The room went wild, all turning away from the stage to view the ruckus. The crowd surged toward the fight, a mix of busybodies aiming for a better look and men determined to either end or enter the fray.
No one noticed Edward climb the stage. No one noticed as he grabbed both women and dragged them down the steps.
He started with Luella, gripping her shoulders and looking her dead in the eye. “I will not marry you, no matter what scandal it causes, no matter how much your reputation will be damaged, no matter what society may think. I will not be a gentleman. Despite whatever my mother promised you, I’m not so scared of scandal that I would ever take you as a wife.”
Panic crossed Luella’s face. She did not cry, though. She held her chin high with the arrogance of a woman who had only ever known privilege. “You do not know what you’re doing. You don't understand.I would be a perfect duchess for you. I swear it.”
“But not a perfect wife.”
Her eyes filled with tears and she pressed her gloved fist to her lips before fleeingto the nearest exit.
Edward turned to his mother. “I’ve quite acclimatized to the idea of a scandal, Mother. You will not manipulate me into an engagement a second time.”
The duchess’s face twisted into a sneer, showing the ugliness that was always there yet usually hidden. “You will marry a woman worthy of the title. Someone who hastrainedfor the role. Who will bring esteem to our name.”
“Fuck our name, Mother. She will bring love, and joy, and kindness, and that’s worth more than a good reputation could ever be.”
***
Fiona stood, mouth agape, at the teeming mass of color at the front of the room. While she was vaguely aware of William being restrained by three men and yelled at by no fewer than four old dragons of theton, her attention was fixed on Edward, to the side, almost hidden by potted palms.
He was furious.
His mother was staring up at him, an equally furious, equally stubborn look on her face. Fi had a good idea what crisis had just been averted, but the feeling of relief that washed over her was not for Edward and the miserable future he’d managed to avoid. It was a selfish relief that, for now, he wasn’t engaged to someone else.
It would happen, of course. He couldn’t remain a bachelor forever. He was a duke. He had a responsibility to produce an heir. She simply hoped that by the time he did, her heart would be mended a little, so she could receive news of his betrothal and feel happiness for him rather than grief.
“Egad. What the devil is all of that about?” Lord Chester said, frowning at the ruckus.
“I’m sure I have no idea,” she murmured.
“The boy has always been a hellion. Wildeforde really should take him in hand.”
How hypocritical, coming from a man whose potential investment in her matches was because he loved a good bet more than anything else. “I think Will just needs to find his purpose in life,” she said.
Chester shrugged. “Perhaps. Now, McTavish. You had something to show me that couldn’t wait until tomorrow. I assume it proves the provenance of the matches.”
“Yes, my lord.” She nodded a little too hard and felt her wig slip just a fraction. Chester didn’t seem to notice, so she ignored the itch to adjust it and instead reached into her inside coat pocket to retrieve the signed patent and pressed it into his hand. “So you can see, these match designs are mine.”
His expression remained unreadable and her heart began to yammer as she waited for a response. She needed this to be over with. She needed the problem solved, the deal fixed, so she could go to the magistrate tomorrow and have this whole mess sorted out. Then she would go home and pretend that she hadn’t fallen in love with a duke, effectively breaking her own heart this time.
Lord Chester frowned as he read through the patent details.
Behind her, she could hear the now-familiar swell of alarm and intrigue. She tried to ignore it. Nothing that was happening elsewhere in the room was as important as what was happening in front of her. Not even Edward.
Lord Chester turned his attention to the seal of the patent office. He held it to the light, as though he was checking for some sign of authenticity.
The buzzing grew louder.
She held her breath, waiting. If he accepted this as all the proof he needed, and if he was willing to act quickly…
His attention returned to the first few lines of the patent and his frown deepened. “So, tell me…” He trailed off as something behind her caught his attention. His eyes widened.
For God’s sake.She turned around.
Oh heavens, no.
Six uniformed guards marched in her direction, not twenty feet away. At their head was Inspector Patterson, with a grim look on his face.
