Always the Wallflower (Never the Bride Book 5)

by Emily E K Murdoch

She did not need anyone anymore. This was what happened when you allowed yourself to care, to feel, to be open and vulnerable with someone else.

  She should have stayed a wallflower. If only her cousin Monty had listened all those weeks ago and refused to introduce her to Edward. How many tears would that have prevented?

  “I think you have done enough damage to my reputation, Viscount Wynn,” she said coldly. “I think it best if we do not see each other again. Thank you.”

  Her last words were for the footman, who opened the door and helped her swiftly into the carriage.

  “But—I want to see you again.”

  Edward’s voice sounded frantic, and Letitia forced her heart to harden. He was not the gentleman she thought. He was not the man who was going to change her life—or perhaps, after all, he was.

  But not for the better.

  “Well, I do not,” she said curtly. “Drive on.”

  The carriage lurched into motion, and she turned away from the window.

  Then, and only then did she give in to the instinct which had sparked when she had heard him speak with Miss Lymington and allowed herself to curl into a ball on the carriage seat and cry.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Letitia dropped the book she’d been half-reading into her lap, rubbing her eyes with one hand. Surely A New Mathematical and Philosophical Dictionary could not be this dull for the entirety of its…

  She flicked through to the last page and sighed. Three hundred and ninety-four pages. Why had she allowed Mariah to recommend this book?

  Because Mariah had nagged and nagged until Letitia had given in and accepted it as her next read.

  Was there a bluestocking like Mariah? She had even been talking recently of university education for women, which to Letitia sounded ridiculous.

  The weighty tome was heavy in her lap but was nothing compared to the endless weight in her heart.

  Edward.

  Despite the pain every memory brought her, she could not help herself.

  “Anything that I can get you, my lady?”

  She had not noticed Bentliff enter the room.

  The butler looked anxious. “I do apologize, my lady, I did not mean to startle you.”

  Letitia smiled. “Please do not worry about it, Bentliff, I was lost in…in my thoughts.”

  The butler glanced at the book. “Another one of Miss Wynn’s gifts, I see.”

  She nodded. “I am afraid so. You are more than welcome to it when I am finished.”

  Bentliff grinned and bowed his head. “You are too kind, my lady. And did you have an enjoyable time at the Axwick ball?”

  Her smile disappeared. She would have to harden herself to questions like this. Her parents would undoubtedly have similar inquiries, and if she were going to endure supper with them this evening, she would need to find grit within herself.

  “I…I shared some kind words with the Duchess of Axwick,” she managed to say. “She was most gracious to me.”

  The butler nodded approvingly. “I have heard many good things about Her Grace. I am glad you experienced a pleasant evening, my lady. Now unless there is anything else, there is a great deal of silver that needs polishing. If you need me, ring the bell.”

  Letitia leaned back on the sofa. Had she been too foolish? After so many years of guarding her reputation, ensuring she was never left alone with a gentleman, had she opened herself not just to ridicule, but to a broken heart.

  In this very room, she had allowed herself to be vulnerable, to lose her innocence with a man that she barely knew, and now was surprised he did not want to marry her.

  Of course, he did not! Edward had no heart, no interest in whether she was happy. He had taken what he wanted and disappeared.

  Letitia tried not to think about the way he had touched her, about the sensation of his arms around her, the way his chest had been so warm…

  It had been exciting when Edward had been courting her, almost thrilling. It happened to other women, that glorious song and dance between a lady and a gentleman.

  She had watched from afar and never been a part of it.

  But he had been different, and had not just courted her, he had sought her, raced after her—and as soon as he had got what he wanted…

  The inevitable happened, and she had been silly not to expect it. His interest had disappeared, and he had moved onto the next conquest.

  Right in front of her eyes.

  “Then I will have to dedicate a serious amount of time to your study. And I will have to punish you if necessary.”

  This was not helping. She had intended today to be a time of new beginnings. She had intended to improve her mind.

  Instead, she was sitting in the drawing room, rain lashing at the windows in the fading light of the day, feeling miserable.

  “Do not be a fool,” she whispered to herself. “That is what he wants.”

  Picking up the book from her lap, she opened it up and attempted to continue.

  New principles and new subjects of investigation will not be expected in a work, the professed object of which is to detail the discoveries and improvements of preceding writers.

  Letitia sighed and closed the book on her finger. Not a single word was sinking in. All she wanted to do was go to sleep and forget anything had happened. At least when asleep, she could pretend they were still in love.

  But he had not been in love with her, had he?

  She needed to forget she had fallen in love, forget he had betrayed her, and forget that now, all the rumormongers would be wondering exactly what had happened between them.

  Letitia felt heat pour into her cheeks as she thought back to the curious faces watching as she had fought away from Edward—who, in turn, had attracted even more attention by shouting after her.

  She could hardly have chosen a more public way to be so evidently connected to him. No one would be under the impression she and Edward—Viscount Wynn, she must now think of him by his proper title—were not intimately connected.

  Whatever the gossips of London imagined, it could not be far from the truth.

