by Jade Lee
They stayed curled about one another for a very long time. The first he stirred was to press kisses to her forehead. The first she moved was to burrow tighter into his side. He chuckled, the sound rumbling from his body into hers. She sighed and made a sound as close to a purr as a human could make.
But in time, he shifted. "The doctor said you should have a hot bath with oil."
"Can't I just lie here forever?"
"I have to get you home. How did you get here anyway?"
She pressed her nose hard against his chest, mostly to hide from the scolding she knew she would get. "I told my chaperone that I was going home with Debra. That tomorrow was her wedding and she wanted me to be with her."
"And you found a cab?"
"Yes."
"You cannot keep doing that. It's dangerous."
"I know," she quipped. "I might get ruined."
He sighed, but there was laughter in the sound. "I will get you some water and a cloth. Do you need anything else?"
She shook her head and pulled away from him because he was right. She did want a cloth. She watched him shift out of bed and take a moment to manage himself. Then he went to the basin and cursed at the empty pitcher.
"I need more water. Wait here a moment. I will fetch it right away."
She smiled. "I hardly think I'm going anywhere."
He pressed a quick kiss to her lips before hastily grabbing his clothes. Then he picked up the pitcher and ducked out, presumably to the kitchen and fresh water.
But Gwen had never been one for waiting on anything. There was a cloth to use, even without water and soon she was donning her clothes. She was in the process of trying to button her gown when she chanced to look at his desk. She didn't intentionally read what was written there so much as see what was before her. But then the meaning slipped into her brain.
It was a list of stratagems regarding her. Ways to isolate her without chaperonage. She smiled as she saw how neatly he itemized his plans and she picked up the pages to read them more closely.
But there were a lot of pages. More than a dozen, each older than the first, going back to...
She straightened, her mind reeling from what she saw. His pages went back to the very first moment they had met. Or that she remembered meeting him. Right there before her was a deliberate plan to spill lemonade on her. And it was only one out of four possible scenarios! He'd apparently discarded falling into her during a dance. He labeled that as too risky of looking like a boob. Which was certainly true.
Another choice had been to find some way to manipulate her friends or chaperones. But that was labeled too difficult simply from the list of her possible companions and chaperones. The number was surprising, even to her.
In the end, he'd obviously selected "punch spill" and had worked out the timing for optimum privacy in the ladies retiring room. And he'd even made a note that he had to think of a good lie as to why he had a change of gown for Debra.
It had all been a plan. From the very beginning, their courtship had been a deliberately executed plan. The thought was horrifying. And he was such a good liar that she'd never suspected a thing!
All of a sudden, everything she thought she knew, everything they'd done came into question. Was it true? Was it a lie? And now she was ruined!
What had she done?
She heard him coming up the stairs. His tread was steady and measured, just what she would expect. She might have taken it for a sign of dependability, but now she wondered if it a sign of carefully construction deception. She was being ridiculous, but she couldn't fight the panic. She didn't know what to think, so she did the only thing she could.
She hastily folded up the pages in her hands and stuffed them into her reticule. It made the thing bulge ridiculously large, but it was her only choice. Then she whirled around as he pushed open the door.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to take so long..." he said as saw that she was nearly dressed. "Gwen?"
"I'm fine, Edward. I didn't really need the water at all. I am not so missish like other girls. So I thought I'd just, you know, use the cloth and so I did. Really simple. But my dress buttons in the back and I was struggling with it. Very awkward not to have hands that twist that way. Haha. Funny thought that." She was babbling, her voice too high and her hands much too clumsy.
He obviously knew something was wrong because he set the pitcher aside and came straight for her. She flinched slightly as he set his hands on her shoulders. But when he did nothing more than rest his hands there, she slowly calmed.
Odd how he could still comfort her without even saying a word even when she was busy questioning everything. She bit her lip to hold back more nervous words. And in time, she was able to straighten to her full height—which barely topped his shoulders—and breathe easily once again.
"I'm being silly," she told herself, thinking about his elaborate stratagems.
"You have taken a bold step and that can be frightening." He was talking about what they'd done and she glanced guiltily at the bed.
"Was it this way for you the first time?" She wasn't even sure what she was asking. Was it always so wonderful between lovers? If so, no wonder her father spent his life whoring. Or had this been different? And how much of it was just the physical joy? And how much a lie?
He snorted. "The first time I was so drunk, I can barely remember what happened. I was seventeen and on holiday from school. My friends pooled their money and sent me to a brothel."
She frowned as she looked into his face. Truth? Or lie? It certainly sounded like the truth. "And the other times?"
He shook his head. "There haven't been that many, Gwen."
She grimaced at him. That's not what she was asking. And truthfully, she had no interest in knowing exactly how many other women he had done this with. At this point, she didn't know if she'd believe what he said in any event.
He pressed a kiss to her forehead and slowly enfolded her in his arms. She wanted to resist, but his touch was seductive. In the end, she hugged him as tightly as he held her. She wanted to feel his strength even if it was a lie.
