She had sworn she would never forgive him; and now, ten years later, she sat next to him at a house party, pretending that nothing had ever happened between them so long ago, and that she was now married to the man sitting across the table from her.
Ellen felt a headache coming on and wanted to go back to her room, but Edmund intercepted her and took her arm possessively. He frowned at her.
"If you tell me to smile, I'll scream," she warned.
“I'll say no such thing. But you do not seem very well. That Mattick must have said something to upset you."
Her eyes shot up to meet his. She hadn't expected him to be so perceptive.
She waved him away. "An old acquaintance ... of my father's. It adds another complicated layer to this charade and makes it difficult to maintain our own pretence. Can we not cut this visit short and just leave? You have made your point. Everyone here is convinced that you are married. It seems to me that neither of us is happy here. So why stay?"
He ran a weary hand through his hair. "Because I promised Dobberham. But perhaps you are right, and it would be better for us to cut it short. We could leave tomorrow."
Ellen looked at him with relief. "Thank you."
"The child may object," Edmund said. "He seems to like it here."
Ellen gave him a surprised look.
"I visited him in the nursery earlier," he explained.
"You ... visited him in the nursery?" Ellen blinked.
Edmund shrugged. "Thought I'd keep an eye on the little fellow. Doesn't know anyone here, doesn't speak. Thought he might feel a mite lonely. But I saw that he's made friends with Dobberham's children, though he still refuses to speak."
Ellen had also checked on the child daily and would never have imagined that Edmund had done the same. She felt a warmth spreading through her chest.
"That is very nice of you to think of the welfare of the child."
"He and I might have some things in common." Edmund tugged at his cravat. "I say. I'll inform Dobberham of our decision. Then it's just a matter of getting through this evening's entertainment."
At first,everything seemed to go smoothly. Louisa had decided on riddles and asked each participant to draw their partner from a slip of paper.
Tewkbury, however, stubbornly refused to draw a name and put his arm around Ellen's shoulder. "We'll be partners."
No amount of persuasion or cajoling could change his mind.
The riddles went well, because Ellen had memorised almost an entire book of them from using them with her students. Since she knew most of the answers, she won.
"It's not fair," Miss Mary complained, "because Lady Tewkbury clearly has the advantage over all of us."
Robert, interestingly, had not done well. He had laughed and thrown forfeit after forfeit into the basket, as if he didn't care that he had lost.
He was the first to redeem them, too.
"Kiss the one you love best," Louisa told him, which was by now a predictable request, and Ellen would have thought nothing of it if it hadn't been Robert.
"Oh dear," Robert muttered, turning around in a circle of giggling women, "who shall I choose?"
Many men in this position would simply kiss more than one woman to keep their true love a secret, but not Robert. No.
Of course, he would choose her.
"Lady Tewkbury." He stood before her, his eyes glittering.
Ellen stiffened.
A ferocious growl emerged from Edmund's throat.
