by Joyce Alec
Edward did not comment much, preferring to stand and listen. He was not able to discuss such things, given that he did not have much of a stable, did not have a single lady interested in him, and certainly did not keep a mistress. Besides, such things would only distract him from his main purpose: to find a suitable bride who would be willing to marry and live with him in his estate, solely to provide the required heir. Edward had no intention of falling in love or having the lady have a good deal of affection for him in return. No, a simple arrangement would do, and thereafter, he and the lady could live entirely separate lives.
“Ah, Lord Turner!”
Edward groaned inwardly, closing his eyes briefly before turning to face the slightly balding gentleman who was approaching him. “Lord Gaines,” he muttered, nodding at him.
“Wonderful to see you again,” Lord Gaines said excitedly. “I cannot interest you in the card table, can I?”
Biting back the furious retort that came to mind, Edward simply shook his head. For whatever reason, Lord Gaines had begun to seek him out at almost every opportunity, in a futile attempt to encourage him to the card room. Even with Edward’s continued refusal, Gaines was yet to give up.
“Pity,” Gaines muttered, tilting his head as though to get a better look at Edward’s injuries. “I had heard you were unbeatable.”
“I was,” Edward replied, wishing he could take the words back almost as soon as he had said them.
“And you do not wish to see if Lady Luck is still on your side?” Gaines asked with a quick grin. “I must confess, I am very keen to challenge you.”
Edward let out a long breath, barely keeping ahold of his anger. “As I have told you previously, Lord Gaines, I no longer gamble.” It brought back too many painful memories, reminding him of the person he had once been, the person he had vowed never to become again.
Gaines slapped him on the shoulder, laughing as if Edward had said something funny. “Well, if I cannot change your mind…?”
“No,” Edward replied tersely. “You cannot. Excuse me.”
Turning his back on the man, Edward wandered through the drawing room, nodding to a few of the guests but not speaking to any. His cravat seemed to tighten, forcing him to draw in slow, shallow breaths in order to keep his composure. He felt as though everyone’s eyes were on him, that all their conversations were about him.
Seeing an open door, he carefully made his way towards it, hearing his host call for the assembled guests to take their seats so that the musical part of the evening could begin. Edward did not turn from his path, slipping out of the open door and away from the hubbub. He was quite sure that those who performed this evening would be quite wonderful, but that held no interest for him. For the moment, he needed to get away from the crowd and have a few moments without anyone watching him.
Walking quietly through the dim corridors, Edward spotted a door slightly ajar and, on pushing it open a little more, discovered the library. With a sigh of relief, he stepped inside and carefully closed the door. He did not want to be disturbed, and he was sure that Lady Patton would not mind his presence here, given her previous kindness to him.
There seemed to be no one else present, but the fire was burning beautifully in the grate and the sight of the great stacks of books calmed him immediately. When he had retired to the country, books had become his solace, his one window into a world he held himself back from. Here, he might pass an hour or so before taking his leave. Here, there would be no gentlemen trying to push him towards the card table, asking him to pick up the pieces of his former life and start them all over again. Edward had promised himself he would never gamble again, afraid that he might again become the arrogant, conceited, selfish cad he had once been.
“Why will Gaines not leave me alone?” he muttered to himself, finding the whiskey decanter and pouring himself a glass.
“Who?” came a voice, making Edward jump in surprise, spilling the liquor all over his jacket sleeve.
“Oh, goodness!” the voice continued, as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbing at the damp material. “Whatever did you do that for?”
A harsh retort came to Edward’s lips, only to die away the moment he saw the very woman he had been searching for walking towards him. Apparently, she had been sitting in a chair facing the fire, as Edward had not noticed her at all.
“I must apologize if I frightened you,” she continued, taking the kerchief from his fingers and pressing it carefully against his jacket sleeve. “I am afraid I was hiding.”
“Hiding?” Edward asked in a slightly strangled voice.
She laughed, the melodious sound bringing joy to Edward’s ears. “Yes, hiding. You do know that there is to be a musical part to this evening’s festivities? My father is sure to push me towards the pianoforte, despite the fact that I am woefully unprepared and, to be frank, something of an amateur at the keys. I did not want to embarrass myself, so I chose to hide.” She looked up at him with a slightly wry smile on her face. “Quite ridiculous, is it not?”
Edward cleared his throat, wishing he could think of what to say but struggling to get his thoughts in a coherent order. This young lady took his breath away simply by her nearness. Her brown tresses were not in any way extraordinary, but it was the lightness of her blue eyes and the warm smile on her lips that made him so deeply aware of her.
“Of course, as I am sure you will remember, I am something of a wallflower anyway, so why my father attempts such a thing is quite beyond me. I have told him so, but he is not one to listen.”
“I am sure you play quite wonderfully,” Edward replied eventually. “I must beg your pardon, miss, but I am not even sure of your name. I must apologize that we have not been properly introduced, but I would like to know who you are.”
