“Hmmm, perhaps, but do you recall Lady Jersey’s weekend affair last year at Middleton? Of course, you must. It was when Holland made a gross fool of himself and took a dive into the goldfish pond.”
She knew what he was driving at; he saw it in her eyes. She knew. He went on. “The scenery, the names all changed. The incident—one and the same.”
“Yes, I remember,” she said in a small voice.
“I rather thought you did, my lady Felix,” he said softly, but he saw by the flash of fear in her eyes that he had hit home.
“Sir Edward … you don’t realize what you are saying. Do not attempt to slander me in this fashion …”
He lifted his brow as he put the nails to her coffin. “I don’t think it would be slander, love. You see, I have proof. I have a copy of the contract you signed with Murry. It was all very simple. Murry has a clerk, and clerks are sadly underpaid.”
Sixteen
MI
SS BRETTON GAZED at Sir Frederick for a moment. Something in the recesses of his vague blue eyes pulled at her heart. Something was wrong, and it had nothing to do with his injuries.
She had known for days that she was in love with him. She loved the mischief forever lurking about his smile, dancing around his words, and capturing her imagination. He had a gentleness of manner about him that always called to her, and she had been wondering what it would be like to be in his arms.
He had been for some moments flirting and teasing her, but she believed that she had grown to know his mind, and something was troubling him. She was sure of it.
She hoped he had meant it that he was going to apply to her aunt regarding a courtship, but he had suffered a head injury …
“Corry … of all women in the world, I trust you to take me at my word,” he said suddenly.
She was surprised by it. “Now what new business is this?”
“I tell you that there is heaven for me in your eyes, and you say ‘nonsense’.”
“It is a very pretty thing to say … but what does it really mean?” she responded, smiling softly at him.
He reached for her fingers and pulled her off the chair near his bed and onto the bed. “You are a treasure of wisdom, and I am a cad … a cad, I tell you.”
“Are you? I had not thought it,” she said, forcing herself not to giggle. “Do you mean to bring me low … ruin me … take advantage, and be on your way?”
“What?” he shot back, shocked. “May I be struck by lightning before ever I would do such a thing … no … that is not it.”
“What then, do you mean to take back your … er … sickbed proposal?” she teased, but her heart fluttered in her chest with dread.
“Stop … stop … never, but Corry … you know nothing about me,” he said desperately, one free hand raking his hair.
“What should I know? You are a complex man with a gentle, kind, and oddly mixed personality of contradictions. Very intriguing. You are charming, you are good fun and I—”
He cut her off. “I am not fit to look at your face, hear your sweet voice …” His voice was full of bitterness.
She saw how very distressed he was and put teasing aside. “Why, Freddy … what is all this?”
“Have you never heard about me—about the scandal I brought to my name?” he answered, looking away.
“I heard that you were involved in something that caused you a great deal of unhappiness and that you retired to your country home to weather the storm.” She smiled sweetly at him and touched his face.
He grabbed her hand with his good one, held it to his cheek, and kissed it feverishly. “I have no right to put you in this situation. The ravages of that scandal would haunt you as well if you became my wife.”
She moved away from the bed and sat quietly on the window seat. She didn’t want to look at him.
He became desperate and called out to her, “Corry, dearest love … look at me. Corry, please don’t turn your back on me … not yet.”
She turned and went to him. “It grieves me that you think so little of me that I would care what the silly beau monde thinks over my own good opinion. Do you not know me, Freddy?”