Edward stared out the window of the rolling carriage, revisiting all the milliseconds that had added up, linked together like tiny soldiers of fate over the past twenty-four hours. Fractions of seconds where he could have made different choices. Minutes that had changed the course of multiple lives.
Hours that led up to him now, on a bumpy country road, traveling back to town after having ask a man for his daughters hand in marriage. All because of one incontrollable impulse. An impulse he did not regret in the least…
After having left the Printmose ball the previous evening, Edward had gone straight to his father’s townhouse and told him everything that had transpired. Better the duke hear it from his own lips. Plus, Edward knew he would need his help. His own name carried a fair share of weight, but his fathers could outright sink a ship.
By the time Edward had completed the story the sun was starting to rise and they were on their way to the Earl of Vistmont’s hunting lodge in the country.
The arrogant older man had greeted them with as much warmth as Edward had expected. Absolutely none. Which was why he had dragged his father along. The other earl might hear Edward out, but the chances that he would entertain his request were slim. Richard Kingston, advisor to The Queen, on the other hand... No man dared turn his father down.
Once they had been admitted into the small hunting cabin, Richard had simply lined up the facts: Edward desired Lady Sinclair’s hand. And, the joining of the families would be beneficial to the earl’s dwindling pocketbooks.
Lord Vistmont, unable to deny his compulsion for the tracks and his inaptitude for winning, had considered the offerings with as much possible denial as a man in his situation could. It was common knowledge among the Bon Ton that the earl’s bank accounts were dwindling. Aligning himself with the Kingston’s would be an advantageous move.
Having the stain on his good name—that came from Edward compromising his dear daughter—was far too insulting, the earl explained. All the time looking down the bridge of his nose, disdainfully. The ruining of the girl was a slight that could only be corrected with coin. Or, in this case, the lack there of. There would be no dowry.
Edward ground his teeth together so hard that he wondered if a few had cracked. His father’s quickly raised hand halted him from voicing exactly what he thought of the smug bastard, and his feigned love for his dear daughter. The duke, aware that his son was a scant breath shy of killing his future father-in-law agreed that, under the circumstances, the dowry could be waved.
Edward did not care about the traditional bridal offering in the least. He had more than enough income and could provide, ten times over, what the Earl of Vistmont did for Lady Sinclair. Two fucking dresses!
Nevertheless, Edward thought Lady Sinclair might have a care in the matter. Since it was quite likely that her dowry would have been passed down from her biological father, not the abusive earl. Now, the only material wealth she possessed would be left in the slimy hands of her stepfather and stepbrother. They deserved nothing!
While Edward mulled over various ways he would like to see the earl and his whelp meet their demise, papers were drawn up and he and his father were sent on their way back to London before the noon sun had even began to warm the sky.
“You know that whatever her dowry would have amounted to, it was not worth the fight. He would have only doubled down and just refused you,” his father said, judicially, from across the rocking carriage. “And, is that not the reason for this trip? To save Lady Sinclair from her tormentors.”
Edward had not spoken more than two words since exiting Vistmont’s hunting lodge. He knew his father had been more than patient, allowing him to brood in insufferable silence. Apparently, that allotted time of loathsome introspection was at an end.
“Yes. Saving.” Edward continued to stare out the window. “That is what she needs.”
“Indeed.” Richard concurred, dangerously agreeable.
The wheels rolled on, beating a familiar cadence in the absence of conversation.
“Oh come on!” Edward rotated in his seat, to take his father head on. “Out with it. I know you have your opinions.”
The graceful line of the duke’s mouth tightened a bit, but he did not say anything. Instead he swiveled his head and stared off into the distance, amused at nothing in particular.
“Father?”
Richard turned his gaze back to him. “Son?”
Edward felt a muscle in his neck hop, the man was not going to make this easy. “Listen, I know this is not what you had in mind when you suggested I take a wife.”
Richard folded his long fingers together in his lap. “Is it not?”
Edward threw his weight back into his seat, exasperated. “Can we not do this?” He waved a hand “This…evasive dialogue.”
A gleam lit in his father’s eyes. “What would you like me to say, Edward?”
“Damn if I know.” Edward let his hand fall to his knee, loudly. “Tell me what a tragic mistake this is. Remind me how much better Perkin would have handled the situation. Give me advice on what to do next.”
His father studied him, his expression unreadable. “You were never an easy child,” Richard finally said. “You were headstrong, impulsive, willful to a fault, and a dreadful student. You were unpredictable and easily roused. There were days that I thought you had been born simply to test me.”
His father paused. “But you were always consistent. You never let others impress upon you their will. You have always taken your own road. Albeit, a path you do not always give considerable thought to.” He smiled gently. “But, a direction in which very few men can say they have earnestly traveled.”
Edward waited, sure there was at least a few more considerable faults he could handle hearing. He had asked for this after all.
“The path of integrity,” his father said without preamble. “There is not another man alive that I can say that about.”
The duke stared at him, his grey eyes, both hard and soft at the same time. “You will never make a truly wrong move, my boy. Not when you have that sort of grace on your side.”
