothing, he’d bought her flowers.

He recalled the vase they had once knocked over in their childhood. They had been pink; he remembered that. So he had bought her cherry blossoms in a bouquet, and while he wasn’t well-versed in the language of flowers, the florist had advised him that such flowers could mean renewal .

Edward had thought of that all the way home.

The renewal of their friendship and connection in each other’s lives this Season, the way he hoped to keep in touch with her, no matter what.

He couldn’t stop thinking of the fear paling her face when he’d pulled her from the river. How, for just a brief moment, she had clutched him, fingers wrapping around his forearms. And then how quickly they’d had to pull away—but for that second, Edward’s world had stilled.

However, it had been days, and Edward had been forced to attend the Farrens’ ball, and had hated every minute of it. He’d not stopped looking for Rebecca.

“Do not crowd her,” his mother reminded as they waited to be let into Thornshire House. “And do emphasize how quickly you saved her.”

Edward sent her a scathing look that she pretended not to notice, not when the Duchess of Bancroft waved them inside excitedly.

“Lord Thornshire.” Her voice was bright, her smile a touch too wide. He grimaced, long knowing the methods of matrons who had their eye on a particular suitor for their daughter. But surely the duchess did not see that in him. “Lady Thornshire. How kind of you to call upon Lady Rebecca.”

“Your Grace.” Edward inclined his head.

“Lord Thornshire could simply not stop pestering anybody around him to know how Lady Rebecca’s recovery was going,” his mother laughed, and he looked at her, appalled.

“ Mother ,” he exclaimed.

“I speak only the truth.” She gave him a smug look before they were led upstairs.

“Do excuse your mother,” the duchess urged him as they reached the landing that Rebecca’s room was on.

He found himself recalling it from his younger years, and he swallowed.

A flutter of nerves suddenly pitched in his stomach.

“She wishes for you to receive the rightful praise you deserve. You saved my daughter, Lord Thornshire. We are forever indebted to you. I believe His Grace visited you to discuss an adequate gesture.”

Edward paused an inch away from the closed door of Rebecca’s chamber.

“He did not, but I do not require any gratitude. My thoughts were only on Re—Lady Rebecca.” The silence around him said that his slip-up had not gone unnoticed.

The mothers next to him shared a glance.

In his mind, he was back in the Farrens’ ballroom, Lady Catherine’s grip so hard it was painful, her nails digging in even through the layers of his clothing.

She had changed recently. The faux pleasantries became less and less, and her words got sharper and sharper, almost scolding.

She had criticized his dancing, glared at him when he danced with other ladies he was required to dance with to save face, but whenever he tried to duck away from her, she was always there, steering him right back into her orbit.

Lady Catherine had not witnessed the way he’d stumbled to the terrace during one of his escapes from her company, staggering almost to his knees.

He’d gripped the railing, gasping for air, his anxiety becoming a weight on his chest he’d heaved around.

She was too much, too much , and he couldn’t, or even better he didn’t want to keep up.

A clearing of a throat snapped him back to the hallway in Bancroft Manor.

“You may see her, and we will remain to the far side of the room,” the duchess told him, but she looked ever so happy.

The door opened, and there was Rebecca, tucked into bed sheets.

She was nowhere near as white as she had been in the river.

There was now color in her cheeks, but he could see the dark circles the week of illness had left on her.

For a moment, her gaze turned to him, and his didn’t stray from her, either.

His breath caught, and then he mentally chided himself for being so foolish. He blamed the skip of his heartbeat on the fact that the ball had been endless without her, and he had hid from society for so long that the briefest touch from a lady had his thoughts far too occupied.

He moved forward, aware of the women who entered the room behind him.

“Hello, Lady Rebecca,” he said, and it felt as though he could finally exhale after holding his breath for so long.

Approaching the bed, Edward tried to ignore the feeling in his chest. The feeling that something was happening—something overwhelming and far too big for words and for the situation they were in.

Whatever it was he had to tamper it down.

“Lord Thornshire,” she greeted, her smile already in place. It was weaker than he was used to, but there nonetheless. “You have visited me at last.”

