Page 22 of The Reclusive Earl’s Scandal (Vows and Vanity #1)

Rebecca’s thoughts hadn’t stopped flurrying ever since she had suggested her idea to Edward in her bedchamber, watched over by their mothers.

Marriage, one of convenience, at least. Now, standing in the greeting line at the Balkans’ townhouse, she felt rather nervous.

At the time of her suggestion, she had been bold, confident, but now that had all drained away.

At her side, her mother and father guided her onwards, taking over the actual greeting with the marquess and marchioness.

As they spoke, Rebecca kept an eye out for Edward, but if he was there then he had already headed into the ballroom.

Her eagerness had her hurrying into the ballroom as soon as her parents were released from Lord and Lady Balkan’s attention.

In her gown of gossamer in a deep green color which she had happened to learn was a color of the Thornshire, hoping to send a message before one was truly announced, Rebecca approached the balustrade and looked over the expanse of the dance floor and space beyond.

She scanned the faces there, immediately finding Catherine and Mary hovering near a tall, thin pillar as they watched the suitors file in and out of the ballroom. They were already deep in conversation, the two looking to be whispering about who bypassed them.

Hopeful, Rebecca looked for Edward. Would tonight be their announcement night?

Would they host their own betrothal ball like this one?

Did he look for her, too? Rebecca still hadn’t fully recovered from her week of illness after falling into the river, but she knew that the deep exhaustion in her bones wasn’t only from the illness; it was from her sheer fatigue of searching for a suitor.

Of the endless dances and attempts to charm every suitable gentleman.

She wasn’t interested in any of them, she only wanted to remain comfortable and provided for, and she believed she had found that in Edward.

No longer did she want to dance around the floor with more strangers and men who thought boasting about their business ventures and acquaintances was the highlight of their whole conversation.

And although Edward remained her friend, she thought his company was the best she had been in all Season.

Surprisingly, Rebecca felt ready to commit to him.

He made her feel comfortable, safe. And she could admit that he was very handsome, with that dark hair that he had grown longer than most lords, as if it was a small rebellious streak due to the fact that he had secluded himself for so long in the countryside.

Descending into the ballroom with her chin lifted proudly, Rebecca was ready to find Edward and announce their betrothal, or at least begin circulating the fact of it.

But before she could spot him, she was met with Mary and Catherine instead.

The two of them linked their arms through hers, tugging her to the side.

“Rebecca!” Catherine cried happily. “It is so good to see you back on your feet.”

Rebecca looked back at her friend, weary. She thought once more of Edward asking how genuine Catherine was with him, and a pang of sympathy went through her for him, for Catherine didn’t sound at all pleased about her being back in a ballroom.

Still, Rebecca smiled, and she maintained her pretence.

“It was lovely of Mary to come and visit me during my week of illness,” she noted gently, wincing when Catherine’s face hardened into a scowl that quickly smoothed into faux pleasantness. “Although, I would have liked to see you too, Catherine. After all, you were there when I fell.”

Catherine… She is very jealous. She told me that she wishes she had been the one to fall into the river.

Rebecca’s eyes flicked over Mary, recalling her friend’s words, before settling back on Catherine. The cracks she had already begun to see were widening, deepening. How had she never seen it all before?

“You must have heard I have been rather occupied,” Catherine said, ever so nonchalantly.

“You see, I am certain any day now Lord Thornshire well…” She gave a soft, quiet hum.

“I do not want to jinx it, but I believe I remain in good standing with him. I know he is your friend, Rebecca, but surely you wish for the best for two of your friends.”

“Indeed, I do,” Rebecca answered, not trusting her friend with her true plans. “I never suggested otherwise, Catherine.”

Her own words held a similar edge to her friend’s, and it was clear Catherine had not expected the challenge. She snapped her mouth closed before laughing, too high, too false. Rebecca only watched Catherine.

“I am only happy for myself,” Catherine sniffed. “I had a bad Season last year. This year has proven far more prosperous. I cannot believe Lord Thornshire has chosen me , of all the eligible ladies in the ton .”

“Has he truly, though?” Mary asked, and Rebecca was glad she did. “After all, he has not truly professed anything to you.”

