Page 14 of A Lady Never Tells
Eden closed her eyes and took a deep breath. This shouldn’t surprise her at all. They were all talking about what her foolish husband had done. It didn’t matter that he’d paid a dear price for his actions—his life. That wasn’t enough for the ladies of the ton. They had to malign Eden and Roslyn as well. Blast them all to hell… “Have you heard them gossiping about you?”
“Yes,” Roslyn admitted. “None of it has been favorable.”
“It’ll be different at Wyndam Castle,” she said vehemently. Eden would ensure it and enlist Claudine in helping as well. “They wouldn’t dare speak ill of you at our friend’s home.” If they did, they would be asked to leave. She would bet everything on that fact. Claudine had no patience for idiocy.
“I hope so,” Roslyn said. “But I do not expect no one will gossip about me either. They won’t always be around our hostess, will they? Some might speak in ill terms in the privacy of their assigned bedchambers. We cannot control everyone’s tongue.”
“You’re correct, of course,” Eden conceded. “But we can curb it as much as possible.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. A few moments ago she had wished for something else to occupy her mind with. She should have been careful of what she’d hoped for. This was a problem she should have foreseen. It was equally as compelling as her fascination with the Duke of Carrington… “Either way, we have to forge ahead. There is a gentleman out there that will look past your brother’s actions. You didn’t even know what he was doing and shouldn’t be held to the same light as him. It’s ridiculous that the ton would even consider you not worthy of society because of his foolishness.” Sometimes Eden hated her deceased husband. She’d never say that aloud, though. She had no desire to be judged for her anger. Justified or not…
“It is ridiculous,” Roslyn conceded. “But there is no changing any of it. You’re right. We have to do our best to move forward with our lives.” She placed a hand on Eden’s arm. “It is all right for you to do the same. You do know that, right?”
“Move forward?” She glanced over to meet Roslyn’s gaze. “I like to think I do that every day.” She had done some things she never would have considered before. Like having a one-night affair with a certain duke…
“Not just that.” Roslyn tilted her head to the side. “I mean, find a gentleman you could love… Consider marrying again.”
Eden shook her head. “I don’t wish for that. One marriage was enough for me.” She didn’t know if she could ever trust a man with her life again. If she wed, she’d become that man’s property and have no say in her life. It wasn’t just a matter of love. She didn’t know what love actually felt like. Eden hadn’t loved her husband. It had been an arranged marriage. Trust was the actual issue, no matter how she looked at it. She couldn’t imagine allowing herself to have that kind of faith ever again.
“That’s sad,” Roslyn told her. “and depressing. I know you didn’t have a grand love match with my brother. Don’t you think it is time to have that?” She held up her hand when Eden started to speak. “No, let me say my piece. You don’t have to marry again. If you can’t find it in yourself to trust a man again, I understand that. But love… It’s an unfamiliar emotion. Find a man you can give your heart to and have a grand affair. One that you can look back on for many years with fondness—that doesn’t require you to say any vows before a man of god. You’re a widow and have more freedom. Use that to your advantage.”
Hadn’t she already done that? She didn’t love the duke, but she had one night in his arms. One night he didn’t remember…or rather didn’t recall it was her. He might not have any issues remembering the actual night, just the woman he spent it with. She had to admit it bothered her a little that he didn’t seem to recall her at all. “I’ll consider it.” She said in a quiet tone. “That’s all I can promise.”
“Good,” Roslyn said. “I want you to have happiness.”
“You deserve that too,” Eden told her. She turned to glance out the window again. What did true happiness feel like? There was so much she didn’t have in her life. Roslyn was right. She should know more about love before she tossed the idea of it aside. “Look,” she said as she gestured out the window. “The castle is just over that hill.” Thank heavens… She wanted out of the bloody carriage and away from Roslyn’s prying gaze.
Maxwell didn’t think he would ever make it to Wyndam Castle. He hated extended carriage rides. He wished he’d had the foresight to ride instead of traveling in his carriage, but that wouldn’t have been prudent. His stay at Wyndam Castle was going to be lengthy, and he’d need his trunks. Yes, he could have sent them in the carriage without him, but he hadn’t thought of that. There was no going back now, regardless. He was on his path, and he had a traveling companions with him.
“Glaring out the window will not make the carriage go any faster,” Crawford drawled. “In fact, I’d wager it will make the journey even more unbearable.” Max would not take his irritation out on his friend. Though it sounded like an excellent notion when the marquess was being a right arse.
“I am not glaring at anything,” he said in a petulant tone. He sounded like a spoiled child. Hell. They had to get to the damn castle soon.
“Of course not,” Lyonsdale said, then barely suppressed a laugh. Max was not stupid. The earl was amused with him. Maybe he could take his irritation out on the two of them. They didn’t seem to care that they were making his mood darker by the second. “You’re aglow with joy. It’s clear to anyone that takes a moment to glance upon your fair visage.”
Max turned to face the earl and nearly growled, “Be careful or it will be your fair visage that glows…” He paused briefly, then added, “Red, mixed with a little blue and purple. You know, after my fists bounce off of it a few times.”
“You are in a mood,” Crawford said in a low tone. “Why?”
He understood their confusion. Max had been unable to control his frustration for days. Ever since his dance with a certain countess at that last ball he’d attended. He needed to see her again. She was the only reason he had decided to attend this house party. He knew she would be there. Her friendship with the bride, and her role as a chaperone, would dictate that. If not for his need for her, he’d stay home. Max hated that he’d be away from Sarah for so long. At least he had a governess settled in with her. She would be well taken care of by his servants, the nanny, and the governess. “I’ll be fine once we’re able to depart from this carriage.” When he could lay his gaze upon the woman that was haunting his dreams… “and not have to get back inside for days.”
“I can understand your need to stretch your legs,” Lyonsdale responded. “We shouldn’t be confined to the carriage much longer. It’s been a while since I’ve been this far outside of London myself. I don’t particularly like visiting my family estate.”
“Touché,” Crawford said. “We all have our crosses to bear.” He sighed. “Is that all it is?” He met Max’s gaze. “You’re feeling some pent up frustration after being confined here with us?” He leaned forward. “Or is there something more pressing brewing here?”
“Such as?” Max lifted a brow. They couldn’t know that he was nearly obsessed with a young widow. No one knew. He hadn’t said one word to anyone, and if he had, these two would have been top on his list to unburden himself.
“It’s been rumored you’re in search of a wife,” Lyonsdale said. The words were like a dinner bell going off in the silence. No one spoke for several seconds, as if they were waiting for Max to erupt with madness. They would wait for a long time for that to happen. He wouldn’t give them any reason to think he’d lost his mind. At least no more than usual…
“I am,” he said in a calm tone. “That should not surprise either of you. I have different responsibilities now.”
“Sarah,” Crawford said. There was nothing else to add. “You think she needs a mother, then?”
“You don’t?” Max tilted his head to the side. “She’s had enough grief in her young life. I don’t want her to feel any other burdens.” And he didn’t know what kind of father type he’d be for her. She needed someone that she could always be depended on. He wanted to believe he could be that person for her, but on the chance he couldn’t… Max needed a wife.
“I admire you and your fortitude,” Lyonsdale began. “But I don’t envy you. We are here for you.” He nodded at Crawford. “It’s why we decided to attend this house party. Though we do consider Wyndam a friend, it’s you we’re really enduring this possible parson’s trap for.”
“You’re all heart,” Max said drolly. “Whatever would I do without friends like you?”
“It’s true,” Crawford said. “You’re lucky to have us.”
