How to Fall for the Wrong Man (Ladies of Passion) Page 13

  “He’s darling,” Winifred exclaimed with a smile. “What’s his name? Is he yours?”

  “Mine,” I volunteered. “And his name is Puck. His manners have improved greatly since I rescued him from near starvation.”

  Edwin raised his eyebrows, incredulous, but didn’t challenge the statement. Instead, he added pointedly, “He will shortly be ours.”

  “Yes, of course, dear,” I said with a falsely sweet smile. After a beat, I added, “He sleeps in the bed.”

  Edwin scowled. “He’ll sleep on the floor.”

  Annabel laughed. “Oh, dear. Did we strike a chord?”

  Winifred tucked a strand of her blond hair into her bonnet. “Don’t worry over it, Mary. For what it’s worth, my husband won’t let me keep my pets in the bed with us, either.”

  After handing the reins of the phaeton to a groom that had followed them, her husband strode up to the group with a baffled look. “Your pets are bees. Of course I won’t let them in bed with us! You don’t even want them there.”

  “Hush,” she hissed. “I’m trying to lift her spirits.”

  Bees? They must be related somehow to her husband’s botany.

  With a smile that I suspected to be forced, Edwin loudly interjected. “Would you like to walk down to the Serpentine with us?”

  Winifred beamed. “Of course! That sounds delightful. Petunia?”

  Her husband offered his arm with a pained smile. Annabel took her husband’s arm and the group began to walk. They crossed Rotten Row, heading between the trees toward the long lake transecting Hyde Park. No path aided their journey, but the Cravens didn’t seem to mind in the least. They delicately picked their way between the foliage. The men started up a conversation about the state of the trees and bushes this year that I was happy not to participate in. As the cultivated trees grew closer together, necessitating they pass in single file, the women found their way to my side as the gentlemen held tree branches aside for us to pass.

  As a meagre sliver of sunlight passed between the dappled shade of the trees to fall on my face, Annabel hesitated. She frowned. “Dear me, have you been hurt?”

  Edwin paused, holding Puck steady as he attended to my answer. What did he fear I’d say, that I’d chosen a battle with a brick wall?

  I managed a small smile. “I slipped and fell. Apparently powder doesn’t quite cover the result.”

  “Forgive me,” Annabel said hastily. “I didn’t mean to imply you looked bad. I was concerned for your health, is all.”

  “Thank you, but there’s no need to be concerned. It’s no more than a small bump.”

  “How did it happen?” Winifred asked.

  Edwin’s gaze was hot and unwavering as he stood stiffly to one side. Sensing his tension, Puck whined and pawed at his boot. Edwin paid the dog no mind.

  I answered, “It’s a dull tale, I’m afraid. I wasn’t watching my footing and fell into a wall. Shall we carry on?”

  “Oh yes, of course.”

  The set of Edwin’s shoulders relaxed. He continued his conversation with his botanist friends. We ladies continued to walk a few paces ahead.

  As the silence grew a bit strained, I turned to Annabel. “How has your painting been coming along?”

  She laughed delicately. “Oh, I haven’t touched a brush since our item. We should do it again sometime.”

  Did she enjoy such torture? It had been plain as day to me that I had lied about my painting prowess. Edwin hadn’t said a word about the botched watercolor I’d foisted on him, but thankfully I hadn’t spotted it hanging in his townhouse the way Jane had been apt to put it in ours. It was a hideous reminder that I possessed none of the traditionally feminine skills.

  Nevertheless, I forced a smile and said, “That would be lovely.”

  One more week, I reminded myself. After I rescinded my engagement with Edwin, the Missuses Craven wouldn’t deign to speak with me, let alone drag me along on agonizing outings.

  Winifred touched her bonnet, looking a bit guilty. “Had I known that we would meet with you here, I would have worn the bonnet you helped me trim. And a different dress, of course. It doesn’t match this one at all.”

  I highly doubted that she owned a dress ugly enough to match the newly decorated bonnet.

  “Of course,” I murmured, not certain what else to say.