"I have only done this a few times, Gwen, which hardly makes me an expert. I can tell you that it always feels good, but that this was..." His voice softened and his arms tightened around her. "It was beyond anything I've ever felt before. It was love, Gwen, and that made this incredible."
Was he just saying that to convince her? Were the words true? Or just another elaborate plan?
He drew back to look at her face. She did her best to school her features, but she wasn't very good at hiding what she felt. Her doubts must have shown on her face because he sighed.
"It is a lot to think about, I suppose. It's only natural that you wonder about it. But I swear Gwen, it will only get better between us. I swear it."
He spoke the words like a vow, and she felt her fears recede. They didn't disappear, but they did ease their grip on her mind. So she managed a smile as she stretched up on her toes to kiss him.
She would have deepened it, but he stopped her. "Let me button up your dress," he said as he gently turned her around. "Mrs. Winters is in bed now and there is no one else at home yet. There is a cab waiting outside. That's what took me so long. I saw it when I was downstairs and hailed it. If we go very quickly, I can get you into it before anyone sees."
He was still worried for her reputation. That was both reassuring and infinitely sweet, especially as she had set out to get herself ruined. "I can still climb out the window, you know."
"The devil you will!" he said as he made quick work of her buttons. Then he put her cloak about her, drawing the hood up high so that her face didn't show. A minute later they were out the door and stepping into a carriage.
He rode with her back to her home, and they held hands the whole time. They didn't speak at all. Perhaps he was thinking too, or perhaps he just knew her moods enough to know that she valued the quiet. There was so much to think about.
But just as they were pulling up outside her home, he pulled h
er close.
"I will see you at Debra's wedding, yes?"
"I'm a bridesmaid."
"Oh, yes. Of course you are. I'd forgotten."
She frowned at him, wondering at his odd tone. He seemed nervous somehow. "Edward?"
"Can I see you after the ceremony? We could go to the wedding breakfast together."
She shook her head. "I don't know if there will be time. Robert will be escorting me, and you know he never lets me out of his sight now. He's worse even than Mrs. Gavelstone and she's a harpy."
He laughed at that, but it didn't sound sincere. "But you'll look for me, won't you? You'll try to see me?"
"Of course—"
"Because I have to leave day after tomorrow. I can't wait longer. I have responsibilities that I've neglected."
Her blood froze. He was leaving? In two days? But, of course he was. Hadn't she thought that the very first time he'd spilled punch—on purpose—on her? That he was a country baronet, in town for a moment and then gone. His sort never stayed for long.
"Gwen?"
"Uh, yes. Yes. Of course I'll look for you."
He exhaled in relief, but there wasn't time to say more as the cabbie rapped on the rooftop. It was time for her to go. So she turned and rushed out, flat out running for the servants' door. She always entered there when she came home like this.
She rushed inside only stopping to peer out when she was up in her bedroom with the door shut tight. But she couldn't see anything. Her room faced the back. But she heard the noise of the cab leaving. Only then did she close her eyes and let the enormity of the evening wash over her.
She stayed where she was for a time, then eventually undressed. She readied herself for bed, but she couldn't sleep. She checked on her mother who was sleeping soundly. She built up the coals in her room and pulled a chair up to the heat.
Then, when she could think of no other way to delay, she slowly pulled his notes out of her reticule. She spread them on her lap and studied each one. It was an hour or more later that she let the pieces fall into place in her mind.
He had planned on her seduction. From the very beginning, he had planned it. And she had walked willingly into his arms. She'd climbed into his bedroom too! What a fool she'd been! Because after everything was said and done, there was one, single inescapable fact:
Despite all his talk of honor, he had still not proposed.
Chapter 13
Gwen barely made it to the chapel on time. She'd spent much too much time crying last night and too little time sleeping. Now she felt out of sorts and confused.
Only an idiot would doubt everything that had happened between herself and Edward. She was a fair judge of character, or so she believed. What they had shared felt real. But the doubts would not leave her alone.
Their very first meeting had been a ruse. And he had not proposed. Had she given up everything for a lie? It couldn't be true, and yet the last thing he said to her was that he was leaving London tomorrow. God, she was a fool!
Robert noticed her distraction and bloodshot eyes during the carriage ride to the chapel. He leaned forward, looking every bit a concerned brother, and Gwen could barely contain her roiling emotions at the sight. He was a good brother and a kind man. But if he learned a tenth of what she'd been doing, there was no telling how he would react.
Screaming diatribes were the least of her fears. God forbid he took it into his head to duel with Edward. Or more likely, since both he and Edward were of the more prosaic sort, they would sit down as men and discuss things. She would be locked out of the decisions, and in the end, she would have to suffer through some decree that was completely arbitrary and did nothing to solve any of her problems.
So she simply waved him to silence even before he'd fully opened his mouth. "I cannot discuss things right now, Robert. Please do not ask."
He shut his mouth with a click, but a moment later he touched her hand. "I hope you know that I shall always stand by your side, Gwen. No matter what is bothering you, I will do anything to help."
She looked back at him, startled by his very understanding words. "You have always looked out for me, Robert. I know that."
"Then—"
"But we have also allowed each other our privacy. Unless you wish to discuss what you do in that other house of yours."
