Marchioness Divine | A Regency Romance

Chapter Eleven: Entertain Us

Edward was not sure what he currently found more distressing – the never-ending loneliness he felt each day and night, or his sister.

"Congratulations once again," he exclaimed, mustering up as much enthusiasm as he could. "Though surely you ought not be travelling in your condition."

"We live less than half a mile apart. And I am but three months pregnant. I am barely showing," Angeline huffed as she relaxed herself into the sofa in his living room. "Besides Mrs Pattinson makes the best cakes." She grinned and helped herself to another of the many treats on the table.

Still Edward knew there had to be a reason why his sister had called on him and refused to say anything to entertain her until she told him.

She frowned at his obtuse silence. "I had thought you would be more pleased to see me."

"What on earth gave you that idea?" asked Edward as he slouched into his armchair. He wasn't one to normally slouch but he didn't have the energy to sit up today, nor his mother chastising his posture – she had gone into town for the morning.

Angeline rolled her bright blue eyes. "This is precisely why I have come. Why have you been so sour recently?"

"I am not sour."

"You are always sour, but now more so than usual. What is wrong?"

Edward shrugged flippantly. "I am bored now that Parliament is closed."

He really ought to return to the country. He planned to in a few days, but he dreaded the lack of distractions. If he was being foul tempered now, how would he be in just a few weeks when his only form of entertainment was shooting birds and trying not to shoot his mother as she told him all about her new rose garden?

Angeline shook her head. "You cannot let that infernal house engulf your entire life."

"That infernal house is the most important house in the country."

"Please," Angeline grumbled. "Even Papa admitted that home was more important than the House of Lords."

Edward pressed his eyes shut before forcing himself to look back at his sister. "I know. I am not enough like Papa."

It felt like every decision he made would make his father disappointed. His father had never been disappointed in him, but Edward could not live up to him. He was making little enough progress in Parliament, his duties as an earl were beginning to stack up in a study he never entered anymore and matters on the marriage mart were about as dire as they had ever been. Edward could not help feel that he had something to prove, that he could be just as great as the greatest man he had ever known.

Angeline's voice suddenly softened. "Papa chased after the things he wanted," she said. "Not after the things he thought he should want."

Amelia had said almost the exact same. Was he that predictable? Was he really chasing after things that would not really make him happy? He set his mind to a cabinet position – he had no idea which one he wanted. What would make him happy?

He knew exactly what, but she had left London two weeks ago. In body. Her spirit had stayed, following him everywhere. He would have to have that bookcase torn down and the books given away, because every time he so much as looked at it his blood ran hot.

Perhaps some cold country air would be good for him. It must be doing her some good – he asked after her every time he saw Frederick but she had not written. She must be so content in her home. There was another reason why she kissed him: to distract her from her homesickness. It was definitely not out of affection, but grief. She had played him for a fool.