Lord Bachelor

by Tammy L. Bailey

  “That’s not funny.”

  Edmund cleared his throat and Abby pushed the button to open the door downstairs. In a matter of moments, it sounded like an army ascending her staircase. She had a few seconds to slip on Edmund’s shirt before Will, Joe, Holly, and her son rounded the corner into her small space.

  “Ah ha! You thought you could escape, but you can’t, Edmund,” Will said, unaware of the conversation she’d had with Edmund a few minutes before. She supposed Edmund read her thoughts and sliced a resolute gaze in her direction.

  “Zella called and said you abandoned her at the resort to be with Abby. May I remind you, why you’re doing this in the first place?”

  Abby thought she saw Edmund grow two more inches taller. “No, you may not remind me.” Edmund shifted closer, the two men staring at each other like two boxers about to pound the hell out of each other.

  “Edmund?” Abby whispered. He didn’t hear her and neither did Will.

  “I don’t care. I really don’t,” Will said, his eyes drooping with mental exhaustion. “We just need to get a video shoot before the last taping this morning.”

  The man’s gaze swept over both of them before settling straight on Edmund. “You might want to grab a few more clothes, though.”

  Abby stood back, watching Edmund plow a frustrated hand through his hair. She noticed how he avoided glancing at her, his features so severe, she had to look away. After a few silent moments, she heard him call her name. She twisted toward him. His stormy eyes had softened, but his jaw remained locked, the muscle jumping with every heartbeat. “I’m so sorry.”

  Before she could ask him what for, Will started shouting commands.

  “Joe, get a good panorama of the room and then set up next to the tub. And Holly,” Will said, then hesitated, his head turning to the young child who stood, blinking with his thumb in his mouth and a blanket tucked between his small palm and other four fingers. The other hand held his book, well-worn and faded, the spine rubbed white and the corners bent.

  “And what the hell is he still doing here?”

  Holly lifted the boy into her arms. “My babysitter’s sick, Will, so if you want to fire me, fire me, but I have something to say first. You are the biggest ass I’ve ever met. You snap your fingers and scream orders and expect everyone to do what you want them to do.”

  She paused to shift Sam to her other hip. “And the only reason I’ve stayed this long is because I thought Edmund might punch you hard enough to make the hell you’ve put me through worth it!”

  Everyone remained quiet until Sam touched his mother’s face with his hand and said, “You told me ass is a bad word, mama.”

  “Yes, honey, and you only say it to people who are very, very bad.” She then placed her son down on the floor and took his hand, hauling him back toward the stairs.

  “Hols…Holly, wait,” Will called, the woman stopping short of descending the first step.

  Edmund came to take Sam from his mother, settling him in his lap on one of the chairs in the kitchen. The boy didn’t say anything, but lifted the book up to Edmund. Like before, Sam snuggled against Edmund’s chest, his blanket held tight in his arms and a thumb secure in his mouth. This time, the boy fell asleep.

  Moments later, Holly returned with Will, Edmund standing to transfer Sam into his mother’s arms.

  “He’ll probably remember you reading to him the rest of his life,” Abby whispered close to Edmund.

  He nodded. “I was about Sam’s age when my father started to read to me. He would say, ‘Go get a book, my boy,’ and I’d bring back Charles Dickens and he’d read to me for an hour, sometimes more.”

  Abby listened, afraid to move.

  “I’d sit on his lap,” Edmund continued, his voice low and reflective, “dreading the moment when he’d shut the pages.” Edmund paused to clear his throat. “Looking back, I should have relished the moments he had them open. God, I’ve been so angry with him about what he didn’t do, I’ve disregarded all the things he did do.”

  Abby placed her hand inside Edmund’s and then brought it to her lips. “I love you,” she said, giving him her heart.

  The scene with him took forty-five minutes, thankfully without any directions from Will. She laid upon her bed, her head on Edmund’s chest, listening to him talk about anything and everything. For whatever reason, he could make giving the directions on changing a light bulb sound riveting.

