Page 9 of The Reclusive Earl’s Scandal (Vows and Vanity #1)

“I have a strategy,” he lied. “I discussed it at the Greenacre with the other men two days ago.”

“Yes, but they do not know the ballroom as I do.”

He stared at Elena, impressed by how she spoke. She did so as if she was older than her seven and ten years. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “It is a chessboard, brother, nothing more, nothing less. You must checkmate your opponents.” A vague gesture meant the men, he assumed.

“And I must steal the queen?” he mused, smirking.

“Precisely.” She paused and frowned. “Wait, no, not literally.”

Edward gave a small laugh at that, missing these silly moments with his sister without their mother breathing down his neck, influencing Elena.

This, he could handle, for she meant well, while his mother only intended pressure.

Elena was still a puppeteer, perhaps, but she was nicer about it, at least.

“All right,” he humored. “Show me your strategy me.”

“Lady Catherine is once again in attendance. You must dance with her as you did last time. I would like to see that. Lady Mary Avery is also present. She is quiet, and not your most potential match, but she is high-ranked, and will do you good to be seen dancing with her. Furthermore, there is...”

“Lady Rebecca Bancroft,” he interrupted, finding his friend across the ballroom, already swept up in a lord’s arms. Her smile was not as bright as it had been with him, but instead she looked as though she focused hard, as if she thought harder, and he wondered what sort of strategy she herself had. “I must dance with her.”

He didn’t realize the silence was due to his sister’s surprise until he turned to face her. Her brows were raised, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Perhaps you are slightly interested in this whole parade after all, Edward.”

“Nonsense,” he said quickly.

“Nevertheless, I am glad you have caught the attention of a duke’s daughter.

I do not know why you have not mentioned reconnecting with her sooner.

I recall her although only vaguely.” Edward went to argue the meaning, but Elena was already carrying on.

“However, you must ensure this remains a friendly connection only. I really feel Lady Catherine is your best option. She is absolutely perfect.” The lights of the ballroom shone in his sister’s wide, hopeful gaze, and Edward’s sharp edges softened again.

However, despite Elena’s enthusiasm, Edward continued to feel that heaviness of dread pooling in his stomach.

He’d enjoyed speaking with Rebecca, and wanted to do so again, but he didn’t want her to be any part of the marriage game he was being forced to play.

He wanted to dance with her out of genuine enthusiasm, not because she was a potential match, friendly or not.

I liked her bluntness , Edward thought. I liked that we both admitted having to look for spouses. Surely Elena understood that it was only a platonic connection if they both had eyes on the ballroom for a wife and husband.

“And yourself?” Edward urged. “Who are you dancing with? I must verify them.”

Elena sniggered, dismissing him, but he remained stubborn. That was one of the reasons he had been brought back to London, after all, to oversee her entry into society. After a moment, she gave in, and nodded at a group of young lords near the wine bowl.

“I have enjoyed the company of Lord Matthew several times.”

“ Several ?” Edward echoed.

Elena only gave him a secretive smirk that was too grown up for his comfort, making him yet again realize just how much of his sister’s life and tutelage he had missed, and then she was gone, swanning into the depths of the ballroom in the hopes of being asked for a dance.

Eyes flicked to Edward and back away again—suitors wondering if they should start approaching Edward to ask for permission to dance with Elena.

He pointedly looked away, but kept an eye on Elena, and the best way to do such a thing was to enter the fray himself as much as he loathed to do so.

Every ball was the same; the same ball gown fashion, the same music and splendor.

The scenery may have changed from residence to residence but it all gave the same meaning.

Moments later, he had his hand in Lady Catherine’s, leading her to the ballroom, tugging her away from another lady with hair as red as her dress. It wasn’t entirely flattering, but he thought the other lady was pretty enough. Lady Mary , he recollected from Elena’s list and helpful pointing out.

“My lord.” Lady Catherine curtsied to him, while he stooped into a bow. “I hoped we would dance with one another again. I truly did feel like we got on very well at Lady Montgomery’s ball.”

Mustering a smile, Edward nodded. “I believe we did.”

Not well enough , he didn’t add, for there truly was something about her that just did not settle well with who he was. He didn’t like that she was playing a part, yet a part of him couldn’t judge her for such a thing. However, there was something sharper to her gaze tonight.

Something… something almost hungry.

“In all honesty, I have been rather disappointed,” she said delicately.

“For I thought you would have called upon me the morning after the ball. I had many suitor visits, but none of them were you.” Her head cocked to one side as he guided her through the dance.

Her gown was a daring, deep pink, with a low neckline that Edward pointedly looked away from.

“Forgive me,” he said automatically without any true feeling behind the apology. “I do not really find myself making home visits.” Quickly, he corrected himself, “at least not yet. I… I am still adjusting to life back in society, of course.”

Lady Catherine’s smile flagged. “Of course. How inconsiderate of me. Perhaps I can call upon you instead, should you ever wish to have a meeting with just the two of us?” Her brow raised. “You have many estates, do you not?”

