His mother poured a cup of tea, pretending that this was a normal, polite conversation rather than the interrogation it was. “Why, nothing at all. Only that I’m so very glad to have arrived in time. To meet her during her stay, that is.”
Fiona met his mother’s saccharine smile with her own. “I’m sure she’ll be flattered by yer attentions, Yer Grace. If you’ll excuse me.”
She bowed once more, then spun on her heel and marched out of the room. Edward made to follow but stopped at the door when his mother called out.
“Duke, I expect Miss McTavish to join us tomorrow night at Augustus’s soiree. Her brother too.”
Edward nodded curtly. “Excuse me, Mother.”
Charlotte jumped up. “Excuse me also, Mother. Your unexpected arrival has flooded my senses with joy, and I fear I must liedown.” She crossed to Edward and took his hand. “Brother, escort me to my rooms?”
Together they walked silently out the door and down the corridor until they were out of earshot.
“You said we had a month,” Edward hissed.
“I thought we did! Do you think she suspects Fiona and Finley are the same person?”
“If she didn’t before she does now.”
***
“Why didn’t ye tell me yer mother was visiting?” Fiona threw open the trunk that she’d dragged to the end of her bed. She had to get out of his home. It was too risky to stay.
First Luella. Now Edward’s mother. Both of them knew or suspected the truth of her deception. Both were more than happy to see her life implode. And if Lord Chester discovered her lie before the contract was signed, there was a chance it wouldn’t get signed at all.
“I was as shocked as you were to see her here, I promise. I wasn’t expecting her for another fortnight.”
She began to pick up her items and toss them into the trunk. Another two weeks and everything would have been over. She’d have sold her matches, the trial would be concluded, and she’d be back home in Abingdale.
If Abingdale was still home. It would take time before money from the matches started coming in—not until they’d been produced in bulk and purchases were made. Until then, her home was with her father. But she wasn’t sure she could even face him now, let alone live with him.
Her heart ached at the thought, and tears filled her eyes. Perhaps she could stay with Ben and Amelia. Maybe she could live in John’s cottage until he returned home from America.
“This is a disaster,” she said when she realized Edward was waiting for a response. “She kens who I am.”
“She probably suspects. Would you put down the boot?” Edward grabbed her hand, and she realized she’d been gesticulating wildly with the footwear. She dropped it into the trunk on top of the crumpled shirts and balled up stockings.
“The only thing that we can absolutely count on is that Mother won’t risk the Wildeforde name. She won’t expose you, publicly anyway.”
That did nothing to assuage any of her concerns. The duchess could still do a lot of damage privately. “If she won’t expose me, then what?”
He sighed, massaging between his brows. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to tell her. “She’ll use the information to destroy any chance you have of making your business a success and she’ll manipulate me into marrying a girl of her choice.”
“Oh. Is that all?” Fiona couldn’t help the bubble of horrified laughter that escaped her. “Well, that’s just grand.” She picked up the boot’s twin and tossed it into the trunk. Then she grabbed her night rail from the end of the bed and began to roll it.
Edward put a gentle hand on hers and this feeling that she had, that she might suddenly fly apart, settled at his touch. “You can’t leave,” he said.
Was he insane? She couldn’tstay. No, she had to leave. It was better for all of them if her connections with the Wildeforde family were severed, especially given her father was likely responsible for the explosion, putting Edward’s entire family at risk. If it came out that someone under his roof was connected to men like Tucker? It would cause a scandal even greater than her charade being discovered. It would ruin him.
No. She’d return to Benedict’s town house until she could solve her business problems, and then she’d go home.
“It’s best if I go,” she said, trying to ignore the painful lump in her throat. “Coming to live with ye was a terrible idea in the first place.” Losing him twice had been hard enough. This third time might actually break her.
“You can’t leave. Residing here is a condition of your parole.” She made to interrupt but he put up a hand. “And the Home Office is investigating you,” he said quietly. There was a leaden timbre to his voice that caused even more dread than the wordsHome Office.
“It’swhat? For throwing a tomato? This is unbelievable.” She had been a wretched fool to go to that bloody protest. All her problems—well, almost all her problems—could be traced back to that one moment.
“They think you’re associating with Charles Tucker.”
