“He knows and still wants to be with you,” Alice reassured her sister again. “When the two of you speak again, let him know how you are feeling and then leave that at his feet. If he takes it up, you will know that he loves you and would do anything for you.
“A woman increasing is not always an ostracized person,” Alice added. “Yes, there are those who have fallen prey to unspeakable actions, but there is always someone there to help with the babe when it comes.”
Belatedly, she looked up and caught sight of Eliza passing the doorway. Alice stilled. Had she heard their conversation? If so, just how much had she heard?
But her cousin kept walking without so much as a glance their way. Perhaps she hadn’t heard—or simply didn’t care to. Penelope, catching the unease in Alice’s expression, turned worried eyes toward her.
“Do you think she heard?” she whispered.
“I hardly think she cares,” Alice whispered back. “But we should probably take care to keep mentions of thatconditionto a minimum. The walls might have ears.”
“I agree,” Penelope nodded. “Itissad, though, about you and His Grace. For what it’s worth, I think the two of you would have made a splendid match.”
Her gaze turned contemplative. “He doesn’t strike me as one of those men chasing after Diamonds, seeking only a bauble to adorn his arm. There’s a depth to him, something rare. And you—” she paused, her voice softening—“you possess a practical mind and a heart so full of warmth. It is difficult to imagine he wouldn’t see that.”
“If only,” Alice breathed. “If only he felt the same way, because I do love him. But he is too closed off, and I don’t think he will ever let anyone in. He is decided on leaving England and I have no power to stop him. Once his mind is set, there is no turning him.”
“I am sorry about that too,” Penelope smiled weakly. “Benedict is graduating soon, and he will be taking over.”
“I know,” Alice replied with a wistful sigh. “Perhaps it is all for the best.”
Rain was misting on the rifle, but it did little to dissuade Edward’s mind—he eyed the target through the sight of his firearm and pulled the trigger. The field was spread over four acres of picturesque countryside, the shooting ground nestled within the original Royal hunting grounds dating back to Elizabeth I.
“Are you sure we need to be out here?” Felton adjusted his bowler hat. “I can imagine a hundred more things you could be doing, a dozen more places you could be lounging, and one particular woman you could be around instead of this—” he waved his hand to the muddy field and the targets surrounding them.
“Did you truly make a trip from all the way up York to harangue me at every given turn,” Edward scowled while carefully loading another bullet. “And, for the record, it was either this or have my ribs rearranged at Jack’s.”
“Or,” Felton stepped up to line his shot, “you could stop being a stubborn bastard, swallow your pride, and go to the woman you seem to be so enamored by—then drop to your knees and apologize.”
Something twisted the knot in Edward’s chest tighter. “I don’t grovel.”
“Then it’s high time you learned, old boy,” Felton replied, his tone brisk as he fired the gun without hesitation.
“She expects marriage,” Edward muttered, the words heavy on his tongue. “That, too, with love and affection. And you know I’ve sworn to be a bachelor until the last of my days.”
“But I can’t seem to understand just why…” Felton huffed as he bent to sweep the bullet he’d dropped.
Cocking his weapon over his shoulder, Edward retold—for the third time that day—the tale of his heartless father. The relentless pursuit of legacy, the bitter spite aimed at his family, the crushing expectation that Edward would follow in his footsteps—all of it poured out once more.
Every word carried the weight of old wounds and unspoken resentment, yet even as he spoke, it all felt too…hollow. A hollow echo of grievances he’d clung to for too long. He finished with a curt, “And I have already promised the position to Benedict someday, besides.”
Felton’s eyes stayed fixed on Edward, unyielding, his silence stretching unbearably. Then, as if the tension had reached its breaking point, he threw his head back and let out an uproarious laugh.
“Will you stop mocking me,” he grumbled.
“I will, when you decide to pull your head from the ground and breathe fresh air, or at least acknowledge the sun glaring in your face,” Felton laughed. “I still can’t quite grip the inanity of it all. Surely even you must see the madness on the very surface.
“You are willing to punish yourself and a woman who, by all accounts, would assent to your…propositions,without the slightest qualm—over some childish vows?” he went on, his gaze cutting. “If you presented the red hemp and she neither fled nor fainted dead away, then, my friend, you should be fighting tooth and nail to keep her. Surely someone has told you all of this before?”
Edward sighed, then nodded. “Benedict has.”
“Benedict has?Benedicthas? Christ up above. Then swallow your pride and admit you love her,” Felton grated, dropping the rifle to his side and facing Edward squarely. “To whom do you owe the carrying of these puerile vows to then? You’ve not committed any unforgivable sins, you’re not a murderer, you haven’t destroyed men for wealth, nor have you gambled yourself into the poorhouse. The problem you have is that you cannot see past your own nose to the flower just beneath it. It is a spite to a man that has long been dead.”
“He may be dead, but even the idea of seeing him with a prideful gleam in his eye someday as I did all he expected from me and more, is enough to make me feel…disgusting and filthy.I would rather have gambled myself into the poor house than see that pride reflected in his gaze.”
“It is fortunate for you that he shall remain dead then, eh?” Felton clapped Edward on the shoulder before moving back to his firing line. “Besides, he’s probably burning in hell if he is half the cretin you have described him to be, so that is not really a concern either.”
Tilting his head to the sky and the still misting rain, Edward muttered, “I should have gone to Jack’s. At least the beating there did not come with a side of crushing self-reflection and strangled pride.”
