Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

E dward slowly and somewhat mechanically followed Sebastian up the stairs of their London residence. He’d been a bit lifeless since he’d received the report from the investigator earlier that morning.

The news that Violet was in London but showed no signs of distress should have been a relief, and the fact that it was a disappointment instead did not speak well of his character.

What was wrong with him?

Why was he so invested in what happened to Violet? And why had he been hoping he’d need to sweep in and save the day?

It was partly the kiss.

But it wasn’t just the kiss that made him want to go to her. He’d wanted to save her before he knew what her lips tasted like. The fact that she didn’t want his help chafed more than it should.

Refusing his proposal.

Leaving without so much as a goodbye.

She had made her position abundantly clear.

Still, the urge to confirm with his own eyes that she was well had not dissipated after he’d read the report. If anything, the urge had gotten stronger now that he knew where to find her.

In an attempt to distract himself, he’d accompanied Sebastian to his club, but it hadn’t worked. Edward had thought about her the entire time they were there. She was an itch he couldn’t scratch. An itch he shouldn’t scratch.

“I might return to Greydon Hall,” he said to Sebastian, as he handed his hat to the butler. If he didn’t leave London, he would find himself on her doorstep within days. Or possibly hours. Nothing good would come of that. He could only imagine how displeased she’d be to see him again.

“You just returned from the cottage, and you wish to leave again?”

“London doesn’t suit me,” he stated, as if it were an indisputable fact rather than a bunch of rubbish.

“London is not your problem.” Sebastian removed his greatcoat and straightened his cuffs. “Are you sure leaving is the answer?”

Of course he wasn’t. “Perhaps Belinda will accompany me.”

“I highly doubt it. She’s oddly committed to remaining with Emmeline until after the babe is born. I have offered her multiple opportunities to leave, and she has insisted on remaining here with the family.”

“Belinda’s going to remain here that long?” Edward shook his head. “It’ll be months before the babe arrives.”

Sebastian shrugged. “You can ask if she wants to go, just be prepared for her to decline.”

“Belinda hates London,” he mumbled unhappily. He’d had the misfortune of listening to her complain about all manner of things regarding her failed season enough times to know that she greatly preferred the country.

Sebastian shrugged again. “She doesn’t seem to mind it as much now that she isn’t being forced to socialize. Emmeline thinks Belinda craves connection, and since our childhood was not conducive to developing the proper skills for forging relationships, she’s having a hard time figuring out how to go about it.”

Edward frowned. Was Emmeline correct? Was Belinda reaching for something she needed but couldn’t seem to find?

Inadequacy slammed into him, and even though he knew he shouldn’t blame himself, he felt responsible for her struggles. He had tried so hard to be what his family needed.

In spite of his efforts, he couldn’t deny that their childhood had been less than ideal. Their parents had been woefully unloving toward their children. Belinda had been young when their father died, but not so young that she couldn’t remember what it’d been like when he’d been alive. She’d been ignored as much as he and Sebastian had been.

It was curious that it had affected them all so differently. Sebastian had retreated into himself. Edward had attempted to be everything for everyone. And Belinda had lashed out. All of them had struggled to fill the void left by their parents. At least Sebastian had eventually found happiness with Emmeline.

While he and Belinda were still woefully alone.

“You’re serious about allowing Belinda to remain unwed, then? You aren’t going to casually force eligible gentlemen into her sphere?” he asked, as he followed his brother deeper into the house.

“I’m not sure she should remain unwed, but it’s what she wants, and I promised her I would allow her to decide.”

“You won’t try to convince her she’s wrong?”

“Of course not. I have never once introduced her to a man with the intent that she’d marry him.” Sebastian frowned at Edward over his shoulder before he disappeared through the open door at the end of the hallway.

Edward was half a dozen steps behind so he heard Sebastian say—“Belinda”—before he stepped into the room. It took barely a step for him to realize his sister was not alone, and it took precisely two more steps for him to realize who sat across from her.

Violet.

With Isabelle at her side.

His foot hovered over the ground, and his momentum propelled him forward so he almost stumbled. It was uncharacteristically clumsy of him, and he was sure everyone noticed although no one—not even Belinda—pointed it out.

If he’d had a million opportunities, he would never have guessed he’d find Violet conversing with his sister. He had so many questions, but the only thing he could manage to say was, “Is something amiss? Are you well?”

