Chapter Sixteen

December 9, 1812

Frederick wished he could describe what he was feeling. Nervous did not quite cut it.

“You’re being a damned fool, Pernrith,” he muttered as he paced up and down his drawing room.

A damned fool, but one who was finally about to make the right decision.

How he had managed to get this far without spilling his affections to Edie, he did not know. He had been sure at the ball last night that all his emotions would tumble from his lips and he would be unable to stop himself from declaring himself right in the middle of the ballroom.

I love you.

I need you.

I crave you.

I can’t live without you…

But this was most definitely the right decision. The invitation had been most clear, him asking his supposed betrothed over for afternoon tea, and Frederick had added a postscript to the note he had sent that morning that perhaps he should not have written.

PS. If you could perhaps leave Mrs. Teagan at home, I would be most grateful.

He had asked Edie to take a risk, to concoct another of her impressive schemes to allow herself to leave home without the company of her chaperone. The whole point of Mrs. Teagan was to act as chaperone, preventing any hint of scandal from following the flourishing rose of the year’s Season.

Frederick snorted as he lowered his head to peer out of the window, looking for the carriage that would at any moment pull up outside Pernrith House. Flourishing rose of the Season, indeed. Edie would be relieved, he was sure, to escape that stifling title.

Besides, he reasoned as he resumed his pacing, Edie was only doing what was natural. As their supposed wedding grew closer, it was to be expected that they would meet occasionally to discuss things like… oh, he didn’t know. Flowers. Canapes. Travel locations they might consider visiting during their honeymoon.

Why not do so at Pernrith House, where Edie would one day be mistress?

A jolt to Frederick’s stomach forced him to halt and put a hand out to the wall. Edie, mistress of Pernrith House. Well, why not hope? Why not dream?

If all things went well in the next hour or so, it would be more than a dream…

“Lord, you look half done in for,” came a conversational voice behind him. “I knew you stayed too late at that ball, my lord.”

Frederick could not help but smile as he turned to see the concerned expression of his housekeeper. “I am well, I assure you, Mrs. Kinley.”

“Hmm,” said his housekeeper, plainly not convinced. “What you young things think you’re doing, gallivanting about all over the place, exhausting yourself half to death—”

“It was just one ball,” he pointed out.

Mrs. Kinley sniffed. “You came home at three in the morning!”

That he had. Frederick had stayed far later at the ball last night than he had at… at any other ball in his recollection.

There were probably stares. He had never stepped out into Society without attracting a few askance looks. Muttering, there had undoubtedly been. It was impossible to be Viscount Pernrith without it.

And yet Frederick had not noticed anything of the sort. His attention had been all too agreeably distracted elsewhere…

“And now you’re hosting the young Miss Stewart, are you?” Mrs. Kinley’s voice cut through his pleasant remembrances. “Fond of her, aren’t you?”

There was no point in attempting to deceive Mrs. Kinley. Not only because his housekeeper had a sharper wit then most of the gentlemen at the Dulverton Club, but because Frederick knew the deception was coming to an end.

This false engagement, it would be made true, made right within the next sixty minutes. It would all be real.

“I am fond of Miss Stewart, yes.”

“So long as she appreciates you,” his housekeeper said, more stiffly than he had expected. “Sick and tired, I am, of seeing you underappreciated by those brothers of yours.”

It was the most out of turn his senior servant had ever spoken, and Frederick would have reprimanded her for speaking so boldly if he had not heard the real care in her voice.

His heart softened. He was fortunate, indeed, to have a housekeeper like Mrs. Kinley. “Thank you. I believe she… Edie and I, we… we understand each other… “

Frederick’s voice trailed away.

They understood each other. Well, it was true. He had never encountered a woman who looked past the indignity of his past and saw only himself. He had certainly never conversed with a woman so openly about his thoughts, his opinions, his… his fears.

And she would be here at any moment.

“Is the cake ready, Mrs. Kinley?” Frederick asked, forcing his mind to more practical matters.

Her eyes gleamed. “Only the very best for my master and my future mistress, naturally. I’ll bring it through now.”

His housekeeper bustled away.

Frederick did not have time to think of anything else before she was back, holding a tray upon which lay—

“Mrs. Kinley, you have outdone yourself again,” he said in wonder.

And well he might. Alongside the steaming pot of tea, two cups on saucers, milk and sugar, stood—

It was magnificent. The cake had three tiers, each smothered in what appeared to be sugared violets. Fresh flowers—goodness knew where she had managed to get them—adorned the very top, along with peals of icing that curled and swept across the cake in cascades of delicious sugar.

Frederick’s mouth watered just looking at it.

