Page 23 of The Reclusive Earl’s Scandal (Vows and Vanity #1)

Those blue eyes captured her; they whispered sweet things that made her feel as though she could drown in them and remain safe.

So Rebecca did, and as they danced across the floor, she let the rest of the room fade out of awareness and worry.

There was no point. After all, if all went to plan, they would have to make their betrothal announcement soon enough.

“Edward,” she murmured, but she caught sight of his expression, finding him looking more nervous than ever. “Edward, are you all right?”

“I am well,” he answered hastily, and tightened his grip on her as if she needed that as extra assurance.

Perhaps she did. Rebecca nodded, trusting him to tell her the truth in time, for she believed he was not truly fine, but she was coming to learn that he was quite a private man.

He would tell her what was on his mind when he was ready.

Then again, he might simply be feeling the nerves of their impending betrothal, if he was inclined to let it go ahead.

Perhaps he, like her, was also worried about the eyes on them.

Did he worry about the repercussions of Catherine witnessing their dance?

She danced with him, and felt his hands on her, and Rebecca thought that she felt steadied for the first time in a very long time.

Between her father’s debts, and her mother’s passive ways, she hadn’t felt on solid footing in too long.

At least not that somebody else could provide for her.

But with Edward… with him, it was different.

They danced slowly to the remainder of the song, and Rebecca felt herself flushing beneath his attention. Soon, they came to a stop. Behind Edward, Rebecca saw other lords gathering at the edges of the dance floor, and she hoped none of them did so with the intention of asking her to dance.

“We could take a turn around the room,” she suggested cheerfully. “It will give us a chance to discuss everything.”

“Everything?”

“Well, there is the matter of what I suggested the other day.”

Edward was silent until he began leading her off the dance floor in the opposite direction of the gathered suitors. Only when they were in one of the emptiest parts of the room did he speak.

“There is that,” he acknowledged, nodding slowly.

“I have given it a lot of thought, Rebecca.” Her stomach did a little flip, and she braced herself for some sort of rejection.

For him to say that friends could not marry, that it would be a bad idea, that perhaps, faced with the option of losing Catherine, he had found himself wanting to marry her.

But he smiled and gave a second, short nod.

“I would like to marry you. You are right in that it will solve a great deal of problems for us both. I know you do not love me...” She heard the very slight wobble of his voice, and she wished to reach out for him, to offer comfort, for they had both sought romance.

“And I do not like the idea of forcing you into a loveless marriage. You truly deserve a love match.”

“As do you,” she countered. They continued walking, a slow gait that let them linger in the conversation without being watched too greatly.

“But this is what I want. You...you are more than deserving, and together, I believe we can be happy.

I like how you are observant, and I feel safe at your side.

Edward, you jumped into that river without a single hesitation, so I hear.

You were ready to save me no matter what.

You always listen, you do not judge me and you have not judged me for my antics at these balls.

Not to mention the way you protected me in the drawing room.

“I enjoy your company. I enjoy that you make me feel as though all this…” She waved a hand vaguely at the ballroom around them.

“Goes away when you are at my side. It has been so long since I have found somebody who can take it all away like that. I never expected to meet you again, Edward, and I am not entirely certain why we stopped seeing one another, but I am glad we have reconnected. I am comfortable around you, and I think you are around me, and from what you have told me that is a good thing indeed for me to know I can do for you.”

After her small speech, she blushed, looking away.

“I apologise,” she laughed, trying to brush it off. “I should not have rambled so long to you as my friend. I only...”

“I will call upon your father in the next several days,” he said quickly.

Rebecca couldn’t help noticing how his own cheeks had flushed red when she looked back at him in surprise.

There was something tight in his voice, something she couldn’t quite understand.

“We will discuss the terms of our betrothal, marriage, and what to do should there be any…” He looked around pointedly. “Negative gossip, I suppose.”

Rebecca winced, nerves spiking through her stomach.

It speared through into her heart, settling uncomfortably.

After all, Edward thought the only problems he was helping her solve was taking her from the dance floor, ending her trials of wooing, and overriding any public accusation Harry might still make.

He knew nothing of her father’s vices and how he had dwindled the family’s wealth into very little. She also hadn’t told him that her father expected her to marry Harry should he make that accusation. But… if she was already betrothed to an earl then her father could dismiss it all perhaps?

