He looked at her, this common-born woman in men’s clothing with liberal opinions who created fire. Marrying her was the very opposite of what he was trying to achieve in life.
“No. If it means losing you, then no.”
***
Once again, Edward snuck out of her rooms just as day broke, leaving her sated, her limbs sinking heavy into the mattress, her breath drawing long and deep. But while their lovemaking had left her body in a bliss-like state, her conflicting thoughts nagged at her from all directions, each with its own particular worry to champion.
There was only one thing each thought agreed upon. She was in love with Edward. She loved the way he loved his family. She loved the way he took care of his people. She loved the way he used his position to enact real change. She loved the way he loved her mind and never tried to make her conceal it.
In the time that had passed since the Macklebury ball, Edward and the duke had both shown up, day after day, and she’d found the truth of him somewhere between the man she had known and the lord that everyone saw.
Fiona tapped at her temples as though she could physically push all the thoughts into line. It worked sometimes, when she was on the brink of a scientific insight. But no matter how hard she tapped, they kept circling.
Being with Edward now. Being with him tomorrow.Notbeing with him in a month. What had been a clear decision—to love him for whatever time they had left—now felt murky. What was logical—that once her trial was over, they said their final good-byes—was perhaps not right. And that made no sense.
She huffed and threw back the covers. She didn’t want to be a duchess. That was the primary, salient point and that hadn’t changed. All of the thoughts that were suggesting otherwise could go jump into the Thames.
She pulled on her stockings, then breeches. Her energy would be better spent contemplating the day ahead, not the conundrum that was her relationship. She’d retrieved the stolen plans and matches last night, but there was still work to do. She needed to confirm her patent so that any further attempt to take credit for her work would come to nil. And maybe, if she could bring herself to do it, she would once again try to talk to her father.
She took a deep breath in and then shook it out. She could do this. She’d broken into the grounds of Westminster Palace, for goodness’ sake. She could have a conversation with the man who sired her.
But not without a fortifying breakfast. She kept an eye out as she made her way to the dining room, keen to avoid the duchess and any of her staff, who had joined the bustle of Wildeforde House.
For the past week she and Edward had fallen into the habit of breakfasting together. Her, because she had always been an early riser, and Edward, because he had work to do for his estates before going to parliament.
It had become a pleasant ritual. When they weren’t in the middle of a debate, Edward would readThe Timeswhile she’d readThe Morning Post, and once they were both done, they’d swap.
Neither Charlotte nor William had ever appeared before midday, so it was unexpected to see them at the breakfast table this morning. It was not unexpected to see them slumped over the table, bleary-eyed and gripping desperately to their chocolate.
As always, Edward stood as she entered. “To what do we owe the pleasure this mornin’?” she asked the siblings as she filled a plate from the offering on the buffet table.
“Mother is in town,” William said. “And if the choice is between rising at this ungodly hour or having breakfast with her, I choose to rise early.” William grunted his appreciation at the footman who had just placed a large plate of greasy meats and toast in front of him.
“What William said,” Charlotte added, lifting her head from the table. She graciously accepted a single piece of toast. “Except it’s also time for a war council.”
“War council?” Fiona asked as she sat. “My, that sounds dramatic.” She tried to sound light and unconcerned, but good God, what new problem had befallen them? Surely Edward hadn’t told his sister about the Home Office, and William would have been mad to tell Charlotte about last night’s adventures.
She glanced at Edward, his gaze connecting with hers over the newspaper. He looked as confused as she was.
Charlotte straightened, drained her chocolate, and signaled for another cup. “The mission was to find Edward a fiancée before Mother arrived in London. For whatever reason”—she leveled a disapproving glare at her eldest brother—“that mission has not yet been accomplished.”
Fiona squirmed. No doubt Charlotte had been expecting an announcement, given the scene she’d walked in on at the Macklebury ball. She couldn’t know that neither Edward nor Fiona saw that future.
If William hadn’t been there, she would have defended Edward against Charlotte’s censure. But thankfully—hopefully—William knew nothing about their liaison.
Edward sighed and folded the paper, clearly realizing that this wasn’t a conversation topic he’d be able to dismiss quickly. “Finding me a bride is no longer the mission. Let it go.”
“I am not about to ‘let it go’ when you are about to be trapped into matrimony.”
He shook his head. “I’m hardly about to be trapped. Mother has other things to preoccupy her at the moment,” Edward said, his annoyance clear.
Other things like taking me down.Fiona shivered.
His sister looked at him with a superior expression. “You have a letter from the editor ofThe Timessitting on the salver in the hall. He really should use thicker parchment if he doesn’t want his correspondence read before it’s opened.” She bit into the toast daintily, fully aware of the chaos her announcement would cause.
“You read my correspondence?”
“Just the bit I could see when I held it up to the light.”
