Chapter Eight

November 21, 1812

“All I’m saying is—”

It was never just “all” and Frederick knew it. However, he kept his staid expression of mild interest fixed on his face, never faltering. He could never falter. Never let them see what was inside.

The plates were empty, the delicious food provided by the Duke of Cothrom’s cook swiftly demolished, and the wives had meandered off to discuss… Frederick was hardly sure. What did his three sisters-in-law discuss?

“Alice and I do not need your advice on this matter,” William said sternly to John, Marquess of Aylesbury. “We are raising Maude how we—”

“And I am saying, Florence and I would be more than happy to take her to the ballet, or something like that—when she’s older, I suppose,” said John with a shrug and a laughing grin. He was leaning back in his chair, obviously delighting in teasing the oldest Chance brother. “How old does a child have to be to appreciate the ballet, anyway? Four? Five?”

Frederick silently sipped his wine, watching the debate happening and trying not to smile. It was all too easy to tease William, and as long as he didn’t get involved, he could amuse himself.

His focus accidently meandered in the same path as George Chance, Earl of Lindow.

The darker man’s scowl became prominent instantly. Frederick looked away, lungs tight, hating how much his half-brother loathed him.

But there was nothing he could do. How did you get past twenty years of constant dislike?

“—and I met her,” John was saying triumphantly. “I met Miss Stewart—and I must say, you have made an excellent choice, Pernrith.”

Frederick jolted in his seat. Oh, hell, they weren’t going to talk about—

“I presumed I would be the first properly introduced to Miss Stewart,” said William, pouting. “Yes, I’ve met her during the Season earlier this year, though I was interrupted by Lady Romeril and had little chance to converse—but once she became the prospective bride of my brother, there is more etiquette involved in such an introduction. I am the head of this family, after all.”

Both John and George rolled their eyes, chuckling at the pompous nature of their eldest brother.

Frederick would have liked to do so, too. How pleasant it would have been to be a part of a family. To jest with them. To laugh, to tease, to know there was little he could do to overstep.

Not so, sadly. His place in this family, in the monthly family lunches—it was precarious.

Anything could break it.

“It was mere accident Aylesbury was with me when I happened upon Miss Stewart,” Frederick said as formally as he could manage. “There was no disrespect intend—”

“As it happens, I have met her,” William interjected with a sniff. “At Almack’s earlier this year. Very beautiful, Frederick. The flourishing rose, indeed.”

And just as Frederick knew he would, George snorted.

“Flourishing rose? How did he manage it, that’s what I want to know.” The Earl of Lindow pointed a fork across the table at Frederick, who worked hard to maintain his equilibrium. “A man like that, with a background like that—marry the flourishing rose?”

“She agreed to marry me and her father approved the match,” Frederick said curtly. “That’s all that—”

“I call it a farce,” George snapped. His ire was evident, the tension in his brow only growing as the conversation continued. “I refuse to believe you—that someone like you—”

Frederick was doing his best to stay calm, to ignore the waves of irritation threatening to seep into his very core, but it was a challenging thing. He’d thought Lindow had changed—if only slightly—the past few weeks. He’d come to him—to Frederick, of all the brothers—shortly before securing his own match. They’d had… an evening of sorts.

But the man hadn’t changed at all.

The monthly lunches between the four Chance brothers had been William’s idea. Of course it had. He was nature’s peacekeeper.

In the main, they were bearable. Sometimes, even mediocre. There had been one when George had been in Bath that Frederick had actually enjoyed.

But today?

George’s eye gleamed with malice as he continued to wave about his fork. There was a pea stuck on one of the tines. “I wouldn’t be surprised if she changed her mind, Pernrith. Realized she had made a mistake, that she would never wish to—”

“Thank you for your unsolicited advice,” Frederick interrupted, knowing his voice was no longer exuding the calm, unfettered strength it should have been. “Perhaps if you were more involved in my life, I would take that advice.”