He blinked, his eyes widened. "Good God, what do you know of that?"
"Nothing," she said, and sadly it wasn't a lie. She only knew he had this place called The Chandler that he went to whenever he was tired of home. "Unless you wish to explain."
He leaned back and pressed his lips together.
"I thought not," she said. They passed the rest of the drive in silence. It wasn't fair, really. She was the one out of sorts, and he had only been trying help. But this was a problem she wanted to sort through on her own. And truthfully, she couldn't bear the disappointment in her brother's eyes if it turned out she was in the soup for real.
So she said no more to him except to squeeze his hand before she alighted from the carriage. Neither Debra nor Sir Henry Barnes was exalted enough to marry at St James, but this was a lovely chapel often used by the lesser peers. Gwen thought the stained glass windows, dark wood pews, and the thick aisle runner completely charming. Beyond that, she couldn't care less.
Edward was already there. He was dressed formally, as was appropriate for a wedding. He stood immediately upon seeing her walk through the main chapel on the way to the bride's room. He looked so handsome in his dark suit with his hair curling over his ears. He looked anxious and took a step forward, but she wasn't ready to face him. She didn't know what she would do or say, and so she shook her head and all but ran down the aisle.
A moment later she found the bride's room where Debra sat in a lovely gown of primrose silk with tiny rosettes over the bodice. She clutched a bouquet of flowers in one hand while she showed off her wedding slippers to her maid-of-honor Connie.
Gwen hadn't spent much time with Connie as the girl wasn't out yet. But she knew Edward's sister and Debra were best friends. Looking now at the young woman, Gwen saw a female version of Edward with striking cheekbones, a lanky figure, and eyes that tended to pierce right through one.
Gwen stumbled, unprepared to see yet another reminder of Edward. Fortunately she recovered quickly. Not so fortunate, both women noticed anyway.
"Are you all right?" Debra asked. "You look strained."
Gwen pressed her hands to her flushed cheeks. "I hate being late," she said. "And anyway, no one will be looking at me. You are the beautiful bride." She gave her friend a hug, thrilled to see how absolutely radiant the woman was. Not just in looks. Objectively speaking, Debra was rather average, but she practically glowed with joy. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were bright with happiness, and her lips were red and full because she kept biting them in her excitement.
"Thank you for the flowers," she said lifting up her bouquet. "They are beautiful."
Gwen flushed as she looked at the arrangement. They were her gift to the bride, all the bouquets and the greenery throughout the chapel. She had spent a great deal of time on every detail of the arrangements, surprised to find that she loved the work.
"I enjoyed every minute of it," she said, meaning every word. "But looking at you now, I can tell that all the flowers in the world would be wasted. Debra you are glowing. And bouncing!"
Debra was literally hopping in her delight as she executed a full spin to show off her gown. "Mrs. Mortimer did a beautiful job."
"Today, you would look good in anything. Do you love him that much?"
"More!" Debra stopped spinning to grab Gwen's hands. "And I owe it all to you. Thank you! Thank you!"
Gwen pressed a kiss to her friend's cheek. "I only introduced the two of you. Everything else was your doing. And his."
Debra grinned as a blush stained her cheeks. "He is a very good man. And to think if Edward hadn't spilled the lemonade, none of this would have happened."
There it was: the per
fect opening for her question. Gwen rushed on before she could think too deeply. "About that, dearest," she began. "Was that, perhaps, not really an accident?"
Debra's expression shifted into embarrassment. "Has he told you then?" she asked. "I'm so glad. I hated the trick at the time and hated more that it started us out with a lie. But you were always surrounded by gentlemen. We could never get close."
So it was true. And Debra had been part of it. "But why?" she asked, doing her best to hold back the tears. "Why do it at all? You could not have known I would introduce you to your husband."
"No. But we could see that everyone talked to you, that you knew everyone. I could never have met all those men if you hadn't asked them to dance with me."
That was true enough. Debra's shyness overcame her in a ballroom. She never showed well at a grand party. Without Gwen's intervention, she might not have met Sir Henry. Then again, she might have.
"You could have just introduced yourself to me. Am I really such a harridan that you could not?"
"Oh!" Debra pressed a hand to her mouth. "You are angry. I'm so sorry, but we couldn't get close. And it was all Edward's plan anyway. He'd been trying for weeks to get your attention, but you never noticed him."
"That can't be true!"
"But it is!"
And here was the moment when Connie spoke up, stepping to her feet with a dignity Gwen hadn't expected in one her age. "That's what Edward does. He makes plans and lists all the time. He likes to keep things orderly. He's even got lists for what to do in an earthquake. Imagine, an earthquake in England! But if it's important to him, he makes a plan. And if he actually executed his plan, then you must have been very important to him."
Gwen looked at the girl, unnerved again to see eyes identical to Edward's gazing back. Steady, focused, and absolutely honest.
"Oh, listen to me!" Gwen gasped, as she desperately tried to deflect the attention from herself. "This is your wedding day and I am upsetting things."
"No—" Debra began, but Gwen hushed her.
"This is your day. I shall not be the ruin of it. Just... just tell me one more thing."