Chapter 18
Chapter 18
Edward awkwardly adjusted his cravat as he waited for Emily at the foot of the staircase. His mind drifted to Catherine, as it so often did these days.
Her eyes, her mouth… the way she looked so beautifully at peace when she slept and the way her eyes blazed when she was angry. He shook his head, trying to banish thoughts of her. Tonight was about reconnecting with Isabella, about showing Emily a bit more of society. Catherine had no place in his musings.
And yet...
“Edward! How do I look?” He looked up at the sound of Emily’s excited voice and a smile appeared when he saw his sister descending the stairs, a vision in pale green silk.
“You look beautiful, Em,” he said warmly, offering her his arm. “Lady Isabella will not believe that it is you—you look like a real lady.”
Emily grinned, her eyes sparkling. “Do you really think so? Oh, I am so excited, Edward. I cannot believe we are going out for a second time!”
Edward felt a pang of guilt at her words. Had he truly kept her so isolated? “Well then,” he said, forcing a smile, “we should not keep our hostess waiting.”
The carriage ride to Isabella's estate was filled with Emily's excited chatter. Edward found himself responding with nods and noncommittal hums, his mind elsewhere. He could not help but think of Catherine, left behind at Wessex Manor. What was she doing now? Was she thinking of him?
He shook his head again, more forcefully this time. These thoughts were dangerous, foolish. Catherine was his employee, nothing more. And Isabella... well, Isabella was a connection to his past, to the man he used to be.
As they pulled up to Isabella’s grand home, Edward felt a flutter of nervousness in his stomach. It had been so long since he had done this—since he had been part of society. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.
“Ready?” he asked Emily, who nodded eagerly.
Isabella met them at the door, a vision in deep blue silk that set off her golden curls perfectly. “Edward, darling,” she purred, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “And Emily! My goodness, how you have grown. You look positively radiant.”
Emily blushed prettily at the compliment, and Edward felt a surge of pride. His little sister truly was becoming a lovely young woman.
“Thank you for having us, Isabella,” Edward said, his voice formal. “It has been far too long.”
Isabella’s smile was dazzling. “Indeed it has. Come, let me show you to the dining room. I have had the cook prepare all your favorites, Edward.”
As they followed Isabella through the opulent halls, Edward could not help but compare her to Catherine. Where Isabella was all polish and perfection, Catherine was warmth and realness. Isabella’s laugh was a tinkling, practiced thing, while Catherine’s was full and genuine.
He shook his head slightly. What was wrong with him? Isabella was everything a man in his position could want—beautiful, well-bred, connected. And yet...
The dinner itself was a sumptuous affair. Course after course of exquisitely prepared dishes were brought out, each more delectable than the last. Emily’s eyes grew wide with each new plate.
“Oh, Edward,” she whispered at one point, leaning a bit closer to him. “This is incredible. I must say, it is far better than Mr. Harper’s cooking, do you not agree? Do you think we could steal Isabella’s chef?”
Despite the twinge of pain coursing through his heart at this, Edward chuckled. “I am not quite sure that would be proper, Em,” he teased. “But perhaps we could ask for some recipes.”
Despite his quick dismissal of Catherine’s concern, he could not help but glance at Isabella when Samuel Harper was mentioned. Isabella, however, remained the perfect hostess—not showing in any manner that the man mentioned mattered to her, or that she’d even heard it.
“So, Emily,” she said, flashing his sister a dazzling smile. “Tell me. How are the studies going, dearest? Are you enjoying it?”
Edward kept his gaze downward as Emily’s answer washed over him. “Oh, I love it more than anything,” she said quickly. “My governess, Miss Winslow, is lovely—so well-read, and she has a way of sharing the beauty of literature…”
Isabella’s smile stiffened somewhat at the mention of Catherine and Edward felt his heart jerk painfully.
“I have never been one to understand literature,” Isabella said with a pout. “Oh, but give me the basics of running a household, of dressing to perfection… and I could do that with closed eyes. I so admire you, Emily—for enjoying the less important parts of your education. I was never that dedicated.”