Or everybody will think Edward is helping me cover up a scandal. I could ruin us both.

“Gossip,” she mused nervously. Her fingers fiddled on the cuff of her glove on the other hand, toying with the little silver bow that tied the material together. “Certainly, from Lord Mason. I heard he was rather fond of me.”

“Fond of your father’s name, I imagine,” Edward jested, and Rebecca was too distracted with her worries that she didn’t realize he was jesting until Edward nudged her. They had come to a stop.

“Oh,” she breathed, finding them almost perfectly obscured by a vase of blooming, purple flowers.

“Well, I believe you did promise secrecy behind a vase.” Edward’s laugh matched her own nerves, and he turned to catch her gaze. It was that look that undid her: his was open, vulnerable, and she knew that he would be willing to give her everything.

She could not trick him into this arrangement.

“Edward, I must speak with you about something before you approach my father,” she said hurriedly. “It is something I am greatly ashamed of, but you must know.”

“Thornshire! Heavens, what on Earth are you doing hiding back here?”

The two of them looked up with matching stricken looks, as Lord Willoughby and several other men—one or two of whom Rebecca had danced with over the last month—walked over.

Their grins said enough that they were ready to jest with the two of them.

Quickly, she stepped back, right as Edward was pulled into their ranks.

He looked half terrified, but reached for her one last time.

“We will speak,” he promised. “I shall come and visit you before I speak with His Grace.”

Rebecca nodded, still toying with her glove to try to distract herself from her nerves.

Is this how Edward feels all the time? Ever on edge?

Never settled? Always anxious about something?

Her thoughts ticked and ticked over one another, an endless stream of worry as Edward left with the group, leaving her standing alone.

Across the ballroom, Catherine was stony-faced in the arms of a lord she clearly was not enjoying her time with, and Mary watched Rebecca, her brows pinched.

Suddenly, it felt as though there were too many eyes on her.

Too many people knowing too much. Too many silent warnings and threats Rebecca couldn’t decipher or anticipate.

Harry, Catherine, even Mary. Her mother, and perhaps even Lady Elena, too, for Rebecca recalled the younger lady’s favoritism of Catherine.

She had heard the fawning Lady Elena did during the riverside walk that day, of what a perfect couple Catherine and her brother made.

To think she feared the approval of Edward’s sister when she had garnered it from his mother was foolish, yet Rebecca did.

But her biggest worry was that she feared Edward might want nothing to do with her when he found out the truth. He was not shallow, but marrying her meant he would be giving up far more than the chance at a romantic connection.

Rebecca swallowed and retreated, but as she did, she crossed into Catherine’s dancing path. Her old friend was oblivious of her presence, and Rebecca lingered, intending to interrupt the dance to apologize to her friend, to speak with her, only to hear her name.

She ducked behind two lords who waited to find the next lady to ask to dance, pretending to study her dance card.

“I do not know what you mean, Lady Catherine. Lady Rebecca truly did that?”

“Heavens, yes! We have been friends for many years, and she has always held a soft spot for the tutor’s son.

She has implied that it has not always been…

a decent connection as well, if you understand.

” The heavy silence after suggested enough indecency, and mortification slid like a hot poker into Rebecca’s chest.

She stepped back, her breathing ragged.

“An affair with a man who has no money or prospects, or even any social standing,” Catherine laughed, enough to draw more attention. “Let us hope whoever asks for her hand knows what he is entering into.”

Rebecca stumbled, almost knocking into a server who expertly dodged her, holding his tray of wine glasses aloft to avoid any spilling on her.

She wasn’t even focused enough to utter an apology, and quickly ran away.

Away from Catherine, who had not seen her; away from Mary and her strangeness; away from the lies and deception she had not seen coming.

Away from the rumors that she couldn’t help fear would begin circulating.

And away from the ice-cold terror that it was only a matter of time that Edward would hear and rethink everything he had heard from her.

The way Harry had approached her in the drawing room could be reinterpreted, and Harry’s words could be damning enough that Rebecca might not be believed against the force of Catherine’s rumor.

Tears blurred her vision, and Rebecca fled the ballroom with a tight chest and panting breaths she couldn’t get under control.