  They kissed several more times, his lips warm and possessive, his touch tender and rousing. At last, Will whooped his satisfaction and gave them an order to arrive at the studio in an hour to start taping the live final show. “Just make sure to arrive separate. Think of it as a real wedding where you can’t see the bride before the big moment,” he said, patting Edmund on the shoulder.

  Edmund and the motley crew soon left, leaving Abby to discern his unreadable features. Somehow, she knew, all the questions she’d asked, and he’d avoided answering, would soon come to light.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Abby felt like a jittery bride. She arrived at the studio early to have someone brush on her makeup and pin her hair into a bridal chignon. Then, they adorned her in a flowing frosty-white dress with glittering sequins and a slit all the way up her thigh. She had to admit, with Holly’s help, the crew made her look more glamorous than she’d thought possible.

  “He’s going to fall in love with you, if he hasn’t already,” Holly whispered, the bags under her eyes darker than the day before.

  Abby wanted to believe what Holly said was true, but a nagging apprehension tugged her off the road to blissful thoughts.

  With only about three minutes to spare before the live taping, and the audience the biggest Abby had ever seen, she made her way to the raised circular stage that would hold Lord Bachelor’s remaining contestants.

  Behind her, Courtney’s voice projected around the corner. So averse to hearing her speak of her and Edmund’s supposed nakedness, Abby scooted in the opposite direction and down the hallway she’d seen Will use as an escape route on many occasions. She’d only gone halfway down when she heard his voice through one of the thin veneer-paneled doors.

  “Do I need to remind you, Edmund, this show was supposed to hook you up with a rich bride, one with enough money to save you from a lifetime of poverty? If what you say about your father’s will is true, then Abby is too poor for either you or the audience to choose. She might be your ‘love match’, but she can’t possibly be the person who can give you what you want.”

  Abby’s world dropped from underneath her. She waited in silent agony for Edmund to say something, to declare his love for her, no matter what. Only the longer she waited, the more her legs trembled. She wanted to move, but she couldn’t. For support, she clung to her mother’s necklace and then closed her eyes, unable to bear the weight of Will’s words.

  Was this why Edmund didn’t want her on the show? Why he’d spent so much time trying to keep her away? Now, all his warnings blared like a fire siren in her head.

  As her mind became numb and her vision blurry, she tried to remember how many times he’d spoken of his privileged life. How many times he’d referenced a desolate consequence if he had to live without it?

  At last, her knees bent, allowing her to step further away. She’d managed to go five feet before the squeak of the door knob sounded behind her. She didn’t want to see him, not with warm tears streaming down her face. She tried to swipe at them, but they just kept coming, faster than she could blink them away. It seemed she’d waited for Edmund all her life. She’d resisted at first, too afraid to let her heart trust, love, and soar again. It proved to be a horrible mistake. So did lingering in the hallway when she heard a voice call to her.

  “Abby, wait!”

  Her heart slammed against her ribcage, Edmund’s deep and insistent tone stealing a much-needed breath. It also stopped the buzzing conversations in front of her. Out of her peripheral vision, she saw Joe lift the camera slowly to his shoulders a
nd begin filming.

  With her body trembling, she brought her hand up to her mouth to keep a sob from giving away her disastrous emotional state.

  “Turn around, Abby,” Edmund said, his authoritative command making her jump where she stood. She shook her head and dared a step forward when his body hastened to stand in front of her. She made the mistake of glancing up, his features carved into a mask of severe hardness. His fierce and haunted gaze bore through her.

  “Get out of my way, Edmund,” she managed to say, her throat tight and thick.

  ****

  All the blood drained from Edmund’s body, as he realized Abby had overheard his and Will’s conversation. He inhaled, his heart squeezing so tight he thought it might burst inside his body.

  “What did you hear?”

  She shrugged in her breathtaking white dress. “Does it matter?”

