Guilty Pleasures 0f A Bluestocking (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 10

  She had read countless love stories, countless tales of lovelorn heroes and heroines. Had found herself dreaming often of how it might feel to be so entwined with the man she loved. But this kiss was far better than she had ever dared imagine. She never wanted it to end.

  And at once, nothing else mattered. Not Lord Averton’s fear of her father, or his belief that they were not suited, or the fact that she had to creep around in the night to see him. She would do whatever she needed to do to make this work. Would do whatever she needed to do to spend her life with this gentleman. She knew it was the only thing that would ever make her happy.

  Chapter 16

  “Lord Averton.” The Viscount spat the name out as though it was sour on his tongue. “I think not, my dear.”

  It had been almost a month since Edith had begun to see Lord Averton in secret. Almost a month of escaping out of the house after dinner, almost a month of clandestine walks along the river. Almost a month of increasingly passionate kisses and whispered words of love.

  Edith had said no more to the Baron about calling at the manor, respecting—if not entirely understanding—his belief that he was not good enough to officially court the Viscount of Chilson’s daughter.

  But today she had gone to her father. Perhaps if she could persuade him to extend the invitation to the Baron himself, it might be the push Lord Averton needed to make their relationship official.

  But at the mention of the Baron’s name, Lord Chilson’s eyes had darkened. “He had his chance, Edith,” he said firmly, filling his pipe with tobacco and bringing it to his lips. “And he did not take it. I see no reason why I should extend such an offer to a gentleman who disrespects my daughter in such a way.”

  Edith longed to tell him that Lord Averton was anything but disrespectful. She longed to tell him that his change of heart had not been out of disrespect, but of the selfless belief that she deserved better than him.

  But of course, her father could never know any of it. He could never know that she and the Baron had been in contact.

  “I’m sure he had his reasons for not calling, Father,” Edith said instead, winding a stray strand of hair around her finger. “Very good reasons, I’m certain.”

  The Viscount huffed, a cloud of smoke escaping his lips. “If he had his reasons, he did not see fit to communicate them to me. And that is hardly fitting behavior for a gentleman who wishes to marry my daughter.”

  Though his attack on Lord Averton was scathing, Edith couldn’t bring herself to be angry with her father entirely. She knew his words came from a place of love. She could hear the affection hiding beneath his stern words.

  She stood close, clutching her father’s arm and looking up at him with wide green eyes. “Please, Father. Give him one more chance.” Pleading with him like this had always worked when she had been a child. But she had a feeling those days were long gone.

  The Viscount met her eyes. “Edith,” he said firmly, “you know I care for you dearly.”

  Her stomach sank. “Please, Father, just—”

  The Viscount gave her a stern look, commanding silence. Edith dropped her gaze to her knotted hands.

  “Lord Averton is simply not an appropriate husband for you,” her father said. “And that is the end of the matter.”

  Edith felt tears prick behind her eyes. “But—”

  “That’s enough.” The Viscount’s sharp voice made Edith swallow her protests. “I do not wish to hear another word on the matter.”

  * * *

  Edith and Deborah were walking together down the main street. The afternoon was hot and still, and the two of them were ambling slowly toward the seamstress’s. They had received word that the new gowns they had ordered the day Edith had met Lord Averton were ready for their final fittings.

  “Oh, I simply can’t wait to see my new gown,” Deborah said with a smile. “The color I chose is so beautiful. I can hardly believe I’m having such a divine gown made for me!”

  Edith gave her sister a small smile. She shared none of Deborah’s excitement. All the money their father was pouring into their beautiful gowns and expensive jewelry, she knew, was in an attempt to snare the finest husbands in the country.

  And as far as her father was concerned, the finest husband in the country was not the Baron of Averton. Never mind how much he cared for Edith.

  Deborah looked sideways at her. “Are you all right, Edith? Is something bothering you?”

  It was far from the first time Deborah had asked such a question. Edith didn’t speak at once. She knew her behavior had been unusual of late. She couldn’t blame her sister for her concern.

  Edith’s head and her heart, were a tangle of emotions. Fear of being caught sneaking from the manor. Grief, that she and Lord Averton might never have her father’s blessing. But beneath it was exhilaration and the joy of love. That wonderful ache she felt inside whenever she and the Baron were together.

  Edith glanced at Deborah.

  How I long to tell her. How I long to share this conflict that is in my heart.

  Being in love, Edith was coming to realize, was a thing that made you want to share.

  But there were so many reasons she couldn’t tell Deborah. Most pressingly, Edith knew doing so would put her sister in a difficult position. She knew she could not ask Deborah to keep such a thing a secret. Could not ask her to betray their father by keeping silent on the matter.

