Page 32 of The Reclusive Earl’s Scandal (Vows and Vanity #1)
Her worry burrowed and burrowed. She knew he took things on very personally, and often worried himself over small things, but she couldn’t linger on it for too long.
It could have involved Harry; it could have involved Catherine; it could have involved even them.
Perhaps he was having second thoughts and hadn’t been given the chance to express them.
So lost in her thoughts, Rebecca didn’t notice when her name was called.
She blinked, aware she had been staring at the way Edward’s hair curled against his coat’s collar.
The ends looked so soft, as if she could run her hands through them and feel silk.
He didn’t catch her gaze; he only continued to watch his mother and sister.
He seemed less skittish of them now, as if he was aware of the authority, as if he knew the authority, he finally needed to have over them if he was going to live his own life.
Lady Elena had made it clear she didn’t approve but he was making his own choice anyway.
“I am glad our families will be reconnected,” the countess emphasized, ignoring her daughter’s remark. “You always have been welcome here, and Edward has always held you in high regard. It only seems fitting you become his countess.”
“Lady Catherine was to be his countess,” Lady Elena snapped, standing to her feet.
Her mother placed a hand on her wrist, pulling her back down. “You will stay, and you will welcome Lady Rebecca into our family, as you have been welcomed into hers.”
Lady Elena’s eyes blazed, not looking away from her scathing glare fixed on Rebecca. “I do not care to be a part of hers. I wanted to be part of the Barrickshires.”
“Elena!” Her mother admonished, turning to her, appalled. “Lady Rebecca has earned our respect.”
“Has she?” Lady Elena’s voice dropped. “Has she truly ? Has she displayed respect to our family, in turn?”
“Elena, say one more terrible thing, and I will ask you to leave.”
“How about this,” Lady Elena said, shoving to her feet angrily, “you do not have to ask me at all. I will leave of my own accord. I do hope you are happy, brother, and that the rumours around the ton do not bring you as much shame as they do me.” The room fell silent as Lady Elena stormed out, her tea forgotten on the table.
The countess’s face cycled through rage, embarrassment, confusion, and then nervous composure as she laughed a little too loudly.
“My daughter… she gets her temper from my...my sister,” she said.
“I believe she gets it from you, Mother,” Edward answered, but he sounded good-natured, and it broke the tension in the room easily.
He seemed so different, Rebecca thought, as if he was in his body, but not quite himself.
There was a sense of an act to his behavior, an act she knew he played around other lords, but this was not the most genuine version of him she had known.
After all they had spoken with honesty and no masks, and she didn’t know what else to do. Chalking it down to nerves, Rebecca avoided the alternative: that it could have been due to the rumors, as Lady Elena had pointed out.
Swallowing hard, she pushed all thoughts aside, and stirred another sugar cube into her tea. She had been polite only using two, anyway. Soon, the Countess of Thornshire smoothed over the cracks left by her daughter with talk of wedding planning, but Rebecca found her heart not in it.
Still, she answered, and all the while she felt Edward’s gaze on her, as if he took note of what she asked for.
Her heart did that peculiar flutter again that no other suitor had inspired, but books and music had.
Yet there was Edward, doing the exact same, and Rebecca tried to remind herself of the convenience of their marriage. That was all.
So why did her eyes keep drifting to Edward, hoping his own would already be on hers?
***
Later that afternoon, she had refused Edward’s offer to take her home in lieu of walking through a nearby park.
Lottie walked behind her, chaperoning, and Rebecca let her thoughts drift, not particularly thinking about anything. It was everything, and nothing at once, a collision of everything she needed to be worrying about, blanketed by the peace of the fresh air and birdsong in the trees above.
Her footsteps whispered along the path, her fingers fiddling idly with the edge of her cloak.
She truly didn’t really need it, but in that moment, it felt like a barrier against the outside world.
Against the rumors, and against the eyes that slid over her without any discretion at all.
She didn’t know how much longer she could endure the gossiping that followed her through every event, ball, dinner party.
Worst of all, she didn’t know how much she could handle it affecting Edward and his family.
Lady Elena had confirmed as much.
Did that mean she didn’t have a hand in the rumor mongering, or was she simply playing her part well?
