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“Her name is Ariadne. She’s the one who saved my life,” Edward said.
Charles blinked. “You mean the girl who found you—”
“Yes,” Edward said. “She nursed me back to health. I know my wounds don’t look grave to you but it’s only because she cleaned it up before I died. I got lucky.” He told her about how she had slept by his side throughout the night when he had a fever, cared for him, and even shared her food.
“And she has been in your mind ever since?” Charles asked. Edward nodded. His cousin was lost in his mind for a few seconds before he said. “There is a simple explanation for it.”
“What is?”
“You met her when you were in a vulnerable state and as you already told me, you spent time together, alone. This was a new experience for you and your mind is muddling it with affection,” Charles said matter-of-factly.
Edward frowned. Could his cousin be right? They had been brought together when he was under duress. Is that why he had been unable to get Ariadne out of his mind?
“All things apart what does the woman think of you?” Charles asked fixing his cousin with his gaze.
Edward shook his head, his mouth morose. “She hates me, I think. I lied to her about my identity. I told her I’m a merchant and I didn’t have the opportunity to tell her the truth before my father burst in on us. You should have seen the look of betrayal on her face.”
“That makes it easy then,” Charles said.
Edward scowled at his cousin. “What do you mean?”
“It’s better to put her out of your mind and to rest. She lives in a slum and you’re a future duke. Do you realize how ridiculous this sounds?” Charles said. “Besides she hates you, so what’s the point of pursuing her?”
“I’m not pursuing her,” Edward said, raking a frustrated finger through his hair. “I want to see her again, maybe apologize for my behavior. She doesn’t deserve this.”
“And what then?” Charles asked.
“You told me yourself. I can’t pay any mind to everything else happening in my life. Isn’t it better that I see her again and let my demons to rest?”
“Is that all you want from her?” Charles asked. He didn’t look convinced at all.
“Yes,” Edward lied. He felt quite desperate and he hated this feeling. Ever since he was a child he was used to getting things his way, whatever and whenever he wanted it. Now the circumstances seemed to be spiraling out of his hand and he seemed unable to do anything about it. He didn’t like this feeling at all.
“Fine,” Charles said. “I’ll make some inquiries around. I know a few people who might be able to help me. Do you have any details about her?”
“Her name is Ariadne Davy. She has a younger sister Leda and another older woman called Emma who lives with them,” Edward said and then frowned trying to remember. “And they spoke about how they were related to an Earl—”
“A girl living in the slums and related to an Earl?” Charles asked, a finger poised over his chin. “That’s very interesting.”
“And what is she like?” he further asked.
“Is it for the sake of the investigation?” Edward asked, raising a brow.
“Not at all. I’m curious about what kind of woman has at last caught the eye of my cousin. All these years, I supposed that the only reason you didn’t take a mistress was for the sake of your future wife. Now I know otherwise,” Charles chuckled. “You’re not so immune to vices of men after all.”
Edward’s throat tightened as he thought about Ariadne. Her brown hair spilling down her back, her beautiful gray-blue eyes, her lush figure.
“I will take one good guess and venture you’re thinking about her again, aren’t you?” Charles asked with a chuckle. Edward didn’t even deny it. Charles rolled his eyes. “Women, I tell you. There’s something about them.”
* * *
In the evening, Edward’s butler announced tea in the drawing room which wasn’t too unusual but ever since his father had retired, he liked to spend time to himself. Edward changed into his evening attire and then made way toward the main hall where his father was waiting for him.
The Duke was always punctual and expected people to extend the same courtesy to him. As children, if they were late to meals even by two minutes, their knuckles were rapped with a wooden stick so that the offense wouldn’t be repeated in the future. The Duke had always been a stern man and never played favorites with his children.
When he arrived, he was alone and sat on his high chair and looking out the window. “You called for me, Father?” Edward said.
“Ah, Edward, yes. Take a seat,” he said without turning toward him. Edward took the chair opposite to where the silver tray and cups had been set down by the servant. He waited as a maid drew forward and served him his tea with sugar and milk. His father didn’t take either, preferring the strong taste of tea instead. He knew there was a reason he was here and no sooner he had had the thought when Robert Remington turned to him, his tea saucer drawn to his lips.