Silence fell upon the dining room in Cothrom House.

Frederick was breathing more heavily than he ought to have been.

John shifted uneasily to his right. “Now then, men, there’s no need to—”

“I think it’s highly suspicious we’re only hearing about this engagement now,” George muttered. “I think—”

“Well, I don’t care what you think.” Frederick spoke over him as tranquilly as possible, but there was a bite to his tone he knew was audible. “You have never wished to know what was going on in my life until recently. I don’t see why you would interest yourself now.”

The man’s words cut only deeper with the truth that Edie—Miss Stewart—would not actually marry him. How the earl would gloat in a few weeks’ time.

“You’re going to be married, and that makes Miss Stewart our future sister-in-law,” William said stiffly. “It’s only natural—”

“His anger is not natural,” Frederick retorted, glancing at George.

The Earl of Lindow’s cheeks were pink now, but his glare remained defiant. “So you’re not going to introduce her to me, then?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to bite back that heaven and hell would have to move before he subjected Edie to George’s vicious dislike, but he did not say that.

Besides, it was a relatively valid request. If the engagement between Edie and himself had been true, he would have been expected to make the introductions to the whole family. Perhaps even present Lord Stewart and Mrs. Teagan to them as well, God help them all.

But as it was…

As it was, the engagement was entirely false. A part of him had hoped she’d felt the same about him as he felt about her, but there was no requited affection between them—plenty of lust, but that was about it. They had mutually agreed to pretend the engagement to maintain her reputation.

He was under no illusions. Miss Edie Stewart would be escaping his engagement as soon as possible. Introducing her to the family formally—God above, introducing her to George—would be a disaster.

There was no point getting the other three Chance brothers involved.

“Well, that’s how it is, is it?” George said into the silence. When Frederick looked up, he was glaring again. “I think you’ve got a lot of cheek, coming here and pretending to be a part of this family, when in truth—”

“It is not my fault how I was born, you idiot, and I am sick and tired of being treated differently because of it!”

Frederick clasped a hand over his mouth.

But it was too late. The words had left his mouth, making their escape and echoing around the impressive dining room.

George was staring, slack-jawed. William’s lips were tightly pursed and he was looking straight ahead, neither at George nor Frederick. John was clearly deeply uncomfortable, his hands twisting his napkin around and around.

Oh, hell. Twenty years of holding his tongue, desperately trying to earn their respect when Frederick knew that if he had been a true born son, it would have just been given…

And he’d had to go and wreck it all.

“My compliments to Alice,” he said gruffly, standing and throwing down his own napkin. “Good day, gentlemen.”

Frederick did not even look at George as he left the dining room. His temper was so fractious, he was certain if he even met the blaggard’s eye, he would say something unforgiveable.

Even more unforgiveable than he already had.

His bad mood followed him all afternoon. Rattling around Pernrith House, the small townhouse that had come with the gift of the title, Frederick had still felt his hackles raised and his temper frayed as he strode out in the evening air toward the Stewarts’ house.

He had been invited to dinner. More’s the pity.

It did not begin well.

“Ah,” said the butler warningly. “You.”

“‘My lord,’” snapped Frederick, pushing past him and handing over greatcoat, hat, and gloves to the nearby footman. “And the family is?”

It looked like the butler was seriously considering whether or not to ask Viscount Pernrith to leave. Clearly, the servants knew his full history, even if the daughter of the house did not.

Guilt washed through Frederick, intermingling with his exasperation and sparking even more irascibility through his lungs.

He really should tell her. He couldn’t just let Edie continue to waste her time, threaten her reputation, on a man like him. A bastard like him.

“The drawing room is over there, sir,” said the butler eventually, not bothering to escort him to the door, but merely pointing to it.

“‘My lord,’” ground out Frederick before striding over to the door the churlish man had indicated.