  He reached out his hand to touch her and she flinched, the subtle movement tearing him up inside. A heartbeat later, Will took that moment to show himself. “You have one minute, and we go live.”

  Edmund ignored him. ‘Abby, we need to talk.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Her voice was so quiet, so full of heartbreak. God, he hated himself at this moment.

  “I don’t know.” He had things come to him with such ease and such little effort, he never thought of the consequences of his actions. When he had nothing else to add, she pulled her shoulders back and tilted her chin higher.

  “We have a show to finish, Lord Rushwood,” she said, steady and low.

  Although her face was puffy and blotched red from an ungodly amount of crying, she was still the most exquisite creature he’d ever seen. Cautious and steady, he made a move toward her and she stepped back.

  “Damn it, Abby!” he cursed, frustrated.

  She was quick to fire back. “You’re angry with me?”

  “I’m trying to explain.”

  “Explain what, that I should have listened to you and never stayed on the show?”

  He drew a hand down his face. He felt like he was drowning. When he moved forward, she stepped back again, her legs ready to bolt. They had danced to this song for too long. It had to end. Here.

  “A few months ago, I was given a choice. I had to marry a woman of equal birth and rank, or lose my title and my inheritance.”

  “So you escaped to America?”

  He closed his eyes for a brief moment. “I had come for holiday, to think. Then, after explaining everything to Will, I allowed him to bail me out.”

  “Mistake number one,” Abby chided quietly, before letting go a tearful hiccup.

  “Yes,” Edmund agreed. “As well, since I couldn’t imagine losing what I’d grown so used to having, I agreed to come on Love Match and let an audience full of strangers pick a wife for me. It seemed like the safe thing to do. I didn’t need to love the woman to save myself.”

  To say this aloud sounded cold and inhumane. He dared a step closer.

  “I attempted to stop you from being a contestant on the show. It’s also why I tried so hard to stay away from you.”

  Her chin lifted at a haughty angle. “You should have tried harder.” She then paused before thrusting her fists toward the floor. “And this isn’t my fault!”

  He tried to go to her again. Her blue eyes grew large, and her arms rose to stop him. He brought in a careful breath. “No, it isn’t, and whatever you believe at this moment, I have no regrets for what has happened between us.”

  She snorted. “Of course you don’t.” She started to say something else, but he already had his arm around her, his mouth slanting down over hers. She lifted her hands to push him away, but he was much more determined to have her than she was to deny him.

  “Edmund,” she said, breathless.

  He continued to draw her in, using the gentle pressure of his lips and the slow dance of his tongue to coerce a surrender. The warmth and sweetness of her skin was an aphrodisiac he never wanted to replace. Then he made the mistake of drawing back and glancing down into her face, her blue eyes showing bright, and another flood of tears threatening to spill out at any moment. His heart suffered, constricting in his chest so every breath sounded winded.

  “I’m…I’m not ready to let you go.”

  She was quick to refuse him. “From what you’ve said, I don’t think you have much of a choice.”

  He pulled away. “I’m determined to marry you, Abby.”

  She blinked. “Are you throwing that out as a hypothetical?”

  “What? No. I’m throwing that out as a proposal.”

  She didn’t stop. “Do you expect me to believe this is what you want, Edmund? Is what Will said true? Will you lose everything?”

  He nodded.

  “Oh, God,” she mumbled, pulling away and sinking back against the closest wall. He watched as she stood quiet and still, her gaze downcast to avoid meeting his.

  “I admit, Abby, this will be complicated.”

  She scoffed at him. “Said one heartless aluminum man to another made of straw.”

  He clicked his tongue, comprehending the full extent of her meaning. However, he did have a heart and it beat only for her. And she had a witty and brilliant mind, perfect for him.

  “Take my hand, Abby.”

  She stared at him, unable to give him a gesture or inkling of what she thought.

  “Don’t make me come after it,” he warned her, drawing from her an uneasy smile. When she refused to submit, he closed the distance between them and lifted her hands so they pressed flat against his. “You deserve to live your own dreams, Abby, even if they are simple and uncharted. I won’t stop you or change you. I only want to be there for you, to be beside you with every turn and twist. If we happen to get lost, we can get lost together.”