Edward was speechless. His father was not a man to hand out praise, nor was he a man to sugar-coat his words. Richard Kingston was an upstanding pillar of the community, generous friend, devoted father, diligent businessman, and a sound advisor.
But above all, the duke was a man of honor. Hearing his father say what he had… Edward cut his eyes to the seat cushions.
“You are correct,” Richard continued. “This is not at all how I envisioned your future. I could have better predicted the fall of Rome.” He chuckled. “But I would not have it any other way than the how events lined up for you on that balcony last night.”
Edward scoffed. “Embarrassingly?”
He could feel his father’s gaze on his downcast face. Edward looked up slowly.
“Galant.” The duke’s eyes had grown glassy. “You have never made me more proud.”
“Well,” Edward said, deflecting his rising emotions. “You have always had a healthy sense of humor.”
They both laughed at that.
“Now.” Richard leaned forward. “Tell me more about my new daughter. She is certainly a beauty.”
“You will approve.” Edward nodded, smiling as he considered Morgan for a few beats of the carriage’s rhythmic rolling. “She is rather…” He met his father’s inquisitive eyes again when he landed of the right description. “Consuming.”
“Ah, so you cannot get her out of your head?” His father sat back and crossed his arms.
“That is putting it mildly.” Edward sighed. “She is quite the enigma. Stunning beyond measure, fun-loving and inquisitive. Yet, she also has a rather astute and reserved side. And, she has no difficulty putting me in my place. Something I am not entirely sure I admire.” He grinned.
“She sounds like your perfect match,” the duke said after a moment. “You need someone with spirit. Someone who will challenge you, but also steady you. This young lady appears to do both. I cannot wait to formally welcome her into the family. I only wish Perkin and Greyland could make it. But on short notice, and with your brother away right now,” his father’s voice trailed off.
Edward knew there was more to his brother’s last-minute trip to France than his father was letting on, and that worried him. He was just about press the subject when their driver started shouting franticly. Edward craned his head toward the window just as the rig lurched to the side and then jerked back abruptly. Both he and his father were sent crashing into the right side of the carriage as it tipped precariously and then slammed back down to the ground.
Edward and his father stared, braced against their seats, assessing one another. “Is anything broken?” Richard asked.
Edward’s shook his head, his eyes going to a trickle of blood on his father’s forehead. “I am fine.” The duke waved him off. “Check your driver.”
Edward scrambled out to find Hornsby rounding the rig. “My lord,” the driver huffed. “Twas a runaway carriage.” He pointed down the lane.
Edward whirled, just in time to see a speeding black carriage effortlessly round the sharp bend in the road. The only identifiable markings he could catch, before the rig disappeared, was what looked to be an embossed crest on the door: hounds on the hunt.
His father alit from the door, a handkerchief pressed to his hairline, doubt evident in his voice. “A runaway carriage, huh?”
“One that managed that turn.” Edward scowled in the direction of the roads curve. “Without any effort at all.” He turned and marched to the front of the rig to check the horses.
They were wide-eyed from the fright but seemingly hale. Edward cooed soothing praise as he ran his hands over their legs, checking for swelling, from hock to hoof. Other than a scrape on the front left fetlock of the bay gelding, they were unscathed.
He returned to where his father and Hornsby stood, analyzing the carriage. “How is your head?”
His father brought the cloth down. He had a nasty cut but nothing fatal. “It will be fine. But I dare say, we will not be making it back to town today.” He inclined his head towards one of the back wheels.
The driver looked up from his hunched inspection and confirmed the problem. “It’s cracked, my lord. There is a village just a ways up the road.”
Edward nodded wordlessly and moved to unharness the horses. Within a few minutes, they were walking toward the town. Edward recalled a tavern and lodge called the Wild Hare; they could stable the horses and wait there for the wheel to be repaired. He decide now was a good time to tell his father about the other attempt made on his life this past week. The one that did not involve him getting shot, or run off the road.
“Someone wants me dead.” Perhaps not the lengthiest story, but the most direct.
His father looked over at him as they walked.
“A few days ago, prior to a ride, I gave Elkinemia’s saddle a once over,” Edward elaborated. “The girth strap had been slit and loosely stitched back up.” He could see his father’s brows rise out of his peripheral as they continued down the dirt road. “Stitched back together well enough that it would likely go unnoticed by the groom, which it did, but would break the moment the horse was moved into a canter.”
“Are you sure the groom did not know?” Richard asked.
“The boy is green, but loyal.”
They walked on in silence. “You should have told me sooner.” His father finally stated.
“There was nothing you could have done about it and I still do not know who it is.”
“There is always something I can do!” Richard snapped, causing Edward to stop short. His father seldom lost his temper. “You take too much on by yourself, Edward.”
“I am a grown man, father. Fully capable of managing my own life’s assassination attempts.”
The duke whirled on him. “This is not a joke, damn it!”
Edward bristled. “I am well aware.”
His father motioned Honrsby on with a curt nod of his head. The driver, clearly relieved to be dismissed from the two feuding lords, led the horses on ahead.
“Are you?” His father countered. “Are you aware that there is more to your life than just you?”
“Yes, well, I am not a man born to selflessness.”
“Cultivate it!” The duke turned on his heels and strode away.