“I thought, show the mistress just what we can do,” Mrs. Kinley puffed, laying down the tray on the small table just to the right of the fire.

The mention of “the mistress” did not pass Frederick’s attention, and his chest swelled at the phrasing. Yes, Edie would soon be the mistress of this house—and his wife.

All he had to do was ask her.

It was the decision they should have made at the very beginning, when it had been clear Lord Stewart was going to demand an honorable act from him. He had resigned himself to it—even looked forward to it, despite the circumstances. But would Frederick have come to adore Edie as she deserved if she had not asked for her freedom? Would he have appreciated her, realized what a gift she was, if neither of them had been given a choice?

He would never know. However we got here , Frederick thought as his stomach twisted, we have gotten here .

And in mere moments—

“Ah, there’s the Stewart carriage,” Mrs. Kinley said, bobbing a curtsey before turning to the door. “I’ll show her in, shall I?”

“I’ll get the door, Mrs. Kinley,” Frederick said hastily.

The thought of anyone else talking to her… No. He wanted to be the only person in Edie’s world today.

His housekeeper gave him what could be considered a very knowing look. Then she was gone.

Frederick inhaled deeply as he strode across the hall.

This was it. This was the day he would remember for the rest of his life: the day Edie promised to be his wife. Actually his wife.

When the door opened, it was to discover Edie, alone as he’d hoped she’d be, raising her hand to the knocker.

“Oh!”

“Edie,” Frederick said impulsively, desperate to say her name aloud.

She beamed, and he knew everything would go according to plan. “I received your note and managed to leave the house without Mrs. Teagan knowing. She had just gone to lie down again, you see.”

“Another headache?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent—that is, not for poor Mrs. Teagan’s sake. But come on in,” said Frederick, stepping back and encouraging her to enter.

She allowed him to take her pelisse, and he had to work hard not to allow his fingertips to linger along the embroidered hem of her gown. Her hair was piled up in a chestnut heap on her head, held together by more pins than Frederick thought could be in London, let alone on a single woman’s head.

But he knew how rich and full those curls were. Had seen her hair fanned out over a pillow. Had seen it move as she cried out—

“I hope you have cake at the ready,” Edie teased as she stepped across the hall to the open drawing room door. “Ah, I see that you have—my goodness.”

“It is rather spectacular, isn’t it?” Frederick followed her, shutting the door behind him for privacy.

A conversation as delicate as this required privacy.

Edie was standing beside the cake, examining it with wide eyes. “Where on earth did you purchase such a thing?”

“My housekeeper and my cook, they—”

“Goodness gracious, they could open a bakery and put Don Saltero’s Chelsea Coffee House out of business within a week,” she said with a tinkling laugh. “Is this why Mrs. Teagan could not accompany me? You were concerned we would have to share it?”

Frederick grinned but did not answer her immediately.

How could he? He wanted to drink her in first, and as usual, Edie offered a particularly delectable sight.

She was attired in a light-green gown, a muslin of the sort with a delicate, woven pattern within it. He could not quite make it out at this distance, and so Frederick took advantage of the moment and moved closer.

Little hearts. There were little hearts woven into the print.

Frederick swallowed. She must know, mustn’t she? After their agreement to remain engaged for one further day, Edie must know what he wished to ask. What he had to ask.

“I want to be engaged for another day.”

“So… So do I.”

“Shall I cut, or do you wish to?”

Frederick blinked. “I… I beg your pardon?”

Cut? What on earth is she talking about?

Edie was pointing at the cake. “This spectacular affair—I am a tad concerned if I cut into it, the whole thing will fall apart. What do you think?”

Think? He would much rather take the cake knife, slit it up the ties of her gown, and watch it fall to the—

“I’ll cut,” Frederick said, mouth dry. “But first—first, I want to ask you something.”

With doe-like eyes, Edie stared up at him. “What is it?”

It was not in his nature to hesitate, but in this moment, he simply could not barrel forward. He had to think.

Not that he hadn’t given the matter a great deal of thought already. In fact, Frederick was conscious his eyes were a little weary and his skin a little pallid because he had done so much thinking.

Mrs. Kinley had been correct—he had returned home from the ball at around three o’clock in the morning. But he had not slept. He had stayed awake attempting to think of the best, the most impressive way he could offer marriage, true marriage, to Miss Edith Stewart.

She deserved something incredible. A flotilla of boats across the Thames, fireworks, a display of exotic animals, and perhaps even a juggler or three.

But Frederick couldn’t offer that, and a part of him knew Edie did not require it. She knew him, knew his means, or lack thereof. He was far from the wealthiest suitor, though his two thousand a year meant he was hardly penniless.

Creating such a ridiculous, extravagant proposal would not endear him to Edie.