He rushed to her, dropped to his knees, and grabbed her hands. She appeared unharmed, and although her wardrobe had not improved, her hair was tidily knotted at her nape, and her skin radiated health. Her cheeks took on a ruddy hue under his regard, but he wasn’t the slightest bit embarrassed by his behavior even when he noticed Belinda smirking at him.

“I’m…uh…fine,” she responded, in a way that made her sound anything but fine.

“Why are you here? Do you require my assistance?” he demanded far too intensely.

Sebastian cleared his throat, and Edward deeply regretted how much he’d revealed to his family. He might not have given them all the details, but he’d given them enough to make Violet uncomfortable. Especially if she’d spent much time with Belinda.

He gazed into her eyes as if they held all the answers, but her expression told him nothing. What had happened before he’d returned from the club?

He could only imagine what his sister might have told Violet. Or what she might have told Belinda. He’d never live that stolen kiss down. Not in a million years. Belinda would crow about it for the rest of their lives, ruining the memory forever.

Violet swallowed and looked beyond him. “My situation remains unchanged. I returned to London in order to force the matter, but I seemed to have failed spectacularly.”

“Basil is still insisting on marrying you?” he clarified.

Sebastian cleared his throat once again, but Edward ignored him. His brother would have to wait until he knew what Violet needed from him.

“That is correct. I thought…perhaps…”

“You’ve rethought my proposal?”

His cravat was suddenly too tight. She had come to him. In his brother’s house. Was she going to accept? Why did the prospect both terrify and excite him?

“I have stipulations,” she responded primly as she tugged her hands free.

Leaning back so he wasn’t tempted to reach for her again, he nodded rapidly, his heart expanding at her apparent agreement.

“Of course…yes…obviously.” He waited for her to start listing her stipulations, but instead, she turned her attention to his brother.

Sebastian. Of course. He hadn’t even introduced them. Clearly, he needed to do so. Once that was done, he would take her elsewhere. The last thing they needed while they conversed was Sebastian hovering and making her rethink what she wanted.

He rolled to his feet and said, “Sebastian, please allow me to introduce Miss Violet Shaw and Miss Isabelle Shaw.” He gestured toward the women. “This is my brother, Lord Greydon.”

The expression on Violet’s face as she eyed Sebastian was a dare. Or a challenge.

Sebastian inclined his head, while Violet and Isabelle rose and offered halting curtsies.

“It is lovely to meet you,” Violet murmured.

“We had a delightful conversation before you returned home,” Belinda interjected with a devious grin. He hadn’t seen his sister look this happy in months, and while he appreciated her joy, he had never been surer that he didn’t want to know what they had discussed.

“How pleasant,” he responded with a warning glance at her.

She cackled in response, while Violet and Isabelle looked between them. He could only imagine what they might be thinking as he stood between his stern older brother and his blunt younger sister. The encounter hadn’t become a disaster yet, but he could well imagine it devolving into one.

“Where is Emmeline?” Sebastian asked Belinda, his gaze darting about the room.

“She was a bit weary, so she retired to her bedchamber.”

“She is ill?” Sebastian asked sharply.

“No. She is—” Before Belinda could finish, Sebastian spun on his heel and disappeared into the hallway.

“Emmeline is expecting, and Sebastian is a bit concerned,” Edward attempted to explain.

Violet and Isabelle nodded.

“That’s sweet of him,” Violet said.

An awkward silence fell. Belinda widened her eyes and tipped her head toward the door.

Did she want him to leave or was she going to?

He quirked his brow, and she sighed. “Violet was telling me?—"

“—I could give you and Isabelle a tour of the library,” he suggested abruptly, cutting his sister off before she could finish her sentence.

Violet bit her lip. “I would like that.”

He braced himself for Belinda to insist on joining them, but she waved them away and retook her seat. Violet and Isabelle thanked Belinda for her hospitality and curtsied again before following him out of the room.

“Remember what I said,” Belinda called out before they got too far away to hear.

He refused to dwell on what she might have told Violet. Instead, he focused on the fact that Violet had come to him. It was wholly unexpected. And more welcome than he wanted to admit. The restlessness that had accompanied him from the cottage had dissolved immediately when he’d seen her.

He ushered her into the small library. It was nothing like the library at Greydon Hall, much less grand. The books were newer and the collection less impressive. Only two walls had shelves, and it was not large enough for a truly private conversation, but none of his siblings were lurking, so at least they wouldn’t be distracted. In an attempt to create as much privacy as he could, he placed his hand at Violet’s back and steered her toward the corner farthest from the door, while Isabelle helpfully perused the shelf closest to the door.

