Page 34 of The Reclusive Earl’s Scandal (Vows and Vanity #1)

“You truly must ask me if I am certain I want to marry you?” Edward let the question fall, let himself drop the terrible, bravado mask he had needed to hide behind for days.

I love you, Rebecca .

His vulnerable moment from the carriage had haunted him, and he had dived down into that place where he was safe, where he could find a way to be who Rebecca would need him to be in order to have her perfect husband. If he could not give her a love match then he would at least give her happiness.

His voice cracked. “Rebecca, if you do not know by now that my doubts lie not in you, but myself, then I truly must voice it more. I am a wreckage of a man most days. Social events are not—they are not kind to me, but I must keep on trying. It is draining .

“You ask if I have doubts.” He paused long enough to see her wide-eyed stare as she nodded.

“My doubts lie in myself. In my capability to give you the life you deserve. Heavens, I tried to attend a play alone and could not even sit through the whole thing! You are going to make a wonderful wife, but me… I am not going to make a wonderful husband. Still, I have been trying. I want to show you that you are worth every effort. That your family is, that we are, together, for a whole multitude of reasons.”

Edward could not confess all that was growing in his heart, the admittance that he’d stopped seeing Rebecca as only a friend a long time ago, and perhaps he should have called off their arrangement then.

That it was unfair to use her to escape the marriage market, yet he was… he was falling in love with her.

The days when he had turned away from his own thoughts, drifting into a kind of daze because it was the only way to bear all that was expected of him, had been wretched.

“Forgive me,” he mumbled, reaching for her hands. “Forgive me for being distant. I am toying with processes in order to be who you deserve.”

“Edward.” Her voice was so soft, so coaxing, and he forced himself to truly, truly look at her. To look at the woman who was to be his wife, a woman so beautiful he could scarcely keep his heart from racing. A woman whose eyes glimmered with life and curiosity and teasing wit.

“I will never live with myself if I take this joy in your eyes away,” he whispered. A part of him wanted to reach for her, to cup her face and graze his thumb over the lift of her cheek. But he already risked too much by shutting them into the drawing room unchaperoned.

“You will not,” she told him. “You are dear to me, Edward. Reconnecting with you has brought my joy back. Our marriage will give me freedom to do so much more again. I believe this joy you speak of in my eyes is only there because of you, but I beg of you not to shut me out. I know you go through things you do not fully speak about, but I am asking you to speak to me if you can. I do not want to spend my marriage shut out, watching you grow more distant. I respect your privacy and your ability to support yourself, but, as your friend, let me also support you. Let us support one another.”

As your friend .

Despite how the phrase speared right through Edward, it was a reminder to step back, to lower his intensity, to be the friend Rebecca needed. So, he released her hands, put physical distance between them, even as he nodded to her words, and he composed himself.

“I cannot promise anything,” Edward told her softly.

“But I will try. I have found myself trying to put on a mask. The last few weeks....” He inhaled sharply.

“They have been draining, and I fear that if I do not wear such a mask, then I will crumble entirely. We are due to attend the Reeves’ ball tomorrow, and the thought of it makes my stomach utterly drop, but my mother has encouraged me to go.

We must be seen together. We are stronger that way.

With these horrible rumours going around, us at the ball together can greatly protect you. At least I believe so.”

Rebecca’s face lit up, reminding him of why he kept trying to be present, why he forced himself to be what society demanded of him.

She nodded quickly. “Indeed, but I want you to know that if there is ever an event you truly cannot go to, if the thought sends you to your knees, then there will be other means to ensure your comfort is intact without me being restricted. It is true I like my social events, but your well-being is my priority.”

“I will not confine you to the same four walls I confined myself to,” he all but growled.

“I know you will not,” she told him simply, and that was all there was to it.

In that moment, Edward realized that she trusted him.

He just had to trust himself. Heavens, he wanted to embrace her.

