The Marriage Wager (29 page)

“Baroness,” said a hated voice from the other end of a short corridor. “You are here. Good.”

The servant held out his hands for her cloak, but Emma kept it huddled around her. Moving forward, she examined the count’s sitting room from the doorway. It was only a little cleaner than the stair. Grime had collected in the corners and streaked the bay window that overlooked the street. The furniture was sagging and shabby, the rug and draperies faded to brown. Some effort had been made to lighten the atmosphere. A colorful paisley shawl had been flung over the ancient sofa. But the overall effect remained depressing. The count must be desperate, Emma thought, and braced herself to face his worst. “Wait here, Ferik,” she said, stationing him just outside the door before walking into the room.

“I’m very pleased that you took my advice,” said the count. “I trust you will forgive the, er, simplicity of my quarters. Sit down. Angelo will bring wine.”

“I don’t want any wine,” said Emma, letting her hood fall back. “I won’t be staying long.” She moved a few steps closer to him, not wanting their conversation overheard, but she stayed between the count and the door. “I came here to tell you to leave me, and everyone associated with me, alone,” she said tightly. “No more ‘chance’ encounters or intrusions in my activities. Do you hear me—none!”

The count gave her a bland look. “Of course,” he said. “I am at your command, as soon as you do as I have asked.”

Emma stiffened. Her arms were rigid at her sides, her fists clenched. She felt as if she were made of stone. “Understand this,” she said. “I will never introduce you into London society, and I will not permit you to harm my friends. You may as well leave England. There is nothing for you here.”

His answering smile was predatory. He looked like a hunter who is pleased and excited by the cleverness of his prey. “I had so hoped we could deal together in a friendly way,” he said, moving closer to her. “For my dead friend Edward’s sake, I gave you time to consider my very reasonable request. I have not pressed you, even though you have treated me quite shabbily, eh?”

“Have you not? You have continually invaded my life,” said Emma. “But it will do you no good. I will never help you.”

“As a gentleman…”

Emma made a rude noise.

Count Orsino gave her an admonishing look. “As a gentleman, I have so far refrained from mentioning the true reasons why you
will
help me.”

“I won’t—”

“But now you leave me no choice,” he interrupted. His face had flushed slightly. His lips were parted and his dark eyes glistening. He looked like a man who was about to indulge in his favorite pleasure, Emma thought. And he was looking at her in a way that was both unsettling and embarrassing. She prepared herself for the real battle between them.

“When Edward drank, he became extremely confiding,” Orsino said throatily.

“I’m sure you encouraged him to do so,” snapped Emma.

“And of course, he drank a good deal,” insinuated the count, as if she had not spoken.

“At your insistence,” she replied. “It made him easier to fleece.”

“He told me so many things about you,” Orsino continued. His voice had gone distant, meditative, as if he was remembering some delightful occasion when he had deeply enjoyed himself. “Edward could paint extremely, er, vivid pictures when he wished to,” he added.

“He raved when he was drunk,” said Emma curtly. She was beginning to be afraid of what was coming.

“Oh, these weren’t ravings. They were remarkably lucid. And, er, detailed. He made a particularly gripping story of your elopement.” The count’s liquid eyes caressed her lewdly.

Emma flushed.

“It was quite entertaining to hear how you insisted upon fleeing with him when your father forbade the match, how you could scarcely keep your hands off him in the coach as you went.” His glance became intimate, lingering on the curves of Emma’s body.

Her flush deepened. What a toad Edward was, she thought.

“And your… eagerness during the week before you were actually married.” His teeth showed in a feral smile. “It made quite a
rousing
tale.”

She had been eager, Emma thought miserably. She had thought she was in love, and she had believed that Edward loved her as ardently. She had imagined that they would spend the rest of their lives happily together. Instead, she had gotten seven years of hell, and now it was capped by this—the revelation that Edward had publicly humiliated her with his worthless friends. Shame and rage kept her silent.

“No doubt your new husband and his noble friends would enjoy hearing every intimate detail.” The count continued running his eyes over her.

“You are despicable,” said Emma.

“And when I add certain… realistic touches, such as the mole you have on your…”

“You dare?” she exclaimed.

“Oh, yes.” He looked like a man anticipating something he longed for. “I dare nearly anything when my livelihood is in jeopardy. As you must know.”

She did, thought Emma, with a sinking heart. She remembered an occasion in Vienna when Orsino had been at the end of his resources. He had discovered a wealthy young German who was visiting the city to show his new son to his wife’s parents. After administering liberal doses of brandy, he had won the young man’s entire fortune in one long night of high stakes gaming. The next day, sober again, his victim had thrown himself under the wheels of a heavy cart rather than face his family. And Orsino had mocked his stupidity that night at the tables. He had been flushed and replete, as he was now, feeding on another’s pain.