“I didn’t expect to find you here,” he murmured quietly. “But I’m delighted that you are.”

She frowned. “You wanted me to come to your brother’s house?”

“I wanted to assure myself that you were well. You left without a word. I didn’t know where you went or if you were safe, and I could not help but worry.”

She studied his face as if trying to decipher whether he told the truth. “I apologize for giving you cause to worry. It was not my intention, and as you can see, we are perfectly safe. We came straight to London on the mail coach. I thought…I came to…I confronted Basil and he”—she chewed on her lip—“ignored me. Again. I can marry him.” She hesitated. “Or I can marry you. I have no other realistic options.”

His happiness deflated at the miserable look on her face. He couldn’t savor her acquiescence, nor should he accept it, because she was in an impossible situation. Marrying a woman who had no other options was cruel and unfair.

It was not an invitation to happiness.

Not for either of them.

He knew that now, even if he hadn’t known it then.

“I cannot marry you,” he told her gently, even though he absolutely still wanted to.

“What?” She stepped into his space, her hands latching onto his biceps and her eyes glittering dangerously. “You’ve changed your mind?”

“Not at all,” he rushed to reassure her.

She squeezed his bicep harder and stepped even closer. Her eyes flashed, and he caught a whiff of her scent. He inhaled through his nose and willed himself to focus. “I would be more than happy to become your husband, but you feel trapped between two things you don’t want. What kind of man would I be if I took advantage of your situation? Basil might not listen to you, but I am not him, and I will not allow you to sacrifice yourself. We will find another way to break your betrothal and secure your freedom.”

He wished he’d tasked the investigator with discovering more than her well-being. He should have learned all he could about Basil, her inheritance, and her father’s work. Then he would have a better idea of what they could do to oust the other man from her life and her livelihood.

And how long it would take.

She released his arms and stabbed him in the chest with her finger. “You aren’t listening to me. I accepted your proposal. I’ve thought about little else since I left the cottage. Marrying you is my choice.”

“But you don’t want to.” He hated arguing against himself, but someone had to look out for her interests, and if she wasn’t going to, then he would.

She pulled her finger back and stabbed him again. “You are an infuriating man. You claim you want to help me. You offer to marry me. But then when I agree, you decide I don’t know my own mind. Is it or isn’t it my prerogative to reevaluate my situation and change my decision?”

When she put it that way—“It is. Of course it is.”

“And your offer stands?”

“It does, but?—”

“No.” She stabbed him again. “It either stands, or it does not.”

He took an unsteady breath. “It does.”

Her gaze dipped to his lips and then slowly returned to his eyes. Maybe the brief flare of passion they’d shared had made an impact on her too. And maybe, just maybe, she had thought about it once or twice in the days since.

He couldn’t help hoping, even if it seemed unlikely.

“If that is the case, you do not get to decide for me.” Her palm flattened over his heart like she was claiming it. “I will marry you at your earliest convenience.”

Her fierceness did something to him.

It made him feel protective. But also protected.

There was no way to know if she would come to love him, or if he would come to love her, but it was a risk he was willing to take because he could see the possibility. In coming to him, she had proven that she was strong enough to claim the future she wanted.

Furthermore, it was clear that she would not allow him to make decisions on her behalf. Edward couldn’t pinpoint exactly why, but he liked that about her. It offered a freedom he hadn’t known he desired. “You are certain?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Yes. I shall not change my mind, and I would appreciate it if you would cease doubting my word.”

The urge to kiss her, to take her into his arms, was difficult to ignore. He glanced over her shoulder at Isabelle who was leaning against the window, staring directly at them, no longer pretending to give them privacy. He willed her to leave, but she didn’t so much as shift, so he turned his attention back to Violet. “It would be my pleasure to marry you.”

Violet stepped backward, and he immediately felt the loss of her palm against his chest.

“Thank you.” She nodded, once again under control, her fire hidden beneath layers of restraint. “Can we discuss my stipulations now?”

Her voice was calmer and more modulated, and a part of him wanted to argue with her so he could witness the fire once again, but he resisted the urge and nodded instead.

“No mistresses. In fact, no other women at all. I will not share.” She looked him straight in the eye and pressed her lips together as if daring him to disagree.

He wasn’t foolish enough to do so.

“Agreed.” He hadn’t so much as kissed a woman other than her in months, and he had no intention of straying from his vows. “I expect the same.”