He wanted to hold her, and thank her, and tell her that he would make her a happy wife; as much as he could, at least. He wanted to tell her that when they grew apart in the last ten years he had thought of her often, had asked his father why the Bancrofts did not visit anymore, and his father had always been noncommittal in his responses.

Edward now wondered if it’d had anything to do with the duke’s alcoholic dependency, if he had pushed away the late earl in his search for vices that nobody would ever truly understand the need for.

“Can I ask you something?” Rebecca asked quietly, tugging him from his thoughts. Edward nodded. “When my father revealed that he had no money for the dowry, you were not cross about being lied to. Why?”

Edward didn’t really need to think about his answer.

It came easily, honestly. “I know what it is like to feel helpless and stuck. Sometimes lies are malicious and cruel, and sometimes they are protection even if we cannot see that the truth is the best route. I know what it means to protect myself in that sort of way. You have a right to your anger, but he also cannot stop turning to his poison without choosing help properly.”

He couldn’t work out Rebecca’s response to that based on her expression. She flickered between careful neutrality and then confusion. “If you had needed the dowry would you be less understanding?”

“Perhaps,” he admitted. “But after all, I am marrying his daughter. That is still all I need.”

Again, it was as close to a confession as he could get without overwhelming her, but Edward himself was starting to slip into his own storm of worry and nerves. He was now thinking about the Reeves’ ball, the eyes that would turn to them, those infernal whispers that would never stop following.

However, he forced himself to stay, to take another moment to assure Rebecca.

“Even if I am distant, as I know I have been as of late, please know it is only so I can find a way to endure all I must until everything dies down for us. I apologise if it does not look… approachable, but you must know for certain, Rebecca, that I have no doubts about marrying you. I want to protect you and provide for you, and I will. And I have...”

He stopped himself from telling her about the real reason for the Bath residence, thinking better of it at the last moment.

“I have prepared a gift for you,” he said. “It is—it is a ticket to see a play with me. When I went alone, I did it to find my comfort, but all I could think of was you being there. Would you like to go with me?”

Rebecca was already nodding before he even finished asking, and Edward found himself loosening a little, his smile less forced and more genuine for the first time in days, perhaps weeks.

“Until the Reeves’ ball, then,” he said softly, an echo of their earlier promises, back when things had not been so complicated, and yet were somehow even more so.

***

Bedecked in beautiful white swathes of silk, the Reeves’ ballroom was a diamond-themed affair. Glitter brushed the ballroom, and more of it arched across the ceiling, as if everyone was trapped either between stars or jewels, a world that shimmered prettily.

Ladies wore gowns of silver and gray and cream, while men wore dove-colored tailcoats and Edward, with the silver color of his family name anyway, wore a dark silver tailcoat and a cravat that glittered when it caught the light.

It was garish for him, but his mother had insisted he should stick to the theme.

Otherwise, he would only stick out more from the crowd.

His stomach dipped when he saw Lord Billy, and he quickly looked away so Rebecca’s attention didn’t follow where his went. Exhaustion weighed like ten coats on Edward’s shoulders from a mostly sleepless night. Truly, he had not wanted to attend the ball.

The dance floor was already full of guests, with ladies whispering to one another in the corners of the ballroom, eyeing up their next dance partner.

Men milled about together, shaking hands or drinking their wine.

And, as always, the mothers gathered, eagle-eyes watching their daughters to criticize or praise.

“Heavens, it is all so abhorrent,” he muttered. He shot Rebecca a careful smile as he offered his arm. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” she answered. As soon as she linked her arm through his, it was a public message.

His proposal had already been accepted, and they had managed to convince their families that a betrothal ball was not the smartest idea with the current social threats, so this was as much of a public celebration as they would have.

It suited Edward just fine; he did not enjoy being the center of attention.

“Thornshire!” Willoughby’s voice cut through the din of the ballroom, and the other man approached him with a wide grin.

He clapped Edward on the back, nodding at the couple’s linked arms. “Congratulations on your match. You lucky man, snatching the duke’s daughter out from under our noses.

” He laughed, all good-natured, and Edward gave a hesitant laugh in return.