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?”
Everything hurt. He shook his head. “I don’t know anything of planning for futures. I always assumed…”
She raised an eyebrow.
“That whatever happened to me was going to be awful, no matter what I chose.”
She let out a long breath and looked about. And that was when Edward realized that they stood in her parents’ hall, surrounded by her father, her mother—good God, that man standing over there was the Duke of Clermont, and what he was doing here, Edward didn’t want to know.
Free let out a long breath. “Come. Walk with me.” She gestured.