“Of course,” she responded evenly, without a flicker of hesitation.

“What else?” he asked when she fell silent.

This time she hesitated, as if she didn’t know whether she wanted to reveal her next demand. “No lying. I detest falsehoods. I’d rather be displeased by the truth than comforted by a lie.”

He’d anticipated that she would expect honesty and chose to ignore the fact that, between the two of them, she was the one who seemed prone to lying. “I can agree to that also. It seems prudent to expect honesty in a marriage, but once again, I’ll expect the same in return.”

“If I ask it of you, you can assume I will also provide it.” She crossed her arms over her chest with the air of a woman who’d fought for herself and gotten exactly what she wanted.

“That’s all?” He had expected a list as long as his arm, not two relatively ordinary expectations.

“Honesty and fidelity are all that I require from my spouse.”

He didn’t know what to make of that, though it was curious that she didn’t mention love or affection or feelings of any sort. If love was not a requirement, was it a potential benefit? Or would she attempt to avoid it altogether?

What had Basil done that caused her to build such walls around her heart?

“Will you tell me why you won’t marry Basil now?”

Her jaw tightened. “No.”

“Whyever not?”

“Because it is irrelevant. Once we are married, Basil will have no place in my life. He will be nothing but a distant memory, and I will make every effort to forget him.”

“It might be helpful if?—”

“No.”

If he wanted her secrets, he’d have to be patient. Whatever had happened between her and Basil had obviously hurt her, and while he wanted to know, he was smart enough to stop pushing. He could only hope she’d tell him when she was ready.

“There is one other thing.” She hesitated again. “My father’s work. Basil has taken charge since my father died.” She chewed on her lip. “Someone will have to take over once he is gone.”

Edward nodded. “I am prepared to assume whatever responsibilities Basil currently performs.” He knew nothing about what Basil did, but the challenge of learning something new was undeniably welcome. He was an intelligent man, and he was convinced he could learn what he needed to know.

She looked away and trailed her finger along the spines of the books next to them. “The thing is, I don’t know precisely what Basil does. He is often working, but I never used to pay attention to what he was doing. Once I realized I could not marry him, I attempted to discover more, but he was not amendable to my questions, so I’m afraid I’ll be of little help.”

She sighed and dropped her hand onto the shelf.

He reached out and rested his on top of hers, squeezing lightly in an attempt to comfort her. “I will figure it out. I’m not particularly experienced with commerce, but Sebastian is well versed in all matters of business. If there is something I do not know, I will consult him. You don’t need to fret. Whatever Basil’s role is, I’m confident I can replicate it.” Just because he didn’t have much experience didn’t mean he was incapable. He would be whatever she needed him to be.

“I’m sorry I left so abruptly and without leaving word of our destination,” she murmured, completely changing the subject and catching him off guard. He had not expected any sort of apology from her. “It was not well done of me.”

“You have nothing to apologize for. You didn’t owe me anything, although I was shocked to find you gone,” he admitted. “I thought…well…you seemed to be softening toward me, and we were…”

She pulled her hand away and tucked it into the folds of her skirts.

“It’s embarrassing to admit, but I was overwhelmed. Our interlude outdoors surprised me. I should…um…warn you that you shouldn’t mistake my appreciation for kissing with a deepening of emotions. I very much enjoyed our kiss, and I look forward to doing it again, but it would be foolish if I allowed that to sway my decision-making or my feelings. I’m not marrying you because I liked kissing you.”

Providing answers to questions he hadn’t asked but had certainly considered deflated the optimism that had been steadily increasing during their conversation.

At the same time, he couldn’t help noticing that her body language told a different story than her words. Her eyes were unfocused as if she were lost in a memory. Perhaps she was remembering their kiss.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips.

Hell. Now he was remembering about their kiss.

He glanced at her sister again. Could he get Isabelle to leave? What would he need to offer? As soon as he asked himself the question, he realized it was futile. Even if he was able to get Isabelle to give them a minute, there was no way he could trust his family to stay away for long. It was a miracle Belinda hadn’t followed them in the first place.

The rain pounding against the window made it impossible for him to suggest they take a walk to get out of the house. Since there was nowhere they could steal a moment of privacy, he assured her in a quiet voice, “When I kiss you next, I’ll try not to make any assumptions about your emotional state.”

And then to himself, he made a silent vow. I will prove to you that you can trust me first.