He managed to hold his tongue in the half an hour before dinner. This, in fact, was not as difficult as he had presumed it would be. Edie sat demure on a settee, quite unlike herself and not even meeting his eye. Lord Stewart explained Mrs. Teagan’s absence by suggesting she had a headache, but he quickly changed topics, as he had a great deal he evidently wished to say about what the wedding would be like: flowers, cake, hosting the wedding reception, demanding Edie go to the best modiste…

It all washed over Frederick’s head like water. What did it matter, anyway? They were not actually going to be married. It was all a lie—a farce.

And echoing in his mind, the cross words he had exchanged hours ago…

“I think you’ve got a lot of cheek, coming here and pretending to be a part of this family, when in truth—”

“It is not my fault how I was born, you idiot, and I am sick and tired of being treated differently because of it!”

Frederick almost forgot to lead Edie into the dining room when the gong rung out, but her father appeared to forgive that momentary lapse by chalking it up to good manners.

“No, no, it is your place to take her now,” Lord Stewart said gruffly. “Lord knows I have led her in more than enough times.”

Perhaps if Frederick had taken a second look at the older gentleman, he would have seen not gruffness, but sparkling tears in the man’s eyes. Perhaps he would have seen the gruffness as a struggling acceptance of the next stage in his daughter’s life. Perhaps then his heart would have softened.

As it was, Frederick marched Edie at a rapid pace through the door into the dining room and deposited her none too gently into her seat.

“What has gotten into you?” Edie hissed.

Frederick did not reply as he marched around the head of the table to sit on the other side of Lord Stewart, opposite his supposed intended. She was unable to repeat the question as her father took his seat between them.

“So, tell me,” said Lord Stewart formally, “how are your brothers?”

Of all the damned questions that he could ask me…

Try as he might, Frederick could not keep his voice level as he replied, “Two of them are doing well, and the third is an absolute fool.”

He glanced at Edie as he spoke. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes downcast, staring at the plate upon which a footman was serving the most delicate roasted quail and freshwater trout.

“Oh. I see.” Lord Stewart had nothing more to add, it seemed.

Frederick’s stomach churned. Fine, it was an idiotic thing to say . He should have known, better than anyone, how unfair it was to accuse a man of being a fool without any evidence—without the gentleman in question being present to defend himself.

But red-hot, bitter anger, the anger of years that had been repressed for so long, was pouring through his veins. Every pulse pushed it further through his body, taking over his reason and making it impossible to speak rationally.

He needed to calm down.

The dinner continued mostly quiet. It was only when dessert had been served—a luscious helping of pistachio and strawberry ices, the like of which Frederick had never seen—that Edie volunteered something herself.

“I had the pleasure of being introduced to the Marquess of Aylesbury a few days ago, Father.”

Frederick groaned internally and was not surprised when he saw the man on his left perk up.

“Truly? The Marquess of Aylesbury?”

“My brother,” Frederick said gloomily. “I think he was hoping for an introduction and so walked with me on just such an errand, Miss Stewart. You will have to forgive him.”

“There is nothing to forgive,” said Edie prettily.

But Frederick was still filled with the aggression that his interactions with George had wrought.

And that was why he could not halt his tongue from continuing, “My brother William, Duke of Cothrom, also wishes to formally meet you—but I won’t subject you to the company of Lindow. You don’t deserve that.”

Edie’s smile was tight. “I am sure I can decide whom I should and should not meet, my lord.”

“I doubt it,” snapped Frederick.

Cutlery clanged onto plates around the table. He swallowed.

Well, hang it all, that wasn’t what he’d meant . He hadn’t meant to suggest Edie could not make those decisions for herself—obviously, she could. He had just meant—Lindow was hardly a man to be trusted. God knew what he would say to Edie, the brute could be quite—

“I think I shall retire,” Lord Stewart said. “Edie?” He rose from the table, his arm extended in Edie’s direction. “Shall we see our guest out?”

The aggravatingly beautiful lady dabbed at her lips with a napkin. “I’m not quite finished, Father. Neither is Lord Pernrith, by the looks of it.” She glanced Frederick’s way.

