“Have I not made myself and my wishes clear?” she demanded to know, her lower lip trembling.
Being so close to her, he could see the fiery red tendrils of her hair. He noticed how they shimmered around her face every time she moved. He immediately let go of her, as if she were made of fire. The very thought of touching her again burned his very soul. He tried to focus on what he just heard. He tried to shake off this sudden rush of feelings, this newfound knowledge that she had grown from a little orphan into a beautiful young lady. However, the more he tried to banish these thoughts, the more persistent they would become, unwilling to leave his mind, and more dangerously, his heart.
“You have done exactly that,” he acknowledged, taking a step back, as if that would allow him some distance from her, as well as from his own troublesome thoughts. “But the solicitor has also explained that you cannot merely sign away your rights.”
“Oh, they are my rights, now?” She gave him a side glance, daring him to reply.
“My father has made it clear that he wishes to provide for you even after death,” he explained, the question of their next step apparent in his eyes.
“But you are not your father.”
“I do not claim to be.” His response was swift, renouncing.
“Then you would know that I do not need anything from you.” Her voice was soft, but he could not fail to notice the dangerous tone underneath the soft surface.
He could see her clench her fists, but in fact it was he who was endeavoring to calm his racing heart. This was a battle, and he had no idea which side he was on. He felt a sudden rush of words, but they only formed inside his mind, not on his tongue. Instead, he clenched his teeth, feeling powerless to say or do anything that hadn’t already been said or done.
“Perhaps we can arrange something,” he suggested, not even knowing what exactly he had been referring to. “I am certain that my father would want us to be… friends.”
“Your father is not here any longer,” she reminded him, as if he even needed that reminder. “There is no need to impress him any longer or do anything that brings you discomfort. The estate will be yours for I wish nothing to have with who is left from your family.”
With those words, she stepped around him and walked out of the solicitor’s corridor. Heat rose in flames inside of him, flushing his face. Yet, it was not anger. It was something much worse. It was helplessness. It was the need to play by rules that were not set up by himself, but by someone else, favoring someone else.
For a moment, he considered following her. But he knew that doing so right now would be foolish. It would be downright wrong. He might even say things he might not be able to take back. Lord knows that he was apt to do so often. So, he remained where he was, hoping that there would be an opportunity to still play this game, and perhaps somehow, find a way to rise out of it a winner.
Chapter 3
“Ido not see what the trouble could be with this arrangement,” Edith mused importantly, her forehead furrowing ever so slightly, but a moment later, it was smooth once again. Her face was covered in freckles which, depending on Edith’s momentary mood, would either be a source of joy or annoyance.
“Can you really not?” Marjorie frowned, leaning towards the table to help herself to some tea.
The two girls had no plan for the afternoon, only hours spent in pleasant togetherness, enjoying the soft sunshine of the oncoming summer, as the rays peeked from behind an occasional cloud. The breeze would appear occasionally, reminding them that a thin-fabric spencer was still needed.
“No,” Edith shook her head. “Do enlighten me.”
“Well, first and foremost, that means that we need to spend time together,” Marjorie reminded her of the worst condition of the late earl’s testament. “In order for him to accommodate me with a husband, he needs to find one for me and he also needs to chaperone us.”
“It is a burden you must bear for the good of you both,” Edith explained. “From where I stand, you both stand to lose if you do not find a husband.”
“He loses more,” Marjorie commented stubbornly.
“Yes, that is true,” Edith spoke with a rational mind, and that was only a part of why she had always been Marjorie’s best friend. “But also, you mentioned you do not wish to live alone in that grand old house.”
“Not alone, but…”
“But?” Edith’s eyes shone in expectance to her friend’s reply.
“Oh, nothing,” Marjorie sighed. “I suppose I always hoped that I would marry for love. I mean, what does Alexander even know about me? How on earth will he be able to find me a husband I would approve of?”
“See, that is why it is a good thing that you shall be spending more time together,” Edith immediately found another rational benefit.
“Why?” Marjorie wondered curiously. She brought the teacup to her lips and sipped the soothing liquid.
She considered herself fortunate, considering all the events that had befallen her in her life. Her parents died when she was only a baby, and with no relatives to take her in, she ended up at the orphanage. Several years later, she found herself begging in the streets of London, making ends meet. Two good things followed those years. The first one was her unbreakable friendship with the young woman who was sitting opposite her now. The second one was being in the right place at the right time to stumble onto the Earl of Trowbridge. The rest was history.
The little money she had was enough to rent a little house on the outskirts of London, and Alexander’s additional financial support helped much. However, without that, Marjorie knew that she would not be able to support herself.
“Because you two would get to know each other again,” Edith explained in the tone of a governess who was used to explaining something to little children repeatedly with the same amount of patience.