  What would I say to Rose? She was perhaps one of the most ladylike women I knew, and a close friend of mine. Granted, I might never have become friends with her were it not for Francine, who had more in common with the Craven brothers than she did with their wives. On a normal day, I had deeper conversations with the servants than the hosts at a soiree. I didn’t care for feminine frippery; I cared more for making a difference in the lives of those who needed it.

  Puck’s bark shattered the air as he spotted an animal. He lunged on the leash, nearly knocking over Annabel before Edwin, who had slackened his hold during the course of his conversation, caught the lead and reined in the dog. A frightened yowl drew my attention to a skinny kitten as it madly clawed its way up a tree trunk and into the safety of the branches. Puck continued to bark madly. Jaw clenched, Edwin tried to lead the dog past the tree. Instead, Puck planted his paws on the bark as if he meant to climb it in pursuit. Fortunately for the cat, Puck didn’t possess half the skills needed to climb.

  “Mary,” Edwin said between Puck’s baying. “Your assistance?”

  I nodded and toed off my slippers, following suit with my smooth stockings. “Quite right. Guide Puck away and I’ll fetch the kitten.” Climbing in skirts was near impossible, so I quickly gathered the fabric around my legs and tied it off, girding my loins.

  As I stepped forward, Edwin wrestled with the lead to pull Puck away from the trunk. “That isn’t what I meant. Leave the cat.”

  I craned my neck back to find the frightened animal. The small feline shivered about ten feet off the ground, its fur sticking up on end. It mewled as it caught my gaze. “I think she’s stuck. It’s Puck’s fault she’s up there.” I reached for the nearest branch and braced my bare foot against the rough tree trunk.

  “Mary—”

  I started to climb.

  Edwin swore, urgency tinging his voice. “Mary, get down now. Leave the cat to fend for itself.”

  I ignored him. As I reached eight feet off the ground, my foot slipped. I slammed against the trunk, dangling from the creaking branch over my head. It was sturdy enough to hold my weight, but the kitten got frightened and scrambled up the trunk another three feet. I cursed under my breath and groped for a better foothold.

  “Mary!”

  I swung onto the branch above me. This would only take a moment more. Shakily, I straightened to my feet, my knees wobbling. Below, Edwin cursed the air blue.

  “Hold on to the bloody branch, you’re going to break your neck!”

  The blood rushed in my ears, distancing me from the sound of his voice. Heart pounding, I reached up to gently detach the kitten’s claws from the bark. She hissed at first, but as I approached slowly and spoke low reassurances, she soon gentled enough for me to lift her into my arms.

  “There you are. You’re safe now. Let’s get you down.”

  As I started to lower myself onto the branch again, my foot slipped. I shrieked as I toppled backward. The cat’s claws dug into my chest and shoulder where I cradled her. I caught myself by the crook of my elbow over the branch. My ears rang, my arm aching from supporting my full weight at such an awkward angle.

  A moment later, Edwin’s warm arm wrapped around my dangling legs. “Let go. I’ve got you.”

  “I can’t. I’ll crush the cat. Take her first.” Wincing, I tried to detach the feline one-handed. Her claws dug into my skin.

  “Put the cat back on the branch before you hurt yourself.”

  “No. Take her.” Puck barked as if supporting that idea.

  I managed to curl my fingers beneath her belly and pry her loose. I handed her down, hoping Edwin would take her despite his prot
ests. His arm loosened around my legs as he accepted the cat and passed her on to someone else.

  “Now you.”

  I almost suggested I climb down under my own power, but the jolt of pain in the arm wrapped around the branch when I flexed it convinced me otherwise. I swallowed hard. “Are you certain you’ll be able to catch me?”

  “Mary, that kitten weighs more than you do. I won’t let you fall.”

  Let go. Trust him. The muscles in my arm seized. It was harder to do than I thought. With a deep breath, I let my arm go limp and fell.

  The arm around my legs tightened. If I’d expected to be caught gracefully, I was in for a rude awakening as my stomach collided with his shoulder. The breath gushed from between my lips in a grunt. I stared at the back of his coat. He swung me to my feet a moment later. They didn’t want to hold me, but he was too busy examining me to notice my unsteady legs.

  “You’re hurt.”

  I peered at my hands and legs. “Scrapes. Nothing serious.” Locking my knees, I reached for my discarded stockings.