Yes, his ice was in danger of melting onto the table at this point. As delicious as it was, he couldn’t quite stomach the sweetness at the moment.

Lord Stewart frowned, his elbow sinking back against his side. “Perhaps I shall see if Mrs. Teagan feels well enough to join you.”

“No need.” Edie set her napkin down and picked up her spoon. Her gaze flicked to the footmen standing behind Frederick. “I shan’t be long, Father. And Jenkins will join me in seeing our guest out, I’m sure.”

If Jenkins was the name of the butler, Frederick was certain the man would love to see him out the door.

Lord Stewart seemed to think over it, his eyes darting to the servants present, then nodded. “Only a few minutes more, mind you.” Without another word, he strode out of the dining room.

The footman who’d held the door open for him snapped it shut behind him.

“That will be all, thank you,” said Edie with flushing cheeks.

For a moment, Frederick had no idea what she was talking about, but then he saw the movement of the two footmen behind him. They followed their master out of the door that led into the main hall, and the snick of the door shutting behind them echoed painfully around the room.

He hoped the news of Edie’s machinations to get the two of them alone wouldn’t reach Lord Stewart or Jenkins before the woman had said her piece.

Or maybe he did hope they found out soon enough. Then he could be on his way and put this blasted day behind him.

“Right,” said Edie, leaning her elbows on the dining table and examining him closely. “What is it?”

“What is what?” Frederick said petulantly.

He hated the way he had spoken the instant the words had been out of his mouth. Was this what he was reduced to? A mere child who threw a tantrum when he did not get his wish?

There was only so long a man could take always being criticized, always being on the edge, never feeling a true part of a family. Perhaps he had finally reached his limit. He had never known before today if there truly was a limit, or whether he would just allow Lindow to push him around for the rest of his life.

Frederick swallowed. “I am sorry. I… I apologize.”

He managed to meet Edie’s gaze. He had expected… sorrow. Empathy. Compassion.

Instead, he stared into golden-brown eyes of sharp fury.

“Just because this is not a true engagement,” Edie said firmly, “that does not mean you can be so rude. To myself, or my father.”

Frederick swallowed hard, his throat dry. “I said I was—”

“And did you mean it?” she countered before he could finish.

He instinctively started to say yes . Yes, he was sorry. He would not have said it if he had not meant it.

But Frederick halted and forced himself to do what he loathed. He inspected his heart.

There was sorrow there, to be sure—but it was primarily directed at himself. He felt a great deal of sorrow for his own position, for the frustration of being born illegitimate, for always being on the outside, looking in.

In truth, until she had challenged him on it, there had not been a great deal of regret for the way he had spoken to Edie.

Until now.

Frederick slumped in his seat. “I do apologize, Edie. I… I had no right to speak to either of you like that.”

His eyes had fallen to his plate as he’d spoken, so he was not sure what Edie’s expression was. The silence, however, lingered on for almost a full minute before he gained the bravery to look up.

Edie was leaning her chin on her hands, examining him thoughtfully. “You know,” she said softly. “Just because I am—because Society considers me beautiful, that does not mean I am invulnerable. That I should be treated poorly or that anyone can just speak to me how they please.”

Panic, a desperate need to explain poured through Frederick. “That wasn’t—I would never treat you badly because you’re beautiful!”

The very idea was astonishing. Why on earth would Edie think such a thing?

Was it—surely, it was impossible gentlemen in the past had spoken poorly to her merely because she was so handsome, they found her to be without feeling?

And Frederick took a slow and careful look at the woman before him.

Elegance personified. A delicacy of mouth and nose any artist would have wept over. If a bust were made of her and placed among those from Rome and Greece, Edie’s face would not have been out of place.

And that was just her shoulders upward. Frederick could not deny that the suggestion of her form through her gowns made it clear Edie was the pinnacle of perfection—at least, in the eyes of the ton . The fashion for small, pert breasts and a waist over swelling hips had been personified in the woman before him.

