Chapter Thirty-Nine
Amelia resembled a caged animalas Edward stepped closer. But she was looking at him, actually looking him in the eye with those glorious eyes of hers, and that was enough to loosen his tongue.
“The rumors.”
“Yes. We seem to have surpassed even our loftiest goals of scandal.”
He choked on a surprised chuckle. Could she truly be jesting now? “We ought to be proud.”
“I am not sure I would go quite that far.” Her wary expression slipped as she pressed her lips together, her broken pain clear.
He had done that. He had caused that pain.
“I am so sorry about the rumors.”
“I... I do not need your apologies. I need the truth.”
He nodded. “What have they told you?”
With a deep breath, she lowered herself to a chair across from him. “Your parents’ marriage was essentially loveless.”
Edward’s brows lifted. That was not where he’d expected the dowager countesses would begin. “Is that all?”
“No.” Another deep breath, as if she were convincing herself she wished to have this conversation. Her eyes flitted from his for only a heartbeat. “The first woman... she was attempting to ensnare you. And the second. They were not your fault. They were not dalliances at all.” The statement sounded more like a question, and her hands twisted in her lap, a clear contrast to her steady words and gaze.
“Nor any of them after, Amelia. Not a one.”
For a moment, hope flickered beneath her raised lashes. He stood while she remained seated, her neck lifting to search his eyes. “I swear it, Amelia.”
“Then why, Edward?” Broken desire and determined emotion warred in her voice.
“It started with the stupid folly of a young man desperate for a father’s attention, I suppose. The only times he gave me an approving look were when he’d heard how I hadn’t allowed this woman or that to ensnare me. Then, when he died, I became a prize to theton, a title only, nothing more. Various women attempted to catch my eye, to become a countess, but I saw beneath their social-climbing schemes. I wanted nothing to do with them. Some particularly tenacious women thought they might ensnare me. A handful managed to corner me behind closed doors, timing the encounter so their brothers or their fathers or their mothers would find us together and would, they believed, force me to marry them. And perhaps I was wrong to do so, but I did not care one whit what happened to such conniving women. I refused to be bullied into marriage.” His throat closed up. He did not wish to speak of this, did not wish to lay each of his failures at Amelia’s feet, but hehad to.
“I-I was—am—ashamed by the lack of care I was capable of displaying. I was no gentleman. I was my father, Amelia. I did nothing to stop their advances if I saw them coming. Without a thought for another or the repercussions of my actions, I turned those women away and allowed them to fend for themselves.”
“But you were not complicit in their ruin. Not really. Why would you allow Society to believe you were at fault when truly it was the unscrupulous women?”
A part of him begged to release some jest or teasing comment if only to escape the fear that unearthing all of this lit within him. But her eyes, still on his, kept him from allowing such a remark. She had not yet turned from him, and that gave Edward strength to admit the rest.
Slowly, he lowered himself to sit on the low table in front of her. From this position, they were eye to eye.
“Because I am not innocent here, Amelia. At times, it was a sort of game with myself to discover who would next attempt to ensnare me. Often, I saw them coming and would allow myself to be led into a trap. I used those women’s aspirations, and my reputation, to avoid having to face thetondirectly. To avoid marriage at all. Enough episodes had occurred that I believe my appeal diminished in the eyes of Society. Hardly anyone wanted their daughters near me so long as such scandal surrounded me. It was an escape I privately enjoyed—not the actions of the women, I could never enjoy that—but the results of those actions. I enjoyed the excuse to avoid marriage. I enjoyed keeping Society at arm’s length and never having to find that I was as incapable of genuine connection as my parents were. And lately, I’ve come to realize that I... I enjoyed the distraction from the pain I felt at losing a father who never even cared for me. And a mother who hardly had it in her to care for anyone by the time I was old enough to remember.”
“Oh, Edward.”
He now struggled to meet her eyes, having borne his soul so entirely. His hands came up to rub his face, elbows falling to his knees. The confession felt like a weight was lifted from him, but at the same time, he feared he was creating distance between him and Amelia that could not be traversed.
And then, with a feather-light touch, her hand grazed his hands where they still covered his face. His breath caught in his chest, and he looked up again.
“Why would you not just tell me?”
“I was ashamed.” He still was. “I was ashamed of the way I acted and wished to simply put it all behind me. Instead, I concocted a harebrained scheme to romance you into seeing only the good in me.” He laughed humorlessly, finally meeting her eyes, nearly level with his own. “But you saw right through that. You did not allow my ridiculous flower-giving or poetry-sending attempts. And that is...” He paused for a steadying breath. He’d come this far. He may as well tell all. “That is when I first began to fall in love with you.”
He saw her stiffen but plowed forward even still.
“I convinced myself I would be able to create a happy marriage without sharing this part of me. But that marriage could only ever be a sham, and I know that now. I am sorry, Amelia. I feared if you saw me for the coward I am, you could never love me.”
There was a tense, expectation-filled beat of silence. Edward thought his heart might escape through his throat, and he attempted to read her thoughts through her eyes.
