Edith hummed in his arms, then turned to give him a warm but mischievous look. “Did you have a reason for scaring the devil from me, or were you simply feeling impertinent?”
“A bit of both,” he replied. Smiling, he touched his brow to hers. “Would you ride across the estate with me?”
“I havnae been on a horse in years.” She kissed Graham gently on the lips, smiling. “But if ye’ve the mounts to spare, I would love to go.”
Graham kissed her in return, much less gently, a low groan rising within him.
“Perfect,” he murmured. “Come on.” He slid his hand into hers and entwined their fingers before heading for the door.
“I dinna have a riding habit, Graham,” she pointed out, sounding hesitant even if her steps were not.
Laughing, he glanced at her. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”
As he’d hoped, Edith laughed in return and squeezed his hand. “Then I willna say a word.”
They hurried out to the stables, and horses were quickly prepared for them.
As it happened, Edith was more than accomplished as a rider, and the exhilaration on her face from almost the moment they began was worth more than the entire house party. They galloped almost recklessly at first, raced for a bit, then let the horses walk while they engaged in free and relaxed conversation with each other. It was so easy to talk with Edith and even easier to listen to her. The sound of her voice was soothing, but it was more than that.
It was so much more.
She spoke of her home in Scotland, her older brother and younger sister, and the sort of life they’d had as children of an earl without much to recommend him. He spoke of his brother, of their rambunctious youth, and of the sort of marriage Matthew had found. She told him about her grandmother, by all accounts the only member of her family to always treat her well. He told her of the life he had imagined for himself before he’d inherited.
“But I suppose there is no use in remembering that life,” he admitted, nudging his horse closer to her. “I have the title, I have Merrifield, and I have Molly. Responsibilities all, though Molly is easily the best and brightest of them.”
Edith beamed at him, her dark hair having tumbled from its style on the ride and now hanging in waves around her shoulders and down her back. “I can easily see that. She is the loveliest lass. I’m quite fond of her, Graham.”
He smiled softly. “And she is of you. She asks me every morning when you are coming.”
“You see her every morning even with the house party?” she asked with a smile.
He nodded. “We have breakfast together. I cannot attend her all the time, and she knows this, but I was in London so long, I want to make up for it.” His smile turned sheepish, and he shrugged. “And she seems to enjoy eating with me.”
“Yes, I can imagine she would.” Edith considered him with a tilt of her head, her lips curving into a fond smile. “You are a fine father figure, hero.”
He snorted and gave her a look. “Passable, at best. And don’t call me that, Lady Edith Leveson.”
“Don’t call me a Leveson,” she retorted, shuddering a bit. “ ’Tis the only thing I share with the weasel, and I detest it now.”
Now that was something he could understand.
He shook his head, staring at this miraculous, impetuous woman he had come to know, wondering how in the world she had come to this.
“How did the weasel obtain such power over you?”
Edith looked at him with wide eyes as she rode, clearly stunned. “You don’t know? I’d have thought the others would have said something afore this.”
“I know a little,” he admitted, patting the horse’s neck as the animal nickered beneath him. “I know he is the cousin of your late husband, and I know what he wants of you, but beyond that…”
Edith looked away, staring off at the grove of trees in the distance.
Graham winced and reached out to take her hand. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to sadden you. It must be very hard at times, and if you still miss your husband…”
“On the contrary,” Edith informed him with a smirk, returning her attention to him, “I have not missed my husband from the moment he was taken from me. Does that shock you?”
He shook his head. “Not as much as it should. I had heard, of course, of Sir Archibald and his ways, but I wasn’t at all sure what…” His cheeks flamed in sudden embarrassment. “That is… if your relationship was…”
Edith took pity on him and exhaled shortly. “I was bartered to Sir Archibald, and I do not say that lightly. He received a titled bride in exchange for a moderate fortune, less than he’d have liked, that was very shortly spent upon nothing of particular value.” She managed a weak smile, though Graham could see real pain behind the façade. “The rumor goes that I was married for about five minutes, but in truth, it was really about the space of an hour. Perhaps two, at most.”
Graham pulled his horse to a stop, barely able to blink at what she had said. “You’re joking.”
She shook her head, her smile fading as she stopped as well. “Not at all. We were married long enough for him to do his marital duty, no breakfast or luncheon after the vows, and then he died in a horse-riding accident directly after he left our marriage bed.”
He hissed a wince. “That’s terrible.”
“Oh, no, it was quite a relief,” she assured him without much emotion. “It was the most horrifying, painful, terrifying hour of my entire life, and then, suddenly, I was freed from it all. His will had not been amended to include provisions for me, which my father should have overseen, but…”
“I meant the manner of his death,” Graham interrupted with a short laugh, “and that he died so quickly following the wedding.”
Edith flushed and laughed, tucking a dark curl behind her ear. “Oh. Oh, that.” Her brow furrowed briefly with thought, then cleared. “Yes, I suppose it was. It probably didn’t help that he was so drunk he couldn’t remember my name.”
“He was what?”
“Drunk,” she said again, her eyes somewhere on his horse’s mane. “Completely and fully soused. Could barely make his vows intelligible. He drank his way back to his house after the wedding, drank his way through his duty, and called me four different names throughout, none of which were mine. Then he called me a fifth name as he stumbled out of the bedchamber, yet another bottle in hand.”
Graham couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Was disgusted by what he was hearing. Would have probably killed Sir Archibald himself, if the blackguard were alive today.
But he never would have met Edith if he were alive today.
There was no telling where she would be or what her life would look like. Graham’s life would have proceeded along as it had done with all the same tragedies, responsibilities, and tasks. Everything would have been the same up until one night at the Martins’ ball during a particular waltz.
He wouldn’t have danced it.
He wouldn’t be out riding with her now.
Wouldn’t have…
“I didna even like Archie,” Edith murmured aloud, seeming somehow unaware she was doing so. “I loathed him and feared him, and I didna understand why Da would drag me down the aisle to wed him. Why Ma didn’t come. Why Lachlan had done this. But the thing that fully cracked my heart in two was that my husband couldna remember my name on the day he made his vows.”