Free A Debutante's Guide to Rebellion by Kathleen Kimmel Page A

best for you, Mildred,” her mother said, and kissed her brow.

Chapter Seven
    Three visits in two days. It’s almost as if I have friends,
Eddie mused as she descended the stairs, her mother trailing her. Ezekiel Blackwood was here again, and she couldn’t imagine why. It was not as if they would be able to speak freely with her mother as escort. When they entered the drawing room he was standing stiffly, fiddling with a loose thread at the hem of his jacket. Their greetings were perfunctory, and when he sat none of the tension went out of him.
    â€œThere’s something I need to tell you,” he said immediately when they sat. His eyes fixed on a point somewhere to Eddie’s left, but she was used to that by now—his habit of never quite looking you in the eye. It might have been interpreted as shiftiness by some, but Eddie recognized it as shyness, or something similar. “I spoke with my uncle on the subject of matrimony. His opinions, both generally and specific. We spoke about you.”
    Lady Copeland shifted, her expression altering like quicksilver. She was clearly battling a mix of emotions—distaste at Mr. Blackwood’s manners; eagerness at news of Lord Averdale’s disposition toward her daughter.
    â€œHe does not intend to marry,” Mr. Blackwood said, and Lady Copeland’s face turned to a stony mask. Eddie felt made of stone herself. Cold, lumpy stone, chiseled into something that vaguely resembled a lady in conversation with a man. But stone had no thoughts; it was inert, and so was she. She heard the words, but they held no meaning. She could not allow them to hold meaning.
    â€œI beg your pardon,” she said. She had no conscious awareness of selecting the words; they simply emerged. “Could you repeat that?”
    Mr. Blackwood looked pained. “My uncle does not intend to remarry. Anyone. He enjoys your company, but he does not intend to ask for your hand now or ever.”
    â€œI see,” Eddie said. She rose, still feeling as if someone else were in control of her body.
    Lord Averdale does not wish to marry me,
she thought, expecting to feel despair. Instead, she felt nothing. And then, quite the opposite of nothing—a thrill of hope.
    Perhaps,
the hope began, and it ended with Mr. Blackwood and the wide, earnest eyes behind his spectacles, but she didn’t dare fill in the rest.
    She cleared her throat. “Thank you for investigating the matter, Mr. Blackwood. You have been most helpful. If you will excuse me, I’m afraid I am not feeling well.”
    He jolted to his feet. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll go. I’m sorry. I thought that you needed to know. Maybe I should not have said anything. Was I right, to tell you?”
    â€œOf course,” Eddie said coolly, shoving that flickering little hope away. “I am most grateful to be spared the humiliation of pursuing someone who is not interested in me.”
    He said something else, but she wasn’t listening. She was glad when he left, striding out of the room with hunched shoulders. Behind her, her mother’s skirts rustled as she repositioned herself.
    â€œWell. That won’t do at all,” she said.
    Eddie didn’t turn. She couldn’t look at her mother just yet. If she did, her mother might see the relief on her face. Or guess at the traitorous little
perhaps
. “It’s not as if it’s a great surprise,” she said. “It did seem strange that I should be the one to catch Lord Averdale’s eye.”
    â€œDon’t be ridiculous. You have much to recommend you.”
    â€œDo I?” Eddie said. “That comes as news to me.”
    â€œYour father is an earl. You have wide hips, good for childbearing. You are unobtrusive.”
    â€œPractically irresistible,” Eddie said. She pressed her hand over her stomach, reminding herself to breathe steadily. Her best chance of a quick escape was gone. So