  And so she gave Deborah a thin smile and said, “Everything is quite all right, my dear. I just have a lot on my mind. I suppose I’m thinking about father’s plans to find me a husband.”

  Deborah sighed heavily. “I do wish you’d talk to me, Edith. I know you’re lying.”

  Edith felt a knot in her throat. She put her head down and quickened her pace.

  I wish I could talk to you, too, my dear sister. But believe me, this is for your own good.

  * * *

  Edith darted out of the house as darkness was falling over the manor grounds.

  She walked hurriedly toward the river, watching her feet as she walked.

  There had to be an end to this. This sneaking around could not last forever. The thrill of it had begun to wear off and all Edith longed for was to be with Lord Averton as his wife.

  She told him as much when she found him at the river that night. “I just wish there was a way we did not need to hide like this,” she sighed, her lips close to his.

  The Baron ran his fingers down her cheeks. “I wish that, too. But you know it can’t be. Your father has made it clear he will never accept me as your husband. He—” He stopped abruptly and looked over his shoulder.

  Edith stiffened. “What is it?”

  They stood motionless for a second.

  Is that the sound of footsteps in the undergrowth? Or am I just imagining things?

  Her breath was loud in her ears. Tonight, the burble of the river sounded like a roar. But there were no footsteps.

  The Baron swallowed heavily. “Perhaps you ought to leave, Miss Wilds.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to leave.”

  “I know. But…” He glanced over his shoulder again. “I don’t know if we’re alone.”

  Edith felt the muscles in her neck tighten. “Do you think someone has seen us?”

  They had been careful. They were always careful. She had begun to visit Lord Averton dressed in the colorless gowns of Annie’s. She kept the hood of her cloak pulled up over her head. Only lowered the cloak when she was sure they were well-hidden amongst the trees. But had she been naïve and foolish? Perhaps they were not as well-hidden as she had believed. What if one of her father’s acquaintances had seen her? What if word had gotten back to the Viscount of his daughter’s scandalous behavior?

  Edith pushed the thought away.

  No. If Father knew what I was doing, he would never have kept it to himself. He would have confronted me at once. Would have punished me for it.

  The thought was both unnerving and faintly comforting.


  Edith smiled at Lord Averton, but she could tell it looked as forced as it felt. “An animal in the trees, perhaps. There are plenty of foxes out here.”

  Lord Averton squeezed her hand. “You’d best go. We will see each other again soon.”

  She looked into his eyes. “Do you promise?”

  He pulled her close and held his lips firmly against hers. “Of course. You know I cannot get by without you.”

  Edith smiled against his lips. “I cannot get by without you, either.”

  Lord Averton gave her another light kiss. “Go.”

  Edith looked back over her shoulder as she pulled up her hood. “I’ll have Annie bring you a message. Tell you when I can next see you.”

  He gave her a short smile. “I’m looking forward to it already.”

  Edith pulled up her cloak and began to walk hurriedly, her eyes on the path. Though it was still summertime, the breeze was cold and the clouds were low. It felt oddly like the edge of winter.

  She glanced over her shoulder, the hair on the back of her neck prickling.

  Is someone there?

  Edith whirled around. She felt watched. Her eyes moved over the tangled trees on the riverbank, but she could see nothing.

  Just my imagination, surely.

  She began to walk again.

  No one was watching her, she told herself. If anyone had caught her doing as she had been, they would have confronted her by now.

  No one is watching. No one is watching….

  But the feeling was difficult to shake. There it was again, as she skirted the village, careful to keep clear of the main street. And again as she crept though the side gate back onto the manor grounds.

  Edith hurried upstairs and locked herself inside her bedchamber.

  No one is watching.

  Chapter 17

  Deborah put down the diary, her mind racing and the words swimming before her eyes. The light filtering through the gap in the curtains was brighter now. She could hear a parade of footsteps up and down the hallways. Could hear the distant clatter of plates and cutlery as the housemaids cleared the breakfast table.

  She had Sarah give her excuses to her mother and father. She couldn’t bear to face anyone while she was engulfed this way in Edith’s most private thoughts.

  Deborah wrapped the edge of the blanket tightly around her finger. She could hardly believe the things she was reading.

  How had all this happened to my sister, without me having any idea of it?

  Little wonder Edith had been so distracted in the months before her death.

  That secrecy that had engulfed her sister, Deborah remembered that well, too. At the time, she had tried to piece together possible reasons for Edith’s strange behavior. A secret love affair had not been one of them. Edith had always been such a fine person to look up to. She had always had such a deep love and respect for their father. Deborah couldn’t imagine her engaging in such scandalous behavior. But then, she had never imagined Edith might do something as terrible as ending her own life.