  Letitia closed her eyes in horror at what people must now think of her. She had not been wrong when she had flung those words at Ed—at the viscount the evening before. Her reputation was ruined, and it was only a matter of time before her parents found out.

  Her parents were in society as much, if not more than she was. It would not take long for someone with a sympathetic heart to inform her mother about her activities—or someone with a bitter tongue who wanted to bring down the haughty Lord Cavendish a peg or two.

  She opened her eyes. She knew what people thought of her parents; she was not immune to gossip herself. But whatever people may think, however stern her father was in public, she knew he was ultimately far more interested in her happiness than many fathers.

  But once her father knew—or guessed—what had happened, would he try and make Viscount Wynn marry her?

  A flicker of hope sparked in her heart, but it died quickly. She did not want to marry a man forced into it. She had seen a few marriages start that way, but it was never a recipe for comfort and trust.

  No, she wanted more. She wanted to be desired, to be desperately wanted. A gentleman who simply could not live without her.

  Like she could not live without him. She could not even think his name without pain.

  The door slammed open and hit the wall. Letitia jumped, her book falling to the carpet.

  “Miss Mariah Wynn,” announced the footman behind the rush of skirts, looking a little disgruntled she had thrown open the door before he had managed to reach it.

  “Is that any way to treat a book?” Mariah demanded, staring pointedly at the book on the floor. She was carrying a sopping wet umbrella. “Take this.”

  The drenched umbrella was thrust into the chest of the footman, who looked in horror at the damp creeping into his suit. Letitia had to force down a smile. There was no one like Mariah for making an entrance, even if she did no
t intend to.

  But today she did not want to see Mariah. Not when her adoptive brother was already so dominant in her thoughts.

  “Good afternoon, Mariah,” she said weakly. “Thank you, Larkin, that will be all.”

  The footman bowed, ready to escape from the whirlwind of her guest, shutting the door behind him as he left.

  “Well, are you enjoying it?” Mariah demanded as she threw down her reticule and a parcel of books in wax paper onto the floor as she fell into the armchair nearest the fire.

  Letitia blinked. “Enjoying…?”

  “The book!” Mariah frowned. “A New Mathematical and Philosophical Dictionary.”

  “Oh.” Letitia looked down at the book and hurriedly picked it up, sitting up on the sofa. “Yes, it is…very enjoyable.”

  “That is wonderful,” she said eagerly. “I thought as soon as I finished it, you would greatly enjoy it. Tell me, which has been your favorite part so far?”

  Letitia sighed and tried to keep the look of genuine interest in the world’s most boring book on her face. She should have known better than to lie to Mariah, who would undoubtedly want to talk about every single page.

  She swallowed. “Well, ’tis the bit…the bit where…”

  Mariah sighed, and Letitia’s eyes rose from the book to her friend, who looked disappointed. “You have not read it, have you?”

  She smiled shyly. “I have managed to get halfway through chapter one, which I personally think is a great achievement, considering the fact that I told you at the beginning, Mariah, that I did not want to read it.”

  It was unlike her to be so direct, even with Mariah, and she could tell her friend was genuinely hurt by her words.

  “I would not have recommended it to you if I did not think you would enjoy it. Why have you not given it another attempt? You may find that if you tried a little more, you would succeed.”

  Had she not tried enough? Had she not forced herself through shyness for years in company, forced into society, tried not to care when no one ever asked her to dance, tried to attract a gentleman without being too forward, or too wild?

  “I have tried,” she burst out, the floodgates of her tears suddenly unable to withhold the pressure of her emotions. “I have tried, and I cannot do it!”

  Mariah’s affronted look disappeared. “Letitia, what on earth is the matter? It is a book, and while it is one I greatly enjoy, it is not a matter of life or death!”

  Letitia allowed the tears to fall. She should have cried yesterday when she had returned home.

  “It…it is not the book,” she managed to choke after a few minutes. “I…I had an argument with your brother last night.”

  “Adoptive brother,” Mariah said automatically. “With Edward? Goodness, I do not know why you even bother talking to him. What on earth did you argue about?”

  Letitia fell silent. How could she even begin to explain her interactions with Edward?

  She barely understood them herself. There was something about him that made her feel on fire, at times with desire, at other times with anger.

  “Do not tell me,” said Mariah, rolling her eyes and leaning back in her chair. “Has he roped you into one of his schemes to ruin another young lady’s character, is that it?”

  Letitia swallowed. It had been a mistake talking with Mariah. She should have pled a headache and retreated upstairs.

  “Do not let him bother you, Letitia,” Mariah said soothingly. “He always has a hair-brained scheme to attract the attention of one young lady or another, but just ignore him. He always bores of them eventually.”

  Letitia forced down a sob. “Oh, Mariah.”

  Her friend offered her a handkerchief. “Let it all out.”

  It was the permission Letitia needed. She allowed the sorrow and the fury, the pain and the memories of pleasure to rush through her. Tears streamed down her face, and she raised her hands to her eyes as though that would stem the flow, but now there was no stopping until every tear had been shed.

  Letitia could not tell how long it was before her sobs subsided, but when she looked up, Mariah was still seated opposite her, now with a far more sympathetic look on her face.