A slight frown furrowed Edward’s brow at this. He was not entirely certain, but he had the distinct feeling that there was a bit of a bite to her words. She was quick to change the conversation, however—remaining the ever-perfect hostess.
And yet, Edward found his attention wandering. He found himself wishing for Catherine’s quick wit, her insightful observations. Isabella’s stories, while entertaining, seemed somehow shallow in comparison to the deep discussions he had had with Catherine in the library.
“Edward?” Isabella’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You seem distracted, darling. Is everything alright?”
He blinked, forcing himself to focus. “My apologies, Isabella. I was just... thinking about some estate matters. You were saying?”
Isabella’s smile was indulgent. “I was just telling Emily about a summer ball I was invited to. I do hope you will both attend.”
Emily’s face lit up. “Oh, may we, Edward? Please?”
Edward hesitated. Another social engagement so soon? But the hope in Emily’s eyes was impossible to resist. “I suppose we will see, but I cannot see why not,” he heard himself say.
As the evening wore on, Edward found himself relaxing slightly. It was... nice, he had to admit, to be out in society again. To see Emily laughing and engaged in conversation. Perhaps Catherine had been right about the importance of re-entering the world.
Catherine. Again, his thoughts turned to her. What would she think of this dinner? Would she be proud of Emily’s growing confidence in social situations? Would she...
“Edward?” Emily’s voice was soft, and she stifled a yawn. “I think I am ready to go home now.”
Edward flashed his sister a tender smile. It was, of course, wildly improper but he could not expect her to know much better. “Would you excuse us, if we leave now, Isabella?” he asked, rising from his seat. “I can see that a second social night is becoming a bit much for young Emily.”
Isabella’s smile was understanding. “Of course, darling. Emily must be exhausted. But Edward... might I have a word with you in private before you go?”
Edward nodded, a bit warily. “Of course. Emily, why don’t you wait in the carriage? I’ll be along shortly.”
Emily rushed out with a nod and Isabella led Edward to a small sitting room off the main hall. The moment the door closed behind them, she turned to him, her eyes intense.
“Edward, darling,” she said softly, stepping closer to him. “I have missed you. So much.”
Before he could respond, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. It only lasted a second before Edward realized that he felt no spark, no desire and he pushed her away at once.
Catherine.
He could not help but feel as though it would betray her to kiss Isabella, as mad a thought as it was.
Edward pulled back, his mind reeling. Isabella looked up at him, her eyes shining with hope and something else... calculation?
“Isabella,” he said gently, “I…”
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Hush,” she murmured. “Don’t say anything, darling. Just... think about it. About us. About what we could be together.”
Edward simply nodded, not trusting himself to speak. He needed to leave, to think, to sort out the tumult of emotions swirling within him.
“Goodnight, Isabella,” he said finally. “Thank you again for dinner.”
As he made his way to the carriage, Edward’s mind was in chaos. The kiss with Isabella had confirmed what he had been trying to deny—there was something, something he could not quite name, between him and Catherine.
But what could he do about it? Catherine was his employee, far below his station. It could never end well.
Emily was half-asleep when he climbed into the carriage. “Did you have a nice talk with Lady Isabella?” she mumbled tiredly.
Edward forced a smile. “Yes,” he muttered. “Yes, it was… alright.”
As the carriage rolled toward Wessex Manor, Edward gazed out the window, lost in thought. He had some difficult decisions to make, some hard truths to face.
But one thing was certain—he could no longer deny the depth of his feelings for Catherine Winslow.
***
Catherine paced the length of the library, her mind whirling incessantly. The stolen letter felt like a lead weight in her pocket, a constant reminder of the danger that might be lurking within the very walls of Wessex Manor. She paused by the window, gazing out at the darkening grounds, her reflection a pale ghost in the glass.
What was she to do with this information? Should she involve Emily? The young girl was perceptive and cared deeply for her brother. But no, Catherine shook her head at the thought. Emily had already lost so much of her childhood to tragedy and fear. She deserved what little innocence she had left.