  Perhaps I did not truly know my sister at all.

  Footsteps sounded outside her bedchamber. Deborah looked up at a knock at the door.

  “Deborah? May I come in, my love?”

  At the sound of her mother’s voice, Deborah hurriedly shoved the diary under the bedclothes. A part of her longed to send the Viscountess away. But guilt prevented her from doing so.

  “Of course, Mother. Come in.”

  The door creaked as it opened. “Sarah tells me you are unwell.” The Viscountess’s face was lined with concern.

  Deborah forced a smile, drawing the blankets to her chin. “I just feel a little run down. It’s nothing to be concerned about, I’m sure. Perhaps a cold.”

  “It is the season for it.” The Viscountess perched on the edge of the bed.

  Deborah eyed the square shape beneath the blankets where the diary was hidden. Her mother was sitting far too close to it.

  “Is there anything you need?” she asked. “A cup of tea, perhaps? A little breakfast?”

  Deborah shook her head. The things she was learning of had stolen her appetite. She wanted no food, no tea. All she wanted was to return to reading. Discover what had happened between her sister and Lord Averton. “Just a little sleep,” she told her mother, feeling a pang of regret at the lie. “Perhaps I’ll come downstairs for some food once I’ve rested.”

  The Viscountess planted a kiss on Deborah’s forehead. “Very well, my love. You tell us if you need anything.”

  At last, her mother got to her feet and shuffled out of the bedchamber, closing the door behind her. Deborah waited for her footsteps to disappear back down the hall, then hurriedly pulled the diary back out from beneath the bed clothes.

  She flicked back through the pages to find the place she had finished reading. And a name on the page made her breath catch in her throat.

  The Duke of Tarsington.

  * * *

  “The Duke of Tarsington,” said the Viscount. “He has lands up and down the country. A fine manor house here in Bath. Wonderful connections.” He smiled, too broadly. “He will make you very happy, I’m sure.”

  Edith clenched her teeth. This was not about making her happy, she knew. It was about advancing this family’s prospects. Seeing them climb higher up the social ladder.

  Edith had known from a young age that this was her duty. She had never thought to question it. As a young girl, she had even welcomed the thought of one day marrying a handsome gentleman with lands up and down the country. Perhaps, if her father played the game well, becoming a marchioness, or even a duchess. But how petty all that seemed now. Becoming a duchess did not feel like a victory. The Duke of Tarsington did not feel like a prize. Marrying a gentleman she did not love felt like a punishment.

  It left a deep ache inside her. How could she walk down the aisle to any other man but Lord Averton? How could she wake every morning beside the Duke of Tarsington, all the while wishing he were someone else? And never mind the pain it would leave inside her, it would be far less than fair to the Duke for him to be wed to a lady whose heart was with another.

  I cannot marry him. I simply cannot.

  Edith decided to have one last try. “Father,” she said, giving him that pleading look she had used to get her way when she was a child, “I do not wish to marry the Duke of Tarsington. I wish to marry Lord Averton.” Her voice was clear and strong. “Please.” But her father’s eyes were unflinching.

  Her mother, who had been watching the exchange from the corner, glided across the parlor and pressed her hands to Edith’s shoulders. “Come on now, my dear. You know your father is right. This is an excellent match. The Duke of Tarsington is a very fine young gentleman.” She smiled knowingly at Edith. “Very handsome, too, I hear.”

  Edith looked down. In her eyes, no one would ever be as handsome as Lord Averton.

  “And you’re to be a Duchess,” her mother continued airily. “Can you imagine such a thing?” She smiled. “His Grace is apparently very excited to meet you.”

  Edith sighed heavily. So she was to become a duchess. What did such a thing matter? She knew that even if Lord Averton were the poorest man on Earth, she would follow him to the slums and still be happy waking up beside him.

  But she knew there was little point arguing. The decision had been made, and she felt utterly powerless to stop it.

  Her father met her eyes pointedly. “I hope you will be gracious to the Duke when he arrives tomorrow. I’m no fool, Edith. I know your thoughts are still on that rake, Lord Averton. But you need to put him from your mind at once.”

  Edith nodded obediently. Putting Lord Averton out of her mind, of course, was an impossibility. But what could she do but agree?

  She went up to her room and scrawled a hurried note, then sent Annie to the Averton manor at once.

  * * *

  Two hours later she was standing on the river bank, waiting for the Baron to arrive.

 
; The moment he appeared through the trees, tears spilled down Edith’s cheeks.

  He stumbled thorough the undergrowth toward her and pulled her into his arms. “What is it, my love? What has happened?”