And the plan she would begin this evening, if this creature would only leave her in peace.
“I do hope that you will begin to show yourself in Society, Lady Edith,” Sir Reginald told her as he pushed his wiry frame to his feet. “It would be a shame for you to be so confined as to be without friends or connections.”
Edith found herself flinching at the edge to his tone, the sneer she could hear as well as see. She wasn’t without friends or connections, but for her present situation, she might as well have been. Sir Reginald controlled everything in her life but her friends, and if he knew who her friends were or what their connections were, he would have found a way to intervene.
To ruin it all.
He had done it before.
She managed to contain her disgust long enough for Sir Reginald to bow and leave the tatty drawing room, not even waiting for her to rise and bid him farewell, as he usually expected her to do. When he had gone, Edith sank back against the couch and covered her face, her hands trembling slightly.
“I’d off him if ye’d let me, mistress.”
Edith exhaled a laugh and glanced over at the large, hulking Scot in the doorway. “I’d let ye, if we wouldna have to flee from the law.”
“We?” Owen raised a brow at her, folding his arms. “There’d be no need to include yerself in the affair, mistress. I’d desert my post at yer side and take matters into my own hands, leaving you innocent as a wee babe.”
“Well, that would hardly do for me,” Edith informed him, sitting forward with a sad smile. “I’d be lost without you, Owen, so this entire conversation is moot.”
Owen grunted softly. “If only himself were moot.”
Edith smirked at the wry comment. That undoubtedly would have cleared things up for her, if not several other people, as well.
Her late husband’s cousin was the heir to all holdings, though the only one of real value was the estate in Hertfordshire. Reginald possessed all the same narcissism and arrogance that Archie had been known for, but without any hope of the same charm, and he was hellbent on claiming every advantage the legacy had to offer. Including the wife of its last holder.
His desires had pushed her out of Haidh Park, just as she’d begun to make the place feel like home, and now he had followed her to London. Her already diminished finances, thanks to Archie’s vice-like will and ruthless solicitors, were tightened further still by Reginald, which he loved throwing around her neck like a noose.
The house she lived in, ramshackle and rough as it was, belonged to him, every square inch; it was by his wishes that she wasn’t out on the streets, as he frequently reminded her. He was quite content in the townhouse he’d had for years, and it suited him to have her in his debt.
Months of searching for available homes she could afford in London had proved to Edith just how pitiful her finances were.
She couldn’t afford anything.
There was nothing of her dowry to be spoken of, her father hadn’t made any provisions for her, and with virtually nothing to her own name, all that Edith could claim were a few dresses, her grandmother’s pearl combs, and the thoughts in her head.
Everything that she had brought to her marriage was still everything she had. The only thing she had gained in her widowhood were her friends. And they knew nothing of this.
Yet.
Edith rubbed at her brow, sighing heavily. She would have to tell them soon. The secrets that had been her constant companions for the last few years would not be kept secret for long, now that Sir Reginald had come to London.
There was no telling how they would respond to the news. She had no fear of upsetting any of them, more a fear of them raining down chaos upon London itself.
Charlotte Wright alone could be horrifying.
It was one of the things that Edith loved most about her, and the rest of the Spinsters.
Although now that she thought of it, only Charlotte was truly a spinster now. The others had married, and some had started families. The Spinster Chronicles still circulated as regularly as they ever did, and with just as much popularity, but the unifying aspect of spinsterhood was waning fast.
Edith had never qualified in that way, being a widow instead of a spinster, but the others hadn’t seen that as an impediment. Apparently, being married for the course of one day wasn’t long enough to truly be considered wedded in their minds.
If they only knew.
She shook her head now, straightening and smoothing her skirts. She had nothing to lose anymore and worrying wouldn’t solve anything. Bravery and boldness had never been the hallmark of Lady Edith MacDougal, especially when she’d married and become Lady Edith Leveson. Still, they would need to be her constant companions now. She would never survive her plan if she turned retreating and wilting, as she once had done.
She could never be that again.
“Mistress,” Owen prodded from the doorway. “The time?”
“I know.” Edith rose without grace or airs and faced Owen with resignation. “Am I daft to be getting on with this, Owen? Tell me truly.”
Owen shrugged his burly shoulders, his expression not changing. “There’s a verra fine line between daft and daring, mistress. Given what cards ye’ve been dealt, I’d say ye’d be daft to do otherwise.”
There wasn’t much hope or encouragement in his voice, but there was a certainty that steeled her spine and lifted her chin. “Verra true. I’ll just go up and let Simms flick me out for the evening. If you would have word sent to Lord and Lady Ingram, they have offered to fetch me, so I would not have to use my own carriage.”
“We don’t have a carriage,” Owen grunted.
A wry smile slid across Edith’s lips.
“Rather a convenient offering, then, wouldn’t you agree?”
She swept past him and made her way up the stairs, craning her neck back and forth, the strain of the interview with Sir Reginald making itself known in a profound way.
It would lend itself to a headache later, which could be a convenient excuse to leave the Martins’ ball when it all became too much. Provided Grace and Aubrey could be convinced to quit the gathering. They were far and away more social than she would ever be, and this was widely rumored to be the last important gathering before the Season began. It would be the place to be for those fond of such affairs.
Grace and her husband also happened to be some of the most considerate and caring individuals Edith had ever known. She had passed the winter with them in Derbyshire after Christmas, which had been a lovely retreat from her cares, though the return to them afterwards had been all the more brutal for the respite.
The Ingrams wouldn’t know that, though. All they knew was that Edith was attending this evening and that this Season would be different from the rest.
She was through with hiding from Society now.
She had to be.
“Nothing too ornate, Simms,” Edith said with a sigh as she pulled her arms free of her drab gown, watching as her maid began to pull every outdated ensemble from the bureau. “Simple elegance.”
Simms paused and gave her a bewildered look. “With my options, madam? I’ll be fortunate to manage elegant, though simple is easy enough.”
Edith frowned at the plump woman who had become both friend and advisor over the years. “I meant my hair.”
“I’m sure you did, madam.” Simms shook her head, pulling a familiar gown from the bureau.