And she was—

Clever .

There was a sparkle in those magnificent eyes. The color alone was not what made Edie beautiful—it was the intelligence that lingered there. The mouth, lips perfect for kissing, was pursed in a knowing smile. The fingers splayed under her chin were elegantly held as though… as though on purpose to frame her face.

She knew what she was doing. And Frederick had, ever since he had first met her, greatly underestimated Miss Edith Stewart.

“You weren’t rude because I am beautiful?” Edie raised an eyebrow. “Well, in that case, you must have an explanation as to the insolence. We are supposed to be engaged to be married, after all.”

Her imperious look was magnificent and Frederick’s mouth went dry as he considered.

It wasn’t as though he could actually explain.

Where would he start? Being abandoned on the doorsteps of Stanphrey Lacey? Being told, on an almost daily basis, he was not to disturb “the true sons of the house”? Watching them go off to Eton as he’d traipsed to the local school, where he’d been ostracized for not being a country boy and gawped at for being a bastard?

Frederick swallowed. Perhaps in another life, he could have tried to make Edie see just where this anger, this rage had come from.

But they weren’t even truly engaged. It was all a farce, a pretense she had requested to salvage her reputation without actually going through with the honorable deed. She didn’t want to marry him.

“You don’t want to marry me.”

“Obviously not.”

There are no confidences expected between two people who are not engaged , Frederick told himself.

“I have no reason,” he said quietly. “No excuse. I am sorry, Edie, truly.”

For a moment, she examined him as though her gaze could pierce his very soul. As though her understanding were stronger than that of any gentleman he had ever encountered. As though she could read his thoughts and know he was lying to her.

A lie by omission, which felt less guilt-inducing than a bare-faced lie.

But still.

“You can talk to me, you know,” Edie said softly. “I know we’re not—that this isn’t a true partnership. But I would like to be a… a friend to you, Frederick Chance. If you would let me.”

Frederick hesitated.

It sounded wonderful—in theory.

A friend. He couldn’t recall ever having a friend, not a true friend. There were those who had attempted to grow close to him upon discovering his wealthy and well-born half-brothers. There were those who had considered him a soft target for a little light beating, which Frederick had seen swiftly off.

But someone who truly wished to know him, for himself? To listen to his thoughts, answer his questions, laugh with him?

The idea of his first true friend being a woman was, naturally, ridiculous.

Frederick shook his head. “I thank you, but there are… there are no hidden depths to this, I assure you. Just a fractious man who should have known better.”

Edie looked as though she were going to say something—perhaps refute his comment. But instead, she folded her hands in her lap. “Then your apology is accepted.”

She smiled and the temperature of the room transformed. It was as though the sun itself had decided to come for dinner, the place becoming radiant. Frederick groaned as the warmth of her expression bathed his bones in much needed cordiality.

“My father likes you.”

Frederick snorted. “It’s very kind of you to say so, but—”

“I speak the truth—it’s the only way I know,” Edie said, a slight teasing twist creasing her lips. “Honestly, I think he is more impressed than he expected.”

It was all he could do to keep a straight face. Yes, he supposed Lord Stewart had expected the worst of the bastard viscount. Perhaps he had displayed the worst of his character to the man this evening, but if he still liked him after this…

“After all, there is no reason why my father would not like you, is there?” said Edie lightly.

Frederick hesitated. This was it—the perfect moment to explain his history.

But she was so… so good. Beautiful, yes, but there was an innocence, a sweet naivety in Edie that he just could not bring himself to end.

Once a woman like that knew the world was a dangerous, sordid, double-crossing place, she would never be able to unsee it. He would have ruined that for her—and he wouldn’t. He just couldn’t.

“No reason at all,” said Frederick as frivolously as he could manage. “Save for my terrible manners.”

Edie paused a moment, pursing her lips. But then she chuckled.

And their laughter filled the dining room, and the sun shone.