Free The Prince of Eden by Marilyn Harris

brushed across Edward's brow. "What a pretty brow," he smiled. "Still a pretty brow. Your mother's brow," he added, the delight on his face softening into sorrow.
    Edward leaned forward. "She would be here if she could, William, if she knew—"
    The old man nodded quickly. "I know. You must convey to her my affection." He continued to stare intently into Edward's face as though seeing beyond it. "My God," he murmured, smiling, "that woman has never been where I wanted her. It seems as though I've spent half my life waiting for her, calling for her. When I lost this—" He glanced down at his smooth right side, then abruptly broke off" speaking.
    Edward fought continuously against the conflict within him, the feeling that he should leave and the desire to stay. "Please, William," he begged, "try to be at ease. Don't—"
    "Be at ease," the man scoffed on diminishing breath. "I'll be at ease soon enough. For now, let's talk of you."
    Edward had not expected such a direct focus.

    Apparently William saw the surprise on his face. "IVe followed the trial, Edward," he said, his voice strong. "I know all about the young woman, and I know too of your constant attendance in the company of that jackass. Sir Claudius Potter—" He hesitated, not faltering this time, merely giving Edward a chance to assimilate his words. Slowly he went on. "What I don't know is your involvement in the affair."
    Edward bowed his head. "My involvement is total," he confessed.
    William nodded. "I thought as much." Again he fell into a close scrutiny of Edward's face. "Well," he sighed, "fifty years ago you would have met the offended husband in the meadows beyond Hampstead Heath and the affair would have been settled in a matter of minutes. Now, in this 'progressive age,' the two cocks go free and the poor hen is left to suffer the consequences."
    "She will not suffer," Edward interjected quickly.
    William looked surprised. "Sentence has been handed down, and knowing the old magistrate, it will stand—"
    Edward agreed, and disagreed. "But she will never face it. I have friends in Newgate—"
    Suddenly the old man's face brightened. "A plot? Oh, how delicious. Tell me all, Edward. A farewell plot to warm an old man's bones—"
    In spite of himself, Edward smiled. The very matter of which he'd agonized for four long weeks seemed suddenly as important as a theatrical at the Haymarket. "Some money will change hands," he began. "The head turnkey at Newgate will conveniently leave doors unlocked. My friends will spirit her out—" He came to a halt in his narrative, realizing that there his plot ended.
    "And?" prompted William.
    Edward shrugged. "And—nothing. She'll be free."
    "To do what?"
    "What she pleases," Edward replied, rather snappish. He left the bedside and went to the window.
    Behind him he heard a soft inquiry. "Do you love her?"
    Edward stared through the window at the patch of dwindling blue above. "I made love to her," he replied.
    Again from behind, he heard a clucking noise. "Oh, Edward," William sighed. "What a waste."
    As Edward looked over his shoulder, he saw the white head wagging back and forth. "Mind you, I'm not opposed to taking other men's wives. I took a few of my own in my day. But I always did it with passion." 'He closed his eyes as though the word tasted sweet upon his lips. "Passion," he repeated, smiling, "the true test of vulgarity and refinement."
    In his own defense, Edward said, "She was lonely, as was I. I loved

    her in a fashion, still love her, perhaps—" In despair, he shook his head and again looked out the window. "My problem, William, seems to be the classic inability to define love—"
    For a moment, the room was silent behind him. When that silence persisted, he turned in alarm, only to find the man staring at him. Still when he did not speak, Edward stepped back to the bed. In some confusion, he saw tears on the old man's face.
    "Have I said something, William, that—"
    But quickly the man shook his head. As