But his father finally found him.
In France.
In prison.
France in those days was a particularly dangerous place. Especially if one was branded a spy.
In retrospect, Edward was quite thankful his father had worked it out and rescued him. He hadn’t cared for captivity in the slightest. Although, to this day, he was still friends with the men who had shared his fetid cell, and always would be. He owed them a great debt.
He nodded to Transom as they passed. His old friend shot a look at the following brood and rolled his eyes.
Silence fell as they approached the table and Edward pulled out Aunt Hortense’s chair. She was still going on about the ball—which would be done in sea-foam blue, to complement Violet’s alabaster complexion, don’t you know—but Edward wasn’t listening. So he was free to notice the eerie stillness. The younger boys gathered around the far end of the table, their eyes trained on their aunt as she shifted her bulk into her seat.
He should have known.
He should have suspected.
They were far too silent.
As Hortense sat, a loud crack shot through the room and her chair collapsed.
Edward caught her just in time. But he could hardly hold her for long. Between the two of them, he and Transom managed to heft her to her feet. Glaring at the now howling imps, he called for another chair.
The footmen swarmed in to set an un-shattered chair at the table and remove the Chippendale sticks from the floor—dear Lord, that chair had been in the family for years. Then they reformed their ranks and, like a battalion facing battle, served the soup.
The incident had one positive benefit. Aunt Hortense stopped talking altogether as she recovered. At least for a while.
The meal was half over, and Edward was sorely regretting his decision to emerge from hiding, when Kaitlin appeared in the doorway. She was breathless. Her dress was rumpled. Her bun was slightly askew.
“Oh Kaitlin, darling,” Violet cooed. “Wherever have you been?”
She took her seat down the table, between Hamish and Sean. “I’m sorry. I was…” She cleared her throat. Flicked a glance in Edward’s direction. “Reading.” She tucked her napkin into her lap. “I fell asleep.”
“Must have been a boring book.” Malcolm passed her the sauce.
She blinked behind those spectacles. “Um, yes. Of course.” Her gaze danced over to Edward again.
Something simmering in those lovely orbs lit a fire in his belly. She’d been reading. He knew at once, exactly what.
Oh. Excellent.
His evening went from miserable to downright promising in a heartbeat.
He spent the remainder of the meal surreptitiously studying her, listening in on her conversations and interpreting every gesture. Also dodging carrots, as Sean and Dennis were flinging them at each other using their spoons as catapults, continuing their ongoing battle.
Aunt Hortense’s warbled admonitions fell on deaf ears.
Though, by the end of dinner, deaf ears would have been a blessing.
Still and all, when the company rose and made their way to the drawing room, he followed. Because Kaitlin went with them.
At Violet’s urging, she sat at the piano and played accompaniment as his cousin sang several songs in a lovely soprano. Then they switched places and Kaitlin sang. Edward sat in the wingchair and watched, oddly enchanted. Her voice was a rich, sultry alto. When the two sang a duet, it was downright delightful.
Edward was struck with the knowledge that he was attending an impromptu musicale—and rather enjoying it. Quite unexpected, that.
The boys then coordinated a rollicking game of Bouts-Rimés and then, of course, Rhymes with Rose. He found himself howling at some of the verses they came up with. He suggested chess and, after a hunt for the missing men, they sat around the table and partook in a tournament, with the winner of each game playing the next challenger.
Most games ended quickly. Hamish beating Taylor. Sean triumphing over Hamish, Dennis and Aunt Hortense. Malcolm squashing Sean and then Violet. Ned trouncing Malcolm.
The game between Ned and Kaitlin took much longer. Edward could tell she had played before, and many times. In the end, she won. Which delighted him. Because he was the only remaining challenger.
They took their positions, each sizing up the other. He knew more about her than she did of him, because he’d watched her play. He deliberately made a few foolish moves at the beginning, to throw her off her game. But she quickly caught on to his ploy.
She was a clever girl, his Kaitlin. She soon had him in a corner.
But he was a master at chess, and wiggled out of the hole.
Their game went on and on, advance and retreat, loss and triumph, until only a few pieces remained on the board.
The boys lost interest after a while and drifted off to explore other pursuits. Violet and Aunt Hortense became engaged in a meticulous discussion of the ball. That left Edward and Kaitlin alone together in the corner.