When Rebecca approached a line of cherry blossoms that were blooming, but had not yet bloomed enough to sprinkle over the park’s pathways, she looked around.
People milled around, traipsing down different pathways, while other couples promenaded in public, their arms linked.
Rebecca’s gaze lingered on them, on the closeness and easy affection.
Edward was her friend, but she could not imagine him being inclined to link her as such when they ventured out for walks. Would they even do things as a married couple beyond the social obligation of balls?
It was as she surveyed the couples and others around her that she saw the familiar blonde hair and eagle-eyed gaze that was already fixed on her. As soon as Rebecca met those eyes, Catherine looked away as if she hadn’t noticed.
Rebecca couldn’t keep putting off this confrontation, and she needed to know for sure if her suspicions were correct.
Speeding up, Rebecca approached Catherine.
At her side was Mary, who barely even looked at Rebecca.
Only a few weeks ago, they had sat in Mary’s music room discussing their plans for the upcoming Season.
How had it all fallen apart so quickly? How had this happened?
Rebecca’s heart cracked, but in those cracks, anger filled the gaps and urged her closer until she stood directly before her friends, forcing their attention.
“Good afternoon,” she said, only to find herself with her friends’ backs turned on her. She huffed, angry and hurt. “Fine. If that is how you wish for it to be, but I at least deserve the courtesy of you speaking to me, of you explaining why , Catherine.”
After a long, punishing silence, Catherine turned to her, her mouth quirking as if angrily amused. “Of course, the courtesy of discussing things. Such a funny thing, is it not? How demanding of you, considering that you did not extend the same grace to me.”
“What?”
Catherine glared at her, and Rebecca felt the weight of it like a hard blow. “Do not play innocent with me. You did not discuss your intention to marry Lord Thornshire, yet you know I liked him.”
Rebecca made an impatient noise. “You did not. You perhaps liked his notoriety, but you do not like him. Not as a woman should with her husband.”
“And do you?” Her friend’s challenge came out, sharp as a whip, and Rebecca found herself stepping back.
“That is none of your business,” she answered, noncommittal. “Yet you have made plenty of things your business, have you not?”
Catherine tipped her head, her pretty hair falling to one side. “I am certain I do not know what you mean.”
Rebecca blew out a hard, annoyed breath. “I am speaking about the rumours you started, Catherine. You cannot pretend as though you did not start them.”
“Oh, but it is not a pretence, for I did not...”
“I heard you speaking about Harry Maudley and me at the Balkans’ ball. I overheard you suggesting that I had an indecent connection with him. That is where the rumour began, no?”
Catherine said nothing, but her mouth pinched, much in the same way that Lady Elena’s had. Rebecca considered, not for the first time, that the two may have been in league with one another. Her gaze went to Mary, her anger flaring.
“And you? Did you play a part in it?” Rebecca demanded.
At least Mary had the decency to look guilty as she let her focus drop from Rebecca. She shuffled. How pretty and innocent they looked in their simple day gowns, how deceivingly friendly, when Rebecca had needed her friends. When she needed her friends still.
“I did go along with it,” Mary eventually admitted, much to Catherine’s gasp and betrayed scowl. “But I did not realise how seriously people would take it. I thought it would be harmless fun.”
“Harmless,” Rebecca repeated flatly. “ Harmless ?”
“Now, Lady Rebecca, you do not want to cause a scene,” Catherine warned, and Rebecca flinched back, both at the warning and her friend’s formality.
Hurt swirled through her heart, bruising it even further.
Everything squeezed that tender organ: her friends’ betrayals, Edward’s distance, Lady Elena’s disapproval, and her father’s actions.
All of that combined with the rumors so maliciously spread—for yes, she had once liked Harry, as she kept protesting, but it had never been what people said.
“You could have ruined me,” Rebecca whispered to them both, looking between her once-friends. “We used to be friends.”
“Indeed,” Catherine agreed, her voice devoid of anything friendly or nice.
It was utterly flat, bitter. “But friends would not have done what you did to me. No, I did not love Lord Thornshire, nor even find him all that handsome. But I saw him first, and you knew I wanted to give myself a good chance this Season. You took that from me.”
Rebecca stepped back, shaking her head. “I will not apologise. Not when he is my friend, and you were using him.”