Perhaps she should continue to push Edward to investigate? But their last confrontation still stung, his dismissal of her concerns cutting deeper than she cared to admit. If she pressed the issue, she risked not only her position but also... whatever it was that existed between them.
“I could just... let it be,” Catherine murmured to herself, the words tasting bitter on her tongue. “Focus on my duties, on Emily’s education. Let whatever happens, happen.”
But even as the thought formed, she knew she could never do it. She cared too deeply for this family—for both Emily and Edward—to stand idly by while danger circled them.
How could she protect both herself and the family at the same time? It seemed she was at an impasse, with no clear path forward.
There was only one thing to do, she decided at last. She would have to watch Samuel Harper closely. Despite having stolen his letter, she decided to treat him with kindness, hoping to appeal to his better nature. Perhaps, if she could gain his trust, he might reveal something of importance.
As evening fell and the manor grew quiet, Catherine found herself growing increasingly anxious. Edward and Emily were still at Isabella’s dinner, and the silence of the house felt oppressive. She tried to distract herself with lesson plans, but her mind kept drifting to Edward in the company of the beautiful Lady Isabella Fairfax.
The sound of carriage wheels on gravel jerked her from her thoughts. Heart pounding, Catherine made her way to the entrance hall, arriving just as Edward and Emily stepped inside. Though she was visibly tired, Emily’s face was flushed with excitement. Edward on the other hand... Catherine's heart sank as she took in his preoccupied expression, the tension in his shoulders.
“Welcome home, My Lord, Lady Emily,” she said, forcing a smile. “I trust you had a pleasant evening?”
Edward barely glanced at her. “It was fine,” he said curtly, already moving toward the stairs. “Emily, do not stay up too late. You have lessons in the morning.”
Emily waited until her brother was out of earshot before turning to Catherine, her eyes shining. “Oh, Miss Winslow, it was wonderful! Lady Isabella’s home is so beautiful, and the food was simply divine. And she was so kind and interesting…”
Catherine tried to focus on Emily's enthusiastic recounting, but her attention kept drifting to Edward's retreating form. What had happened at dinner to put him in such a mood? The preoccupied expression on his face and his silence worried her deeply.
After seeing Emily to bed, Catherine found herself restless and unable to sleep. Her mind raced with thoughts of Edward, of the potential dangers lurking in the shadows, of her own conflicted feelings. Before she could talk herself out of it, she found herself outside Edward's private quarters, her heart beating wildly as she raised her hand to knock.
She wasn't sure why she was here. Was it jealousy? Protectiveness? Lust? All she knew was that she needed to see him, to speak to him.
The door swung open, revealing a surprised Edward. His hair was mussed, and he looked tired, clearly having been unable to sleep as well.
“Miss Winslow?” he said, his voice rough with surprise. “What are you doing here?”
Catherine took a deep breath. “My Lord, I... I needed to speak with you. May I come in?”
Edward hesitated for a moment before stepping aside. Once inside, Catherine turned to face him, suddenly unsure of what to say.
“I wanted to... that is, I hope the dinner went well,” she began awkwardly.
Edward ran a hand through his hair, sighing. “It was fine,” he said finally. “Though it is certainly not enough reason for you to come to my bedchamber in the middle of the night.”
Catherine felt her face flush. “I know,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t have. Forgive me.”
His voice interrupted her as she turned to leave. “You were right, you know.”
Catherine blinked in surprise and turned back to him. “Right about what?”
“About encouraging me to go to the ball, to reconnect with society,” Edward explained. “It was time to move on, to remember that there is a world beyond these walls and the ghosts that haunt my memory. Your presence here... it's reminded me that there's life outside of my own dark obsessions.”
Catherine’s heart raced at his words. “I am glad,” she said softly. “I only want what is best for you, Edward. For you and Emily. You must believe that I am only trying to protect you.”
Edward’s expression softened. “I know,” he murmured, taking a step closer to her. “And I am grateful for it, even if I do not always show it.”
The air between them seemed to crackle with tension. Catherine was acutely aware of Edward's proximity, of the warmth radiating from his body. Before she could think better of it, she found herself leaning toward him.
