The Suffragette Scandal (Brothers Sinister #4)(91)

“He’s in there.” Her mother gestured to the house with her head. “Claridge.”

Free’s hands turned cold.

“And I swear to God,” her mother continued in that low voice, “I did not raise my daughters to become some filthy lords’ playthings. I have no idea what happened, what hold he has over you, but if he’s done a damned thing to hurt you, he’ll pay. They can hang me. I—” She stopped, took a deep breath, and looked to her right.

Just as well that she’d stopped talking. The thought of someone stabbing Edward in the kidneys didn’t make Free feel any better.

But her mother was looking at the man standing next to Free. “Oh,” she continued, in an entirely different voice. “Your Grace. How…ah… How unexpected to see you.” She brushed at her skirts and grimaced.

What flitted through Free’s mind was nothing rational. She had nothing to say to comfort her mother. What occurred to her instead was this: What’s the difference between a lord and a bit of algae?

She’d never heard that particular joke. Still, she didn’t have any difficulty coming up with her own answer.

One of them’s a slippery, slimy, disgusting thing. The other is necessary to the proper functioning of freshwater ponds. It was deeply, impossibly inappropriate. She was fairly certain that this was proof that her tenuous hold on calm rationality was slipping from her grasp. Another five minutes, and she’d start staring off into space, laughing at nothing at all.

What’s the difference between a lord and a pile of horse manure? It was too easy. One of them smells terribly; the other, applied judiciously, increases the productivity of fields.

But then, she could have said the same thing about ladies. And now she was one.

Next to her, her mother and Robert were still talking. “You mustn’t talk that way,” the duke was saying. “I’ll do it, if it must be done. They’d have to go through the Lords to hang me, and there are extenuating circumstances. Such as the fact that Claridge is a lout. They’d never convict me. But…” He frowned. “No, sorry. Before I agree to commit a crime with witnesses present, I really ought to talk to Minnie. She’ll have a better idea.”

A smile touched her mother’s face. “You are a handy person to know. Would you…two…care to…”

Come in? Abscond? Free wasn’t certain what she wanted. She didn’t want them to kill Edward—even though they were probably joking. Robert was, at least; she wasn’t entirely sure about her mother. But she didn’t want to see him. She didn’t want him near almost as much as she wanted him close. She was afraid that if she caught sight of him, he’d charm her into compliance.

She drew a deep breath. “We can postpone Claridge’s inevitable demise,” she said. “At least until we’ve spoken with Minnie. And until I’ve…”

Behind her mother, Edward came into the hall. He caught sight of her and came to a halt.

Or maybe it was Free’s world that stopped instead. Her heart ceased to pound. Her breath ceased to circulate. Every atom of her being seemed to slow and come to a standstill.

What’s the difference between a lord and your husband?

None. There was no difference at all.

Chapter Twenty-Three

FREE STOOD ALL OF FIVE FEET from Edward, real and solid and safe. He’d spent the night worrying about her. She was separated from him now by a mere two paces on the one hand, and a gulf of lies on the other. Edward didn’t know if he could reach her if he tried.

“Free,” he said. “I’m sorry.”

Her eyes seemed an impenetrable wall. At least she didn’t turn on her heel and walk away.

“I’m dreadfully sorry,” he said. “I ruined everything, absolutely everything. What I did was unforgivable.”

She didn’t move.

“Inexcusable,” he kept on. “I know you’ll want nothing to do with me. Whatever it is you want—a sworn statement that I’ll not interfere with your business, a promise to keep my distance—whatever you want, Free. You can have it. I owe you that much.”

She opened her mouth once, closed it, shook her head, and then opened her mouth again. “Why did you do it?” she managed to get out. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you let me know?”

“Because I’m stupid,” he said. “And selfish. I should never have asked you to marry me.”

Free held up a hand. “That isn’t what I meant. You had to know I would find out—and find out soon. Why didn’t you tell me the truth before?”

“Because…” He frowned. “Because I knew you wouldn’t marry me. I wanted to make sure you’d be safe—and as I said—there was a hefty dose of selfishness involved.” He didn’t have any good reasons to offer her—just that feeling of sickness at heart, of panic at the thought of losing her, at what might happen to her if he didn’t have her…

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Free said. “I don’t know that I would have walked away if you’d told me the truth. How could you know I would?”

He swallowed. His heart beat a painful rhythm against his chest.

“You had to know there was no future in what you were doing,” she said. “So why did you do it that way? Wasn’t it worth the chance that I would say yes?”