“You waited for me?” he jested, wondering at the way Rebecca settled the nerves in his stomach, replacing the fluttering of them with something akin to butterflies instead.

“Nonsense,” she answered quickly. “I merely needed a friend.”

“I am certain you have plenty.” His brow lifted at her, but she looked away, something dark crossing her face. “Yes?”

“Certainly,” she answered, but it was too quick to be true, he thought. “They are all here. In fact, I should relocate downstairs for more room. There are so many of them.” She gave a small, soft laugh, but despite her jest her eyes were sad.

Edward gave her an uncertain smile, unsure of how to respond. His eyes were drawn to the bundle of gifts on her bedside. He gave another sweeping look around her room, frowning.

“What is it?” Rebecca asked.

“Nothing,” he said, also too quickly to be the truth.

But then he couldn’t help himself. “I… Well, forgive my boldness, but you have plenty of gifts from your suitors, but you have not displayed the flowers I sent for you. And the letter with it was rather touching, I thought.” He crooked a grin at her, masking his hurt.

“I suppose this is the suitors-only table of gifts, and friendly offerings go elsewhere?”

But Rebecca’s confusion that morphed into something he couldn’t decipher, disappointment perhaps, was unexpected.

“I did not receive flowers or a letter from you,” she told him quietly. “And in truth I thought it was upsetting that you did not send any. Lady Mary reported seeing you bringing flowers in the direction of my house, but I had assumed they were for…” She trailed off.

Aware of his mother behind him, hopefully far enough that she couldn’t hear his low, “Lady Catherine? Heavens, no. They were for you. You truly did not receive them?”

Rebecca shook her head carefully, a small pout to her mouth that he found endearing.

Without thinking, he held his hand out, trying not to think about why she wouldn’t have received anything from him.

In his letter, he had written about his growing feelings, calling it ridiculous, asking her if it actually was foolish to think there could be more between them than mere a childhood friendship that extended into adulthood.

“How long has it been since you have stretched your legs, Lady Rebecca?” he asked.

Edward cast a glance behind him to receive a nod of approval. He turned back to her, finding her blinking at him.

“Allow me to promenade with you,” he said, smirking. It was a feigning of a true courting. Would she understand, or merely think he was jesting once more? “Right here, around your room. Stretch your legs. I will support you.”

There was a moment where he once again thought of her body against him in the river.

Did he imagine the catch of her own breath?

Seconds dragged, and Rebecca eventually nodded before she allowed him to guide her out of bed.

Unsteady on her feet, she tried to stand.

Edward steadied her with a grip on her arm, unlike the other day, where he had held her waist. Slowly, they took a turn around the room.

“Oh, look,” she said, nodding to an empty space. “There is Lord Mason and his insistence that my name and his own will be a marvelous combination.”

“And we cannot forget Lady Melissa,” he said, going along with her silliness. “Although, while we cannot forget her, I must avoid her.”

“Why?”

He met her gaze. “I threw her invitation in the fireplace and my mother was most unimpressed.”

Rebecca laughed, until she realized he did not. “Oh, you are serious.”

“Indeed.” He grinned down at her. How was it that she took away his nerves? How did she make him feel like all his anxiety went away? How did she manage to calm the one thing nothing and nobody else had? “Truth be told, I could not stand her.”

That got another laugh out of Rebecca, and it warmed him to know he could do this. He could make her laugh even in bouts of illness. Under the watch of their mothers, Edward walked her around the room again.

“I do not feel as weak as I thought I would,” she noted, rolling her ankles at a momentary pause before they continued. “Thank you for this.”

“Of course,” he answered, all formal and proper. “It has been a long week without you, R—Lady Rebecca.” Again, his slip-up did not go unnoticed.

“Will you humor me with something, Lord Thornshire?”

“Anything.” He realized how it was true even after he answered.

“Lady Catherine,” she began, and he should not have been so surprised. “I have heard rumours that a proposal from you to her is imminent.”

He was so baffled by the declaration that he paused, tugging Rebecca to a stop. Her eyes met his, curious and… and something else. He didn’t want to think it was pained, or dismayed, or anything that showed she might be displeased by the rumor.