He could not—would not—betray Alice’s trust with anyone, not even his brother, who admittedly would not sway a word. Still, he would not reveal anything—it was bad enough seeing how disastrously his last interaction with Alice had gone.
That night had been nothing but the beginning of an end with what should have been a bright new start. He knew what a colossal mistake he had made and felt that having his heart torn from his chest would’ve been less painful than having her break it.
“Good god, you love her,” Benedict breathed. “You arein lovewith her.”
“Out,” Edward ordered him. “Get out.”
“Edward—” Benedict flinched when the glass flew past his left ear and shattered on the wall. “I said,get,out.”
Wordless, Benedict turned on his heel and went through the doorway, slamming it behind him. Slumping into his seat, Edward rubbed his eyes and couldn’t help but feel like a heel himself.
CHAPTER 29
For four days, Alice valiantly avoided Penelope—but she knew her time escaping her sister’s questions was running out. The most helpful thing aiding her audience was when Benedict would come for Penelope, with one of his maids in tow, and sweep her off to another part of London.
She’d passed the time sewing, reading, taking long walks to Hyde Park, and trading letters with Diana; she was crafting another letter to a friend when Penelope marched into the room, the simple bracelet of jade and quartz she had won at the fair dangling from her wrist.
“We need to talk,” she said.
“About what?” Alice tried to play ignorant, but her sister’s eyes narrowed.
“Don’t do that,” Penelope scolded her as she sat. “You are too smart to play the fool. You know what I mean. What happened that night at Duke Valhaven’s home?”
Staring at the line under her pen, Alice asked, “Did Benedict mention something?”
“He said he is sure Edward has feelings for you,” Penelope said, “but I am confused at that because I have never seen the two of you interact beyond the cordial hellos and goodbyes.”
“That… is because we took care to hide it,” Alice sighed, utterly tired of keeping up this façade. “We actually met days before you think we did but I had not known his brother then.”
“How long ago before you met Benedict?”
Setting her pen to the side, Alice admitted, “A week prior. See, before I knew about your condition, I was set on finding Rutledge and making him do the right thing, so I tracked him down to a club he owned on Bond Street….”
The long tale of meeting Edward there and their following meeting—barring all the times they had been intimate, of course; those she kept near to her heart—and how he had helped her to get Rutledge to come around, finally spilled forth.
By the end, Penelope was utterly stunned, and Alice let out a long sigh. “Along the way, I found myself falling for him, but we know—all of Town knows, that he is not in the marriage way.”
A soft, sympathetic smile curved Penelope’s lips. “I’m sorry, Alice.”
“That night…” She braced herself. “That night, he asked me to marry him, and I said no.”
“What?” Penelope’s mouth slipped open. “Why? Wasn’t that what you wanted?”
“Not for the reasons he gave me,” Alice said. “He offered me everything under the sun except the one part of him that I would want, his love, his heart, his affection. Not clothes or carriages or Midas’ gold.”
Shaking her head, Penelope said, “I guess Benedict was right.”
“You cannot tell a soul,” Alice implored her, taking her sister’s hands immediately. “Please, Elly, this must be kept between us and between us alone.”
“So, there happens to be a rather delicate predicament we have found ourselves in,” Penelope murmured. “And I don’t mean the burgeoning scandal of Benedict courting me, I mean—” her hand fell to her belly, “—this.”
“I know,” Alice sighed. “It is very difficult being in that way. But I am sure it will be fine. Has he made any intentions to soon ask for your hand in marriage?”
Penelope shook her head mutely.
“He will,” Alice comforted.
“Don’t you think it is unfair to expect a man to raise another man’s child?” Penelope whispered.