  She inhaled, her breath shuddering.

  “Edmund, let’s go,” Will yelled at him in a whisper.

  “Fifteen seconds, everyone,” called another voice.

  “Don’t you remember, Edmund, what you told me if you were to lose everything?”

  He stood blinking, afraid to recall what he’d told her before she turned his world upside down.

  “You said that you’d die a frightful death in the fetal position.”

  Those words sounded so foreign to him, as if he wasn’t the man who’d said them. He didn’t know what to say, so he chose to say nothing. When she scooted past him, the weight of both their futures pressed down hard upon his shoulders.

  ****

  As a man pointed to the set, Will jumped into his role as host of Love Match. The audience—grown threefold since their first taping—clapped with whistled overtures. Edmund stood, his mood dark, waiting for them to show his embarrassing honeymoons and for Will to ask the audience whom they wished to eliminate first.

  Not surprising, they chose Sierra, who took the news with gracious understanding. He gave her a bouquet of flowers and wished her luck on her endeavors. She smiled and lifted to give him a kiss on his cheek, whispering how much she thought he and Abby made a beautiful couple. They promised to stay in touch and he watched her leave, stopping to shake Abby’s hand and, most likely, give her the same message.

  Now only three remained.

  Since Edmund didn’t want to take the chance of the audience eliminating Abby, he chose to do this one himself. On purpose, he stopped before Courtney and handed her the second set of flowers.

  “You should never have bragged about something that never took place,” he said to her.

  She shrugged. “It was fun while it lasted, I guess.”

  His head tilted. “Was it?”

  She started to say something, but clamped her mouth shut. When Holly came to escort her off the set, she departed without incident.

  Then there stood two.

  He hoped by keeping Zella, a woman who’d ranked low on favorability since Friday, that the audience would have enough logic to choose Abby over her, despite Will’s warning.

  As was scripted, he pla
ced himself between Abby and Zella and turned toward the audience. He wanted so much to reach out and take Abby’s hand, to tell her everything would be all right, that they’d take care of each other, through good and bad times, living the proverbial happily ever after.

  Then, a commotion off stage caught everyone’s attention. Edmund squinted through darkness to find Sir Richard making his way to the set, a pair of security guards stumbling behind hm.

  “Bollocks,” Edmund mumbled, believing his and Abby’s worlds were about to splinter into a thousand tiny pieces.

  The man managed to step onto the stage, the guards held back by the show’s producer, who saw an opportunity for an irrationally charged reality show-like ending. Edmund grasped Abby’s hand and slid in front of her, hoping to shield her from the man’s despicable wrath. With Edmund’s muscles drawn so taut across his shoulders and back they threatened to snap, he swore he’d protect Abby with his life.

  “Are we on the air?” Richard said, turning to Will first.

  “Do you want to be?”

  “Of course not! Turn the bloody cameras off.”

  Will gave the ‘kill’ sign before sending the cameraman a thumbs-up as soon as Richard turned his back.

  Although Edmund had hoped for the best, he realized, upon seeing Sir Richard’s blotched and furious face, he’d vastly underestimated the hands of fate.

  “What have you done, Edmund?” the man asked through clenched, crooked teeth.

  “I took you up on your advice.”

  The man’s gaze shifted from one corner of the studio to the other. “You…you were supposed to find a bride!” the man sputtered.

  Edmund smiled. “I have.”

  Sir Richard inhaled, the simple gesture pulling some of the redness out of his face. “You are very fortunate, Edmund, that I found out about this when I did, although it has not stopped you from making a total mockery out of me.”

  Edmund raised his chin. “I’m quite sure that has not been all my doing.”

  Instead of answering Edmund’s remark with another degrading one, the man nodded. “Your mother is near a nervous breakdown, Edmund. Does that make you happy?”