No. She already knew him, already cared for him.

He was enough.

“Frederick?” prompted Edie quietly.

Frederick started. “I beg your pardon?”

“You were going to ask me something,” she reminded him with a sweetness in her expression that made him want to tangle his hands in her hair and ask the question through quite other means.

If only he did not feel so inadequate. She was the flourishing rose of the year’s Season, and he was the reprehensible Viscount Pernrith, whom the whole of Society enjoyed shunning. Did she not know how above him she was? How desperately he would work to deserve her?

Frederick loved her. Would that be enough?

“Edie, I… “ He swallowed. “I know our entire acquaintance has been—well, unusual.”

Her eyes glittered. “It has, indeed.”

“I never expected you to slip into that alcove and discover me at Lady Romeril’s ball,” Frederick continued, his voice growing stronger as his confidence rose. “And I never expected to feel such—such a connection with you. Such a desire for you.”

There was pinks in her cheeks and Edie’s gasp had caught for just a moment, but she was breathing steadily now and looking with such trust, such open adoration, Frederick was heartened.

It was all going to go to plan.

“This engagement is false. It’s not true, and you and I are the only ones who know that,” Frederick said softly. He reached out and took Edie’s hands in his, and his whole body vibrated at the connection. “It’s been… well, damned wonderful to be gadding about London with you on my arm. You are… You know how precious you are to me.”

Still, Edie did not speak, though there was an answering glitter in her expression.

Well, this was it. It was now or never. “And I… Well, I want to make this engagement true. I want to marry you, Edie. I don’t want this to end. I… Marry me.”

There. It was said.

And nothing else was said in the drawing room. The silence was natural at first—any woman would be stunned to receive such a declaration, Frederick knew.

But as the silence continued, growing and spreading around the room, highlighting the echoing thud of his pulse and the strained breathing, something started to prickle around his mind.

Edie hadn’t said yes .

She hadn’t said anything. Her hands were still in his, and she had not moved away—but she had not accepted him. She had not rejected him. She was just… standing there.

Frederick licked his lips a tad uncertainly. He had never proposed matrimony before. Was he supposed to just wait until the lady in question gained her equilibrium? Was that when she would launch herself into his arms and kiss him?

Oh, blast. Was he supposed to be one knee?

And then he saw it. The fear in her eyes.

Frederick dropped Edie’s hands as if they burned and staggered backward. “I see.”

Her jaw dropped. “No, you don’t—”

“Yes, I do,” he said dully. How could he have been so stupid? “You just looked at me like they all do.”

Edie’s eyes were sparkling. “No, it isn’t like that—”

“Isn’t it?” Frederick shot back, turning away and pulling a hand through his hair.

How had he managed to convince himself that Edie had cared about him—truly cared about him? All their conversations, their talks, she had never said… There had been no mention of affection.

And Edie had just considered him with the same fear everyone else in the ton did. The concern that if they got too close to him, they’d become tainted with the same stain he had borne the whole of his life.

“I hesitated,” said Edie, stepping around and trying to take his hand. “Is it so wrong to hesitate?”

“I don’t you want you to hesitate. I want you to want me!” Frederick said, agony in every syllable as his heart tore in two. “I never hesitated with you!”

There was a sharp look in her face as she said, “I am not so sure of that. It took a certain amount of convincing for you to agree to a false engagement, let alone a true one.”

“That’s not true. I intended—”

“Was it not?” Edie shot back. “Was that not exactly what happened?”

Frederick growled in his throat, irritation threatening to pour out of him. “I just offered you my heart, and you said nothing!”

“I didn’t. I just wasn’t sure if you… I cannot just immediately—”

“Why not?” he persisted. Desperate though he was to be close to her again, Frederick knew if he got too close, all ability to think would seep away from his mind. “It’s my parentage, isn’t it? Isn’t it?”

Again, a hesitation, and this time, a tormented look of pain across Edie’s face. “That is a low blow.”

He swore quietly under his breath.

“How could you even think that? You don’t underst—I thought you were the one who… And this isn’t a small thing you are asking of me, Frederick!”

“It isn’t?” He laughed darkly, hating the twinge that shot across her expression as he did. “I thought it was the rest of my life I was offering you. I must agree—it isn’t a small thing!”

“You have lived like this your whole life, I know. You have no idea what it is to—”

“To be accepted? To be a part of Society?” Frederick said, his voice breaking.

Oh, he was such a fool. What had he been thinking—that someone like Edie would risk everything, risk her reputation, her place in Society, her vouchers to Almack’s, the good opinion of the world… just for him?