  “We need to clean the cuts before they fester.”

  “They’re scrapes, Edwin—”

  When I glanced into his face, I didn’t bother arguing further. He looked as inviting as a pit of broken glass. The cuts on my palms and legs stung as I forced my legs back into my stockings. I shoved my feet into my slippers as I undid the knot in my skirt. Edwin helped me drape it to hide my legs once more.

  “Very well,” I answered, my voice tight, “but we’re taking the kitten with us. She needs a home.”

  Annabel, now holding the kitten just low enough for Puck—held by one of the Craven brothers—to sniff, glanced up. “Huck and I can take her. We could use a mouser, couldn’t we, darling?”

  He hadn’t taken control of the dog, it seemed, for the Craven brother with free hands stepped up next to her with a raised eyebrow. “I suppose…are you certain the cat is female?”

  “Oh.” She straightened.

  The kitten gave Puck a parting whack on the nose, not that he appeared to take offense.

  “I should check.” Without preamble, she lifted the cat’s tail to peer between the hind legs. “Actually, I think it’s male.”

  Her husband smirked. “You think?”

  With a look of irritation, she passed the animal on to him. “Very well, Lord of All Things Male, what do you think?”

  He tipped the kitten over and nodded. “Definitely male.”

  Annabel smiled. “Then it’s settled. We’ll take him.”

  “Wonderful,” Edwin barked. He collected Puck from the Cravens and led the disappointed dog away from the group. “I hope you don’t mind if we cut this excursion short.”

  “Of course not,” Winifred answered, though her sunny smile wavered a bit. “We understand. We’ll meet again another time.”

  Edwin turned to me. “Can you walk?”

  I scowled at him. “I didn’t take a bullet. Of course I can walk!”

  “Good. Then walk.” He clamped his free hand around my elbow and steered me the way we’d come, toward Rotten Row.

  As we left the Cravens behind, their conversation drifted.

  In a worried voice, Winifred didn’t whisper quite as low as she likely hoped. “If she makes a habit of climbing, perhaps she slipped and fell out of a tree.”

  “That sounds likely,” answered Annabel.

  “I’d been afraid at first that he might have hurt her.”

  “Our Sutton? For shame!”

  “You don’t know what people are capable of sometimes, and he’s never brought a woman ’round before her…”

  One of the men interrupted. “I’d like to think we are better judges of character than that. Clearly, she isn’t too concerned for her safety. Let’s leave it at that.”

  With every word, Edwin seemed to grow more and more stiff. He never dropped his hand from my elbow, even when he had to rein in Puck in order for us to squeeze between the trees one at a time. The dog seemed sensitive to his mood, abnormally quiet and obedient with his ears pulled back against his skull. The moment we stepped out of earshot, Edwin steered us beneath the shade of an oak tree, out of sight of the Cravens and Rotten Row.

  “What do you think you were doing?”

  Bracing myself for a lecture on my unladylike behavior, I shrugged out of his hold. “I was doing something more important than talking about lace or ribbon.” Not that either of the Craven wives had tried to speak to me about such feminine frippery, but I foresaw us exhausting all other polite topics sooner rather than later.

  “You could have broken your neck.”

  At Edwin’s low, ominous tone, Puck’s hackles rose. He growled low in his throat, turning to stand beside me and face Edwin. I put a hand on his haunches, trying to reassure him. Edwin would never hurt me. Even if his tone was less than cordial.

  “I climbed a tree. I used to do it all the time if you’ll recall.”

  “I recall,” he said darkly.

  Puck yipped, startling Edwin.

  Loosening his posture, he added in a terse but gentler tone, “I also recall the bones you broke.”

  “I broke my arm once. I landed wrong.”

  “And you might have done so again!”

  Puck barked.

  Edwin pointed to the ground. “Sit. Hush.”

  I snatched the leash from his hand. “Give that here. He isn’t your dog. He’s mine, and he’s mine to command.”

  “Then you keep him in line,” Edwin snapped. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation. Meanwhile, you don’t seem to recognize or care a whit for the kind of danger you put yourself in.” He gestured to his face. “Have you learned nothing?”

  I climbed a tree. It wasn’t as though I’d jumped off the top of the Tower of London!

