Page 22 of The Marquess' Wicked Wager
Albert pulled her in close, seemingly quite the natural, his hand resting against her back. That dratted hand again on her dratted back. And again, it made her legs fall from under her; it ordered sparks of lightning to fly up and down her arms. She knew ladies were creatures of sentiment—she knew of it before she knew the wordmama—but frankly, she had thought most women actresses. Surely, there was not so terrible a need for their hearts to be safeguarded. Surely, a man could not make a lady want to faint, to give up her purity. It didn’t make sense.
Or ithadn’tuntil now because Edna most certainly wanted to give up her purity. She wanted to fall, most of all, into his arms. She could smell him for how close they were, and he smelled warm and inviting. A little like cocoa and port, too. She looked up toward him, seeking purchase in his deep green of his eyes which were a little upturned in amusement until at last the music sounded. And they were off.
“I’m glad to see you have survived the evening thus far,” she heard from above her as they drifted in time with the musicians. He spoke low so as to not be heard by their audience, but his breath was hot on her ear, and Edna felt her chest squeeze.
“Survived, perhaps,” she countered, still staring into his green, gleaming gaze, “But I feel as though I’ve been driven over by a carriage—and the horses too.”
“I could not imagine such demure ladies being quite so insatiable for gossip.”
“Then you do not know women. They have been on tenterhooks all evening. I only thank the Lord for Violet,” she hummed. She took a moment to look out over the crowd, thankful that a few other couples had joined in.
Edna looked to her father, who was standing by the fireplace. He looked positively grief-stricken as he watched her dance, his mustache somehow turning down with his smile. Never before had Edna felt quite so much like a disappointment—for therewasdisappointment in his gaze—and she began to feel quite dizzy.
“What is it?” she heard Albert ask, and he pulled her in a little tighter. “What are you looking at?”
“It’s nothing,” she lied, not trusting him enough to reveal her shame. Somehow it made her feel even guiltier. She tripped over the blasted hem of her dress but righted herself.
Albert sighed, and the note of it was in tune with the music. “If we are to make it through ourbetrothal, we must be honest with one another.”
“All right,” Edna admitted. “My father is not happy that I have supposedly chosen to wedyouand not the Duke, and frankly, it has broken my heart in two.”
Albert seemed to sour as he twirled her once and then again but did not say anything more.
“You asked me to be honest with you,” Edna reminded him. “I have. If you are not comfortable with the female sentiment, then—”
“It’s nothing to do with that, silly Blue,” he admonished, and his hand dipped so low that Edna feared a scandal—fearedbut didn’t particularly care. Not when he was so close that she could reach up and lap at the skin of his neck. Not when a part of her wanted to be scandalized…
She flashed red at the thought. Clearly someone, or something, had possessed her. She was not herself. Clearing her throat, she asked, “Then what does it have to do with, pray tell?”
She brought it back up as he added, “Well, it’s not unease I feel, not about this at least. It is guilt.”
“But whatever are you guilty of?”
“I have been asking myself that my entire life,” he quipped, but Edna could sense the truth in it. Still, his smile was dazzling. “You must think of it like this—there is an equilibrium to these things, I believe. For every wrongdoing of yours, you tip the scale a little further toward your undoing. For every gift you bestow, toward your happiness.”
Edna furrowed her brow. “I do not think I understand.”
“Well, allow me to put in layman’s terms—a father gambled away his only daughter which is quite the wrongdoing indeed. One of the worst. In turn, the daughter deceives the father to protect herself which is not nearly as cruel.”
“So, by your reasoning, I should drop my feelings of culpability because his transgression is greater than mine?”
“I suppose. I would be lying if I said I had thought the theory to its term.”
Edna stilled for a moment, and it slowed their dance. “But life isn’t transactional.”
“No?”
“No,” she replied. “Unless that’s why you agreed to rescue me—to tip the scale back in your favor. In which case, I must ask—what have you done that requires so much repentance?”
Albert laughed. “I must say, I do think you’re the first women I’ve ever spoken philosophy over with. Are you always like this?”
“I am. Are you always deflective?”
“I am,” he said coolly as their song came to an end. “But not where it matters.”
“And does this matter? Do I?” Edna asked, although she regretted the question the moment it had slipped from her lips.
Albert only smiled, and it seemed genuine enough for his whole face to light up. “Another round with me, Miss Worthington?” he asked, tending his hand to her once more as the hall swelled with prospective dancers.