  “I-I thought I had an…understanding with….with your brother,” said Letitia hesitantly. “Adoptive brother,” she corrected. “I went to the Duke of Axwick’s ball last night and saw him flirt most outrageously with…with Miss Lymington. I spoke with Edward about it and…”

  It was painful to even think about, but to say it aloud was to make it real.

  “He told me that he had never cared for me,” Letitia managed. “That he did…did not love me.”

  Mariah sighed heavily, dug around in her reticule for something, and handed something white over to her. “Here, I always carry a spare handkerchief, you never know when you will need one.”

  She took it gratefully and wiped the wetness from her cheeks. If only she could wipe away the pain so easily.

  “Well,” sighed Mariah, finally. “I always knew my adoptive brother would be bad news for you, but I did not think you were going to be such an idiot about it all.”

  “Mariah, you have—you have no idea what you are talking about!”

  “Edward may be a fool,” Mariah said matter-of-factly, as though explaining how acorns grew into oaks, “but he is a fool with an ego. That man, and I do not call him a gentleman, has spent the last ten years of his life wooing beautiful women—’tis a reflex, he hardly notices he’s doing it now.”

  Mariah had never spoken in this much detail about her adoptive brother, had never shared the circumstances of her adoption by Lord and Lady Wynn before. Where had she come from? Why did she have such a terrible relationship with the only member of her family she had left?

  This was not the time to ask those questions.

  “Then why did he seduce me?”

  Mariah raised an eyebrow. “Did he now?”

  “You know what I mean,” Letitia said hastily, instantly regretting her moment of honesty. “You know what…what he is like.”

  “Yes, I do,” Mariah said shrewdly. “And this may come as a surprise to you, Letitia, as I think it will, but you are beautiful. No, do not give me all of that guff, you may not like being looked at, but it does not take long to realize you are worth looking at.”

  Mariah always was so blunt.

  “You caught his notice. You were not like all these other women who were clearly out to land him as a husband,” said Mariah. “You were yourself, and you attempted to push him away when he first made his overtures. I honestly think he fell in love with you because of that.”

  It took a few seconds for Mariah’s words to sink in.

  “You—you think he is in love with me?”

  Mariah smiled. “He is mooning about like you, but in his own drawing room. I have just come from there and in this blasted rain, too.”

  Letitia’s mouth fell open. It could not be true. That simply did not make any sense. Edward had told her that he did not love her.

  But was that what he said?

  “But Letitia…Letty, my darling, we were never engaged.”

  Mariah was not one to exaggerate, for she always told the absolute truth.

  “Do…do you think I should go to him?”

  Mariah shrugged. “Whatever you decide is your business, and whatever he decides to do—or not to do—is his own. I cannot be expected to run about town for the two of you. I have already done more than I wished, but he wanted to know you were well, and so here I am.”

  He wanted to know if she was well—what did that mean?

  “Now, do not obsess over every word I speak,” Mariah warned. “I know you too well, Letitia. If you want to see him, see him. If you do not, stay here. I am going to stay here while the rain pours. I will read A New Mathematical and Philosophical Dictionary if you will not.”

  Without another word, Mariah pulled the book out of Letitia’s hands and opened it to the beginning, pulling her spectacles out of her re
ticule and placing them on her nose.

  There was silence.

  Letitia almost laughed aloud; it was so ridiculous. Her mind was so full of thoughts and emotions, none of which she could reconcile.

  But she had no reason to distrust Mariah’s words. She had been raised with him, after all. There was probably no one who knew Edward better.

  “You do not seem particularly concerned about…about it all,” Letitia said quietly.

  Mariah looked up from her book. “About what?”

  Letitia smiled. There was only one Mariah. “For one of my closest friends, you do not seem particularly concerned.”

  “Oh, I am concerned,” Mariah said. “I am concerned about the right for women to vote, work, and attend university. Honestly, Letitia, if you and my dear brother cannot sort this out between you, I do not think you would have much of a shot at a happy marriage, do you?”

  She disappeared into her book again, and Letitia smiled. She could not deny Mariah’s words, but there was no ignoring the fact that if Edward truly loved her, would it not be him in the armchair opposite her, attempting to fix the confusion between them, not Mariah?

  Chapter Seventeen

  This was madness. Edward had never hidden from a fight before, never avoided a lady who wished to see him, never fled from a difficult conversation.

  Even some he wished in hindsight that he had. Breakfast with Mr. Pickering after being found in his daughter’s bedchamber was still a painful memory.

  He should be with Letitia, on bended knee, begging her to forgive him.

  The mess he had made could not be fixed immediately, but it would be an ache in his soul until he did something about it.

  But after a restless night, Edward had risen early and stomped up and down the streets of London.

  Purposeless, rudderless, he walked along every street save where he wanted to go—Cavendish Square.

  He had to do something and was too much of a coward. Despite the pain in his heart, he could not lower himself and do the one thing certain to fix that pain, talk to Lady Letitia Cavendish, the shy and quiet woman who had utterly possessed his heart since he had first been introduced to her.