“I’m sure he’s simply delayed due to work. Perhaps there’s been an emergency session.” Or perhaps he was out causing another completely unnecessary scandal. She should have returned to London sooner. According toThe Times, Edward had walked down Bond Street yesterday making lewd comments toward every gentleman he passed.
Mrs. Phillips looked around, as if to make sure no one was listening. “He’s been drinking.”
“Drinking? By himself?” Hell, maybe he hadn’t been sending her a message. Maybe all these scandals were simply the result of him getting foxed after decades of sobriety.
Fiona swallowed, an uneasy feeling settling in her stomach. She could have misread this so easily. She’d been gone for almost a month. What if, while she’d been miserable and pining for him, he’d moved on with his life? A life unfettered by the restrictions of his position and reputation, because she’d destroyed all of that.
Now that Fiona had thoroughly ruined him, there was nothing holding him back from the life that many men of his ilk led. Hell, he could be wooing an actress.
Fi could feel the blood drain from her face, and she had to grip the edge of the stairs to keep from racing out of the house and back home to Abingdale. She drew in a shaky breath. After everything she had done, he had the right to come home and break her heart. Staying to give him the choice was the least she could do.
Mrs. Phillips patted Fiona comfortingly on the shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be home soon, Your Grace.”
Your Grace.Fiona’s hackles rose whenever she heard the ill-fitting words. No one in Abingdale had dared use it, but if she was going to show Edward that she was willing to try and be the duchess he needed—respectable, amiable, somewhat conventional—then responding to the honorific fell into the “bare minimum” category of things to be doing.
“How is Mrs. Price? Is she furious? All that work the kitchen staff put in today, with no notice…Will it keep another hour?”
“Don’t you worry about Mrs. Price, Your Grace. It’s not the first time an exceptional meal has been spoiled by an unpredictable lord or lady. The dowager duchess was notorious for it.”
It was small consolation. Fiona’s eyes stung with tears. “It was an exceptional dinner, wasn’t it?” Her voice quivered.
The housekeeper gave her a kind smile. “Yes, Your Grace. You did a lovely job.”
Fiona nodded and dabbed at her eyes, her gloves absorbing her tears. The only thing the silk was good for.
Planning a menu hadn’t been fun. It certainly would never be the sole focus of her day, and, in truth, she’d likely allocate the responsibility to someone else. But she did want to show Edward that she would meet halfway if he could.
Ifhe came home.
***
Hours later, Fiona woke, her head resting at an odd angle against the wall. She straightened, rolling her shoulders in circles and stretching her head from side to side as she tried to work out the kinks that had formed.
What was the time? How long had she slept? Where was Edward?
The foyer and staircase were dim, with only a handful of lamps lit to guide the way. She stood, reaching for the banister to steady herself. The muscles in her legs, frozen from the awkward angle she’d slept in, protested painfully.
“Fiona?”
Edward moved from shadows into the light. He was home. Behind him, Simmons was hanging his coat. That was why she’d woken. She must have heard the door close.
“Fi?”
Oh, God, she needed to say something.
“Are you well? What the devil is the matter?” Edward rushed up the stairs two at a time as she stumbled down them. They met halfway on the landing, Edward taking both her arms to steady her.
“I…” She looked up at him, all memory of her carefully rehearsed speech evaporating. She inhaled the scent of him, that ink and leather, and relief at his nearness soaked through every part of her.
She gripped his forearms tightly. “Edward, I…”
He pulled back. “I kissed Lady Walderstone,” he blurted out. “In the middle of the dance floor. I swept her out of her husband’s arms and kissed her.”
He looked so serious, so worried. She pressed a hand to his cheek. “I heard. Is it serious between the two of ye?”
Her attempt at humor did not land. His brows furrowed in confusion until he shook his head and continued. “And I lost an obscene amount of money this afternoon betting on whether or not a horse outside would take a shit. It’s documented in White’s betting book. Forever.”
“Well…” She pressed her lips together trying not to laugh as he regarded her so earnestly. He had such a grave expression as he ran a hand through his hair.