Catherine set a narrowed glare that went between them both. “ Yes , I am sure,” she snapped.

Rebecca herself kept her mouth shut, for she was now learning not to trust Catherine, at least not like she once had. She still had not confirmed it was her who had gotten Harry Maudley involved in her ton business, but her suspicions were increasing by the day.

Catherine fixed them both with one more glare before she turned away sharply, sauntering off.

As she did, Rebecca looked out at the ballroom, and her eyes clapped on Edward himself.

He stood across the room, his eyes already fixed on her.

As soon as her stare met his, her heart skipped a beat.

Her breath caught, and she felt the excitement surge through her, knowing she might end the night as a betrothed woman.

But the butterflies didn’t lessen. If anything, the longer she held the earl’s gaze, the butterflies in her only grew.

She dismissed them quickly. It was purely only her excitement and elation at knowing she would be able to stop desperately trying to win the favor of every lord she came across.

While Catherine drifted over to her parents, no doubt to discuss the particulars of the betrothal she thought would be happening for her soon, Rebecca walked across the ballroom while no eyes lingered too long on her.

Soon, she had drifted to Edward’s side, and the two exchanged a glance and then a nervous laugh.

“Hello,” she greeted.

“Good evening,” he answered, looking away from her, down to the floor, and then outwards at the ballroom.

“Are you nervous, Lord Thornshire?” Rebecca jested, lifting a brow at him, giggling.

“Never,” he answered without hesitation. “I daresay, you are not, are you?”

“I am the most confident woman at this ball,” she told him, but it tasted like a lovely lie, really.

“Oh, really?” He asked, his brow twitching.

Rebecca only laughed in return.

“How are you feeling?” Edward asked after a moment. Together, they both looked out at the ballroom, as if they were too shy to actually regard one another. “You have had quite the week.”

“Indeed,” she agreed. “But I am feeling much better now. Besides, even if I did not I would be here. My mother only granted me an excuse from the last ball. I fear she would have chased me out of the house to attend this ball regardless.”

“Nonsense,” Edward muttered. “If you are sick then you are sick. There cannot be any help with such a thing.”

“Do tell my mother that the next time you see her,” Rebecca muttered, thinking of her mother bursting into her room that morning, proclaiming that Rebecca’s week of moping was over , as if she had not been assigned to bed rest by a physician, as though she had not been truly ill.

“I shall,” he told her. “If you want me to.”

Rebecca turned her head to him, her expression freezing in surprise. “You will?”

He nodded. “After what you suggested the other day, I will ensure to do everything that will make your life more comfortable.”

A jolt of pleasant surprise went through Rebecca at the proclamation. She turned to him, ignoring her complaining about her mother. “Edward, do you recall the time I told you that we could always dance together should you grow tired of matchmaking?”

“Which I have,” he conceded.

She offered her hand. “Then dance with me.” Her words came out shakily. “Dance with me, Edward?”

Clear blue eyes met hers, and he nodded, almost too solemnly for her comfort, but then his hand lined with hers, and he threaded his fingers through hers. Heavens above, she could only hope Catherine could not see such an intimate exchange.

We are just friends , she told herself. Friends who are saving one another from the terrible ways of the marriage mart. We just want to escape it all.

Edward led her to the dance floor. Part of Rebecca truly hadn’t expected him to take her there, but he did, and when they lined up alongside the other couples, she was sure that her gaze did not drift to other ladies, to see who watched, fearing who did.

She did not need the rumors spiraling through the ton before she got to announce anything.

Least of all she did not need Catherine saying anything.

She didn’t trust her friend anymore, and she could scarcely focus on the sadness of that before Edward had her tugged closer, and their dance began. His hand settled on her waist, his fingers curling around her gown, as they had in the river the day he had saved her.

The minstrels, spread along a dais on one length of a wall of the ballroom, began a new tune, and Edward dipped Rebecca into the new dance.

Her stomach gave that same flutter as before, and she tampered it down.

It is only because I fear Catherine is seeing us.

Truthfully, she felt on display. She wanted to sink into the dance with Edward, to be alone with him, but she felt so exposed.

She felt watched —by her friends, by every suitor she had ever conversed or flirted with.

Yet as soon as she looked at Edward, it all fell away.