  “This,” I gestured to my bruises, “was an unforeseen accident. That—” I flung my hand toward the way we’d come. “—is what I do. I help people. I’m not a dolt, Edwin. I can make decisions for myself and I had things perfectly well in hand.”

  “Oh, yes, you seemed to have the situation well-handled when you nearly plummeted to the ground!”

  “I was only eight feet up. I would have survived!”

  “This time.” His eyes snapped, full of fury.

  Was this what I could look forward to enduring for the next seven days? The morning had begun with such promise. I should have known better than to think happiness like that would last more than a few hours.

  “What about next time, Mary?”

  “Maybe you should trust me to have a lick of sense!”

  Puck whined. He shrunk back, looking from Edwin to me and back again, uncertain. His ears clung to his skull, flattened, and his tail was wedged between his legs.

  Edwin bristled. “Why should I, when you clearly didn’t demonstrate sense today? You leaped to follow your first impulse without thinking of the consequences or stopping to ask yourself if there might have been a better way.”

  I shook my head, backing up a pace. “I don’t need you to tell me what I can or cannot do, Edwin. We aren’t married. You don’t own me.”

  “I don’t mean to imply—”

  Fuming, I turned and walked away. Last night, he’d seemed to accept and cherish me for who I was. This morning? It was as though our night together had never happened. Perhaps it was momentary insanity and I’d been a fool to think it might have been more.

  “Mary, where are you going?” His footsteps crunched on a stray twig as he followed.

  “I don’t need to listen to this from you. I’m going home. Alone.” I paused to peer over my shoulder. “Or is that too dangerous for a delicate flower like me?”

  His mouth twisted in distaste. “If you don’t want to consider your health, so be it. I won’t either. My life was simpler before you stepped back into it.” Shoving his hands roughly into the pockets of his jacket, he turned his back.

  Puck whined as he walked away.

  Chapter Twelve

  W
as I still engaged? After an afternoon spent fuming and a day without hearing from Edwin at all, I wasn’t certain. Had I lost this wager—had I lost him?

  I flipped through the pages of the contract once more. Not once did it state provisions for if the two parties of the contract happened to be at odds. Climbing the tree two days ago might have exposed my unladylike sensibilities, but in no way did it violate the terms of our agreement. I hadn’t shouted my hatred for him before shimmying up the trunk. For all intents and purposes, I had still played the loving fiancée, albeit an unconventional one. Upon examination of the terms, I’d half expected to find some previously overlooked phrase that insisted I play the delicate flower at all times. There wasn’t one.

  The weight of pretending to be a classically educated, gently bred debutante was smothering. I had no interest in playing the pianoforte or working on embroidery. I was more comfortable in breeches than in skirts, though Edwin was the only member of his friends who knew as much. The others thought me the kind of bonnet-trimming, watercolor enthusiast who emerged from a special girl’s school as a graceful swan. The thought of pretending to be that swan for another day—let alone another five—was nauseating.

  Besides, swans might look pretty, but they were vicious creatures beneath that graceful exterior.

  I stared at the contract in my hands. Five days. I only had to endure five more days of this agony before I could cry off from this farce of an engagement and be myself again. I’d have funds, a purpose. I wouldn’t be reliant on anyone. Wasn’t that what I’d been hoping for my entire life? Granted, I had thought I’d have my friends by my side when it happened, but… I’d have my animals. Animals were more loyal, anyway. They didn’t find mates or jobs and leave me.

  I sighed and tucked the contract safely into the drawer once more. I hadn’t cried off, but I’d left this engagement on shaky ground. I had to visit Edwin to see if we might have a chance of salvaging this arrangement, after all.

  Luck was on my side as I marched into the informal dining room in Edwin’s townhouse. The squat room barely had space to house a square table and sideboard, let alone the broad-shouldered lord hunched over a plate of eggs, bacon, capers, and toast. Dressed in black-and-gold livery, Isaac hovered over Edwin with a determined expression sharpened by the length of his nose. As the heels of my shoes clicked on the gleaming wood floor, Edwin pushed back in his chair with a sigh. He dabbed at his mouth with a napkin, then hurled it onto the table beside his plate.