Then, suddenly, their lips met in a kiss that was passionate and desperate—neither of them truly expected it, but they were unable to resist. Catherine’s hand fisted in Edward’s shirt as his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her even closer.
When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily. Edward leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed.
“This… it is impossible,” he murmured. “We are impossible. You know that, do you not?”
Catherine nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She knew that he was right—the differences in their stations, the complications of their positions… it could never work. And yet… she could not bring herself to pull away.
“We… we should stop,” Edward muttered, even as his hands tightened on her waist.
“We should,” Catherine agreed, her body pressing closer to his.
For an excruciating minute, neither of them moved. Then, their lips met again—the kiss deeper and far more urgent this time. Catherine’s hands moved from Edward’s shirt to tangle in his hair and pull him closer. Edward groaned softly, his own hands roaming her back, tracing the curve of her spine.
Without breaking the kiss, Edward began walking them backwards toward his bed. Catherine’s knees hit the edge, and she fell back onto the soft mattress, pulling Edward down with her. He braced himself above her, his eyes dark with desire as he gazed down at her.
“Catherine,” he murmured, his voice husky. “We shouldn’t…”
“I know,” she whispered, but her hands were already working at the buttons of his shirt.
Edward’s hands traveled down to cup her breasts before trailing a path down her waist. “We shouldn’t,” he repeated. “But I want to. God help me, I want you, Catherine.”
With a deep, guttural growl, Edward captured her lips again. His hands fumbled with the laces of her dress, loosening them just enough to expose the soft skin of her shoulders. Immediately his lips latched onto her milky skin, trailing a path along her jaw, down her neck and eliciting a soft, needy moan from Catherine.
Catherine arched into him, her body on fire wherever he touched her. She managed to push his shirt off his shoulders and ran her hands over the planes of his chest. Edward shuddered at her touch, his control visibly slipping.
Both of them breathed heavily, their clothes disheveled, and their hair mussed. Catherine’s dress was halfway undone, exposing the tops of her breasts while Edward’s shirt lay discarded on the floor.
His hand moved slowly, trailing a path up her creamy thigh to the warmth that exuded from her center. They were teetering on the edge, so close to the point of no return. Catherine could feel the hard length of Edward pressed against her thigh, and she ached to feel him closer, to join their bodies as completely as their hearts seemed to be.
“Oh, Edward,” she gasped as his hand cupped her breast through the thin fabric of her chemise. “Please…”
Something in her voice seemed to break through the haze of desire. Edward froze, his eyes widening—as if he suddenly realized the full extent of what they were about to do.
“No,” he managed to strangle out. “No, we cannot. We cannot do this, Catherine.”
With what seemed like a monumental effort, Edward pulled away from Catherine. He stood up, running a shaking hand through his hair as he turned his back to her.
“Edward?” Catherine’s voice was small and confused. She sat up slowly, trying to cover herself with the loosened bodice of her dress.
“You need to leave,” Edward said, his voice rough. He kept his back turned to her firmly. “Please, Catherine. You need to go. Now.”
Catherine swallowed at the tears threatening to well up in her eyes. “I… I don’t understand,” she whispered. “I thought…”
“It matters not what you thought,” Edward interrupted her, his voice almost sad. “This can never happen. Do you understand? Never. We got carried away, but it ends here. It has to. I… I am not free to love in the manner that I wish to.”
Catherine could feel the tears escaping her eyes and she stood on shaky legs, fumbling to lace up her dress. “Edward,” she pleaded softly. “Please look at me.”
Still, he refused. His back remained resolutely turned to her, his shoulders tense. “Just go, Catherine. Please. Before I... before we do something we cannot take back.”
Hurt and confusion warred within Catherine as she made her way to the door. She paused with her hand on the knob, looking back at Edward's rigid form. “I… I am sorry,” she whispered, though in truth she was not entirely sure what she was apologizing for.
As the door closed behind her, Catherine leaned against it, her heart breaking. On the other side, she could hear a muffled thud, as if Edward had punched the wall in frustration.