But he was simply not willing to thwart his mother’s wishes after how wounded and rattled she’d been by Gabriel’s outburst at her over her decision to not allow her children to see or speak with Lady Seabury or any of Lady Seabury’s connections. She’d been pale and shaking, and she’d wept for days, moaning over and over about how she didn’t realise he was so angry with her, and that she dreaded to think her own children might hate her for preventing them from forming attachments with the people who’d wounded her so deeply.
But she’d also been deeply worried about Gabriel’s head wound. It had been terrible, and he had not been quite himself for months afterward. Even still, he seemed not to be quite himself sometimes, since the fall, but Raphe had to wonder if that had more to do with his war wounds than the head injury from his fall.
Miss Wingfield and Lord Edward passed close by him as they danced, and her warm laughter might as well have been a knife in his heart.
He thought, just for a moment, that a look of shock and offense might have passed over Miss Wingfield’s face, and the urge to interrupt their dance was so overwhelming that he’d taken three long strides toward them before he realised what he was doing and stopped himself, shaking his head.
His mother had expressly forbidden him from pursuing Miss Wingfield, so he should not interfere with her life, despite the fact that his instincts screamed at him that something was wrong, and that any decent gentleman had a duty to help a young lady whose face bore such a shocked expression, even for a moment.
But just as soon as he noticed it, the expression was gone and Miss Wingfield was smiling again, looking just as charmed as ever.
You are just jealous. Be man enough to admit that to yourself at least.
* * *
Lord Edward Melthornwas suffering a massive attack of conscience. Miss Eliza Wingfield was so kind and genuine that he could not bear simply to use her for his own ends without letting her know exactly what he was up to.
It was a gamble, to be sure. There was a chance that she would not take mercy on him, that she would disapprove, that she would reveal his secret to Lady Bitterwood or to the Duchess of Elkington, and then where would he be? Surely no closer to finding a way to make Catherine his, but he simply could not lie to and use a young lady as kind and friendly as Miss Wingfield. His conscience as a gentleman would not allow it.
His heart knocked violently against his ribs as they danced. He loved Catherine more than anything in the world and did not want to risk losing her, but he could not continue duping Miss Wingfield without letting her know the score, so to speak. When they moved close enough together during the dance that he was certain they would not be overheard, Edward cleared his throat and looked Miss Wingfield directly in the eye.
“I fear I must confess something to you, Miss Wingfield… but you must promise me that you will not expose what I am about to tell you to anyone.”
Miss Wingfield’s eyes widened and her face clearly registered shock for the whole room to see, but she mastered her expression quickly, giving him a nod of assent as the quadrille carried them away from each other. When they moved back together again, Miss Wingfield smiled up at him — though it looked a little forced from this close — and spoke through clenched teeth.
“Why do I feel as if whatever you are about to confess to me is going to make a mess of things, not just for you or me, but possibly for others, too?”
“Because — apparently — you have impeccable instincts, Miss Wingfield.” Edward swallowed uncomfortably and looked away for a moment, then forced himself to meet her gaze again. “I am madly in love with Lady Catherine Stewart, and I have been using you as a cover to get close to her because we are forbidden to see each other.”
Eliza stifled a gasp, her cheeks reddening as she let out a distinctly unladylike snort.
“I don’t know whether to be insulted or relieved.”
“Why would you be relieved?” Edward blinked down at her, completely thrown off balance by her unexpected reaction.
“Because, like you, my true feelings are otherwise engaged, Lord Edward.” Eliza forced herself not to turn and look at the Duke of Elkington, though she knew exactly where he was just as surely as she knew that her heart had ached for the sight of him all summer long. “Do you mind if I ask why you are forbidden to be with one another?”
Lord Edward grimaced.
“The short version is that our mothers have a very long, sordid history of hating each other with a passion.”
Eliza swallowed and pressed her lips into a thin, contemplative line.
“And do you plan to continue to use me as a cover?”
“That depends entirely on whether or not you plan to expose me, and I beg you not to. I love Catherine most desperately, and only need some time and cover in which to find a way to marry her without killing both our mothers of shock.”
Eliza groaned and shook her head, letting out a long-suffering sigh.
“Fine. I will not expose you, but understand this: I am not doing this for you. I am doing this for Lady Catherine, because she is my friend and I want her to be happy.”
* * *
The last thingin the world Lady Catherine Stewart wanted was to be violently jealous of Miss Eliza Wingfield, but the world seemed to have other plans about that.
At every turn, her beloved Edward seemed to be pursuing Miss Wingfield, and she was unsure of whether it was because — perhaps — his mother wished him to marry someone like Miss Wingfield, or was it that he was falling in love with Eliza?
It was easy for Catherine to see how one might fall in love with a girl like Eliza Wingfield. She was so kind and warm that people seemed drawn to her like moths to flame, since Raphe had managed to draw her out of the safety of her life as an invisible wallflower at the end of the previous Season.