“I have a reasonable amount for my position, yes,” he told her.

“Remind me how many?” She giggled as though the question was perfectly acceptable, and perhaps it was, but Edward only winced at how hungry it sounded.

As though she was forming a list to see what she might inherit should she become a countess.

How many other suitors had she asked, weighing up their assets?

“Four,” he answered.

He hoped he imagined the flicker of distaste on her face before it was smoothed away. “Do you plan to acquire more?”

“At present, no,” he told her, frowning.

Lady Catherine fell silent, then, and he pondered her behavior, her disappointment.

Do not judge her , he chided himself. You are looking for reasons not to commit, for committing means leaving your townhouse more often.

It was such a foolish notion, but he knew himself.

He knew that was why he avoided it, why he did search for a reason.

Edward lifted his chin higher as he finished his dance with Lady Catherine, but as soon as she left his arms in a way that he couldn’t decide was reluctant or relieved, Lady Mary was there, dipping into a curtsy.

“My lord,” she greeted.

“Lady Mary,” he returned. Please do not be like Lady Catherine . Elena had already told him Lady Mary was meeker, quieter, but tended to follow in her friends’ footsteps. “How are you tonight?”

And then everything became a blur of ladies leaving his embrace to only be replaced by another dance partner, and Edward lost both control of himself, and sight of who he danced with.

Faces blurred into one, and he spun until he was dizzy, tongue going dry with the amount of conversation he was forced to make.

He kept it polite, brief, but there was one very talkative lady, and another stepped on his toes and apologized every second.

Other women danced with him while their eyes roamed the dance floor for another, and he politely ended their dances early to let them find a suitor they truly wanted to dance with.

He was aware he had a good social standing so would be highly sought out, but by the time he was freed from all those ladies, Edward’s legs were weak.

He saw Elena shouldering her way through the crowd towards him, no doubt coming to ask about his progress. Exhausted, Edward couldn’t bring himself to speak, not with her, not about this. He turned, spotting a familiar face across the ballroom.

Rebecca stood alone, her face drawn in serious pondering.

What is on your mind ? He wondered, already moving closer to her.

It seemed as though she was the only lady he had not danced with that evening.

Suddenly, the weight in his tongue and dry mouth vanished at the thought of speaking with her.

At least there would be one lady present that would not just ask him about his assets or finances or make subtle flirtatious comments he felt awkward to return.

She would be somebody who would be herself, not trying too hard to win favor.

She caught his eye, and her face changed from that tight seriousness to something looser, easier, and he went to lift a hand in greeting, when he heard a voice he hadn’t heard in years, low and wheedling.

“Well, well, if it is not Lord Ediot , reappearing into society again. I thought you had shown your face at the last ball, but you hid in the corner so much I could not be certain.”

Edward stiffened, hearing the old, humiliating appellation.

Ediot , for he had been slow as a younger boy with his lessons, never quite understanding what he ought to.

Stiffly, he turned to face Lord Billy Harcroft, the boy who had coined Ediot , and who had mercilessly humiliated and frightened Edward when they were adolescents.

“Lord Billy,” he commented, cocking his head. His stomach fluttered with nerves, but he forced his voice to be strong. “Still waiting for your inheritance, I hear. Do not get too desperate that you will resort to attempts at public humiliation.”

Lord Billy narrowed a glare at him, the ice-blue of his eyes like cold chips of hatred. “At least I did not leave the ton for the better part of two years. I suppose losing one’s father is terrible business, though.”

Edward’s jaw clenched. “Have you nothing better than to recollect an appellation that did not work a decade ago, and will not work now?”

“Oh, I do believe it worked both times,” Lord Billy laughed. Around him, other lords watched on. “I heard you did not show up to Greenacre, but begged Lord Thomas to claim your presence. Too scared, Ediot? You always did love hiding away.”

Edward moved forward, hating the eyes on him, hating that Lord Billy raised his voice, hating that they had once been friends, and Edward did not know why the other man had become so hateful.

But before he could make any true approach a hand was placed on his arm, and he froze.

Glancing down, he followed a pale, slender hand right up to delicate wrists, and then along to face Rebecca.

He didn’t know when she’d approached, but her expression was pulled into confusion as she looked questioningly at him.

At once, Edward relaxed.

“Do allow me to steal Lord Thornshire from your company, Lord Billy,” she said, raising her brow. “After all, we would not like to recall your name from school, would we? I recall it being rather creative, changing one letter of your name.”

Edward stifled a laugh, and was led away from his old enemy. As soon as they found another corner of the ballroom, he felt the tension drain from him. Not just from seeing Lord Billy, but the general lack of exhaustion of the night and the desire to be anywhere but that ballroom.

How is it you have just wiped away the stress of the night with one, light touch ? He thought, gazing at Rebecca while her own eyes remained on the ballroom before them.