Edie’s voice was a tad higher as she retorted. “I just mean… Yes, I am the flourishing rose of the year’s Season, but—”

Frederick stepped away, unable to bear it. “You hypocrite—you said you didn’t want to be treated just as someone beautiful!”

“You aren’t letting me explain—”

“You said you didn’t want the title, we—we talked about it! Unearned title, I remember,” he said, blinking back tears.

Oh, God, he hoped she did not notice. The drawing room he knew so well was swimming before his eyes, and he could not understand how this had all gone terribly wrong.

Of course she did not want to leave behind the comfortable and respectable life that she had lived. Of course he wasn’t good enough for her. Had he not known, his whole life, that love and matrimony were not in the cards for him?

Edie was speaking hastily, her words intermingling so much it was hard to follow her train of thought. “I’ve had to live up to so much. Dragged this way and that, told what to do, whom to dance with. All this year—but even before then. My father, he has always wanted, always planned—he’s wanted what’s best for me!”

The words echoed around the drawing room like a malediction.

Frederick cleared his throat as he tilted his head. “So I’m not the best.”

“I didn’t say—”

“Dear God, I should have known—the Countess of Dalmerlington’s comment should have opened my eyes. You could have a duke, the very best—and here I am, the bottom of the barrel. Because I’m illegitimate,” he said flatly, self-loathing rising. “Just half a Chance. Not the real thing. I don’t have the impressive title your father wants, though mine is greater than his own—”

“Frederick—”

“Or the riches or the position that others have,” Frederick said, barreling onward because he could only see one end to this conversation and he wished to get there as quickly as possible. Get it over with. “I can’t say I’m surprised. Hurt, but not surprised.”

Edie was blinking back tears, and he didn’t know why. He wasn’t the one who had shied away from a proposal, a true proposal of marriage. He wasn’t the one who was clinging to the expectations of the ton so tightly it would mean relinquishing a chance of happiness.

She was trying to smile. “You think so little of me—”

“It’s you who thinks too little of me. This should be easy, Edie—the easiest thing in the world,” Frederick said, stepping toward her and cupping her face in his hands. Oh, the craving to kiss away those tears… to show her that they could be together, no matter what.

But she would have to stand with him against the world, would she not?

And if she could not do that here, in the privacy and safety of their own company…

“You care too much about what the world thinks. You’ve read that scandal sheet, that Whispers of the Ton, and you think—”

“It’s natural to consider what the world thinks!” she shot back boldly, color high and eyes bright. “Most of us are forced to live within the bounds of Society. There are certain expectations—”

“And some of us are born outside those bounds,” Frederick countered bitterly. “And that’s too large a step for you, isn’t it? Stepping outside of Society, toward me.”

“I will not be talked to like this,” Edie whispered, staring into his eyes. “Because you are so used to being brave, to ignoring everything Society says about you, you look at me, fawned over in the papers, and you think I—”

Something hardened within him. “I’m not brave, Edie. Bravery suggests a choice. I haven’t had a choice, this has been my life—it’s been handed to me and I’ve had to learn to live with it. But you… you have a choice.”

“I know,” she said, her voice so quiet he could barely hear it. “And… And I would have made it. But you don’t respect me. You laugh at my position in Society—”

Frederick released her face and turned away, groaning as the pain of her rejection filled him.

“I don’t—I can’t… “ He barked a dry laugh, tugging his cravat, which was inexplicably tightening. “I suppose all ladies are like this! No one wishes to ruin their reputation. I would know if I’d taken up Lindow’s offer to meet Miss Quintrell.”

The instant the words were out of his mouth, Frederick knew he had made a mistake.

Edie grabbed his arm, turning him around to face her—and now there was not indecision or hurt in her face, but anger. “Oh, so you have been lining up the next woman to kiss in a library and trick into an engagement?”

Frederick blinked. “Wh-What? No, no, it isn’t like—”

“So what was it?” she said sharply.

How had this happened? How had this conversation descended into such chaos, such a disaster?

A crushing sensation was pressing against his chest, making it almost impossible to speak. Impossible to think.

“It was just something Lindow said,” Frederick muttered, trying to avoid the accusatory glance in her gaze. “And it’s not as though—I mean, this engagement isn’t real! It’s all been pretend, hasn’t it? None of it has meant anything!”

“Hasn’t it?”

He knew it was too late to take back his words when he saw Edie’s face. All life was drained from it—the perfect, impassive lips, the dull, tired eyes. It was strange; William had once accused Frederick of shutting out the world with his expression when he did not want to be hurt.

He’d never understood what his half-brother had meant… until now.

“Good day, my lord,” said Edie quietly. “Please consider this pretend engagement, which meant nothing to you—”

“Edie—”

“—which meant nothing to you, to be at an end.”