“And I should not even be here,” she replied, straightening up and handing him back his now damp kerchief. “This is entirely improper, and the last thing I want is for my father to appear—as he is in the habit of doing—and call scandal.” With a heavy sigh and roll of her eyes, she walked back to her chair, picked up the book she had obviously been reading, and returned it carefully to one of the shelves. “We would not want you to be forced into matrimony now, would we, Lord Turner?” Her smile widened. “At least not to a bluestocking masquerading as a wallflower!”
Edward opened his mouth to give some response—to give any response—only to watch her leave the room, closing the door tightly behind her. He stared at the door for a few minutes, as though his intense gaze might bring her back to him, but instead, there was only silence.
Sighing heavily, Edward dropped his head and groaned. Twice now, he had met the lovely lady, and still, he had not discovered her name. He might ask Lord Johnston, but then the man would think that Edward had designs on the lady.
Sighing heavily, Edward straightened and walked to the chair in which she had been sitting. Seating himself, he caught the faint scent of lavender, sparking his senses. The “Lady Lavender”, whoever she was, had certainly caught his attention. She had never once mentioned his scars and had never shown any inclination to hide herself from his gaze. She seemed kind-hearted, although evidently struggling to find her place in society. Of that, he could well understand, as sympathy rose in his chest.
“We will meet again,” he murmured, sinking into the chair. “And the next time, I shall discover your name. Have no doubt of that.”
3
Unfortunately for Edward, the lady in question appeared to be quite elusive. He did not see sight nor sound of her for the next two weeks, no matter where he went. At the same time, he found himself almost always beset by Lord Gaines, who seemed quite determined to have Edward gamble. It was as though he had become Gaines’s project, for the man kept pressing him to play again—only once—yet always assuring him that he would be soundly beaten should he do so. Gaines was so arrogant, so sure of his ability to win against him, that Edward found himself beginning to be sorely tempted, if only to get the man to lea
ve him alone.
“You absolutely cannot,” Johnston stated, when Edward brought the situation to his attention one evening when they sat in his library. “Gaines will give up eventually, but you made a promise to yourself and to society at large.”
“Yes, I am more than aware that I have promised never to gamble again, but this man pushes me beyond what I can bear!” Edward exclaimed, slamming down his glass of port. “If I play him once, then he will have no reason to hound me any longer.”
“But if you play him the once, then society will hear of it and you will receive countless more invitations,” Johnston pointed out. “Play with Gaines, and you will be forced to play again…and again…and again until your resolve is quite gone.”
Edward stared broodingly into the fire, aware that his friend was quite right. He saw the situation from an entirely different perspective and could see the difficulties Edward would face if he did choose to play with Gaines only the once. His shoulders slumped, as he leaned back in his chair, wondering what it was he was meant to do.
“We have tried to avoid Gaines as much as possible,” Johnston said slowly. “But it appears he is quite determined to force your hand.”
“It is distracting me from my sole purpose,” Edward said heavily. “I was meant to re-enter society so that I might attempt to find a suitable bride, but I have achieved nothing these last few weeks. I have become so caught up in avoiding Gaines that I admit that my mind has struggled to think on anything else. And wherever I go, the ton stares at me as though I were some poor, hapless creature worthy of their pity. It brings to mind the memories of the fire more often than I would like.”
Johnston got up to refill his glass, pouring another measure into Edward’s. “I am aware that the investigation into the fire was of short duration.”
Edward snorted. “Very short. Apparently, the fire came from an oil-drenched rag that was thrown into an open window, but that was all they discovered. There was no evidence of it, of course, as that information came from a street urchin who saw the perpetrator.”
“A reliable source then,” Johnston commented drily.
Edward rolled his eyes. “Very reliable. None of my staff were of any help, given that they all fled the scene. I am not even sure what happened to them all, for not everyone returned to receive their wages and note of recommendation.”
Johnston sat back down, a surprised look on his face. “You did that for them?”
Shifting in his chair, Edward nodded. “I was not the best of masters, Johnston. In truth, I did not do it myself, but instructed my steward to do so. He was—and is—the only faithful member of my staff, I might add.”
“Then I hope you gave him a substantial raise,” Johnston muttered, lifting his glass to his lips.
“I did,” Edward replied, not mentioning that it had taken him more than a year after the fire to realize just how much he owed his steward and to recompense him accordingly.
“Do you ever wish to discover who it was that set the fire in the first place?” Johnston asked carefully, aware that this was something of a delicate subject. “You have never once mentioned it.”
Edward sighed heavily and shook his head. “There were so many gentlemen that I offended, hurt, and often laid waste too. For heaven’s sake, Johnston, I cared nothing for the state they were left in! I heard that one or two gentlemen, in particular, were in a great deal of debt after losing to me, but I did not care. The fire could have been set by anyone. It is not worth my time to search into such things. Perhaps, in a way, I deserved it for what I did.”
Johnston gave a slow nod, his brow furrowing. “You said that you took a great deal of money from some gentlemen that night?”
“I did,” Edward answered, a little ashamed to remember how much of an egotistical creature he had been.
“Who, precisely?”
Edward frowned heavily. “I do not quite remember.”
“Then I think that is what you must do first,” Johnston replied. “Is it not quite likely that one of the men from whom you took such a great fortune might have wished you ill?”
“So that they would not be forced to pay their debts, you mean?” Edward asked thoughtfully. “Whilst I agree that might be a strong motive, I did hold vowels for a great many gentlemen at the time.” He shook his head. “They all went up in flames.”
“Regardless, I still believe that, should you wish it, you would be able to at least consider someone to be the culprit,” Johnston said firmly. “Think hard about who those gentlemen were. Search your memory and write down their names so that you will not forget them. Describe their faces, if you cannot recall their titles. Once we have them, then we can begin a search as to their whereabouts.”
“They are not going to simply confess,” Edward replied with a hint of laughter in his voice. “What are we going to do to elicit the truth from them?”
Johnston shook his head, no laughter in his eyes. “That is not important, Turner. Not now. One step at a time. Think about who you were with and get their names. Then we shall discover where they are now, and from that, plan our next course of action.”
Grateful for his friend’s careful thought, Edward lifted his glass in a toast. “Thank you, Johnston. I am truly appreciative of your efforts to help me. However, for the time being, I intend to concentrate on trying to find a single eligible young lady who does not fix wide, fearful eyes onto me.”
Johnston grinned and accepted the toast. “Come now, do buck up, Turner. Traversing society is getting a little easier, however, is it not? You are not receiving as many stares as you once did.”
“That is true,” Edward admitted, unconsciously running his fingers down over his scars. “But still they talk about me. In truth, I do not think they will ever stop.”
Johnston shrugged. “Maybe not, but in time they will talk about you a little less, I promise you that. At least you now have something of a mysterious reputation, for everyone says how markedly different you are since you have returned.”
Edward sighed, hating that he had been the topic of so many discussions. “If only I realized how cruel of a man I was before this happened,” he replied glumly, as he raised his scarred hand. “Then I might not have this ongoing pain.”
His face twisted with sympathy, Johnston nodded, fully aware of just how painful Edward’s scars could be. Not wishing to discuss how difficult his life had been since the fire, Edward cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter. “This discussion, however, does not tell me what I should do about Gaines. There must be something I can do to stop him from hounding me!” He held up his hand, as Johnston opened his mouth, a gleam in his eye. “I mean, other than playing him, Johnston.”
His friend chuckled and shook his head. “I do not think there is. Could you not agree to meet privately? Swear him to silence somehow?”
The idea held some merit, and Edward found that he did not immediately dismiss it. However, he was concerned that, should he do so, he would then immediately be pulled back into his old vice.
“I can tell that you are worried,” Johnston continued when Edward did not immediately respond. “Are you afraid you will somehow turn back into your old self, as though the fire—and everything you have been through since—did not occur?”
“You know me too well, Johnston,” Edward replied grudgingly. “Yes, I am concerned that the thing I used to love so much will suddenly grip itself around me again. If I win, then I am worried that the arrogance that led me to my fate will return with a vengeance.”
Johnston tipped his head. “You think you will win?”
Edward could not help but snort. “Of course I will. Gaines is an easy man to read. He hides nothing.”
“True,” Johnston agreed, looking thoughtful. “Although that will silence him too, of course. He will not want to tell anyone else about his terrible loss.”
Realizing that he was growing closer to agreeing to Johnston’s plan, Edward pressed his lips together and thought hard. Was he tr
uly going to do the one thing he had promised himself never to do again? Breaking his own vow?
“Despite my concerns, I will admit that I cannot see another way for you to remove Gaines from your presence,” Johnston said quietly. “I can make all the arrangements, Turner. You will have to do nothing other than appear at the table, play, and win.”
Edward frowned. “It will have to be somewhere discreet,” he said slowly. “No servants running their mouths off.”
“I can arrange for you to play here,” Johnston suggested at once. “We can hire a man to deal the cards and ensure the play goes smoothly.”
Grinning, Edward quirked an eyebrow. “You mean, ensure that Gaines does not cheat.”
“Or that you do not,” Johnston replied firmly. “I know you sometimes were involved in such things.”
“Not anymore,” Edward assured him. “And that only occurred when I could not read the man I was playing against.”
Johnston shook his head. “That does not excuse it.”
Hearing the slight note of frustration in his friend’s voice, Edward let out a long breath, realizing that he had been doing just that. He had admitted to previously cheating on occasion, but was, as he had done back then, finding ways to excuse it. Those traits were remnants of the past, a past he did not want to remember.
“You will be quite all right, Turner,” Johnston said, interrupting him. “I understand that you are worried about some things, but as the man who has seen you change significantly over the last few years, I assure you that you will not suddenly snap back into the man you once were.”
A slow sense of relief settled in Edward’s chest, even though he had not been seeking his friend’s reassurance.
“Then, I suppose I shall play Gaines after all,” he muttered quietly. “I believe you are right, Johnston. It is the only way to remove that man from my presence so that I can best concentrate on finding myself a wife!”