“And I fear,” continued the man in a deceptively gentle tone, “that it will appear I have
personal
knowledge of your charms.” The tip of his tongue showed briefly along his full lower lip. “Of course, in a sense, I do. Edward was extremely forthcoming.” His voice hardened. “And if you do not help me, I shall do everything possible to convince all London that we have been passionate lovers.”

“If I tell my husband you are a liar, he will believe me,” Emma responded.

Count Orsino shrugged. “If you say so. But others may not be so trusting.”

They certainly would not be, Emma thought. The silly stories that had been circulated about them so far would be like candle flames compared to the wildfire of scandal Orsino would delight in stirring up.

Trembling with disgust, Emma turned and walked away from him, taking up a position near the window and watching the rain streak down the glass. She had known that he would have some threat in reserve, she thought, but she had not anticipated this. The raindrops blurred before her eyes.

For seven years, she had lived with a man whose obsession had defeated any impulses he might have had toward the good. One by one, he had destroyed all her hopes and illusions of love. He had dragged her down to the razor edge of respectability, with the constant threat of a plunge right off it. He had raged and sworn at her, abandoned her even as they continued to live in the same house. But through it all, Emma had held on to the belief that once, in the very beginning, he had felt something for her. Now, that belief cracked and disintegrated. Edward had always held her in contempt. He had wanted only her money, never her. And now, from beyond the grave, through Orsino, he was threatening the one thing she had been able to salvage from those years—her good name. There had been days when the only thing that had sustained her was the knowledge that she, at least, had maintained her principles. Orsino threatened to sweep this away as if it were nothing.

“So you see how it is,” said the count, shrugging as if there was nothing he could do.

And not just herself, Emma thought. Colin would suffer along with her—or more. She couldn’t bear to think of his humiliation if Orsino’s lies began to be whispered through the
ton
. It would be the last straw, Emma thought despairingly. They had weathered the irregularity of their match, and Lady Mary’s ridiculous allegations, but this would be too much. Colin could not be expected to allow the ruin of his family name. He would have to reject her. She turned and glared at Orsino, rage and contempt in her gaze.

It had no effect.

“But the solution is so simple,” he said, once more spreading his hands. “A few introductions, perhaps an invitation or two, and you are rid of me.”

That was another lie, Emma thought. Once he had a hold on her, he would never go away. She would be doing his bidding, slowly destroying her self-respect, for the rest of her life. She clasped her hands tight together. She had to have time to think, to discover a way to stop him. “I… I must think it over,” she said, pretending to be beaten and near surrender. “In a week… or, no, two. Yes, in two weeks, I will—”

“Alas, my dear baroness, I fear I cannot wait so long,” was the answer. He smiled, and Emma marveled at his ability to look benevolent. He hid his true self so well. And that just made him more convincing, she thought savagely.

“A week, then,” she said.

He hesitated. “Very well,” he replied finally. “But in the meantime I shall of course cultivate my acquaintance with the interesting young woman you presented to me.”

Emma ground her teeth together. “You will leave Lady Mary alone!” she said.

“As soon as you agree to my terms,” he replied.

“You devil,” said Emma. “You wretched, cowardly—”

With one rapid step, he was upon her, catching her upper arms in a painful grasp and pushing his face close to hers. His breath smelled of spirits even so early in the day. “Take care what you call me,” he said softly. “You are alone in my chambers, after all. And I would not be averse to making my claims about our intimacy quite real.” He bent to fasten his lips on hers, but Emma jerked away.

“Ferik!” she called.

“Yes, mistress,” replied a deep voice from the hall. Heavy footsteps approached.

Count Orsino let his hands drop and moved hastily back. “Blast that overgrown barbarian,” he hissed. “I heard what he did to Charlie Todd in Constantinople. He is no fit servant for a civilized woman.”

“On the contrary,” said Emma, with the first satisfaction she had felt during this interview. “He is precisely the servant for a civilized woman. An uncivilized one would not need him, because she would scratch your eyes out herself. Ah, Ferik, we are going.”

“Yes, mistress,” said Ferik, looming in the doorway.

“This changes nothing,” declared the count spitefully. “You have a week.”

Emma left the room, very conscious that she had no answer to this taunt.

***

Outside, it was still raining, though not as hard as before. Emma started off down the street at a rapid pace, paying little attention to the direction.

“Shall I find a cab, mistress?” asked Ferik, lagging behind her.

“I wish to walk a while. I need to think.”

“But it is raining, mistress,” said Ferik in scandalized tones.

“That doesn’t matter.”

“But, mistress.” All of the giant’s dislike of the English climate vibrated in those two words.

“Please be quiet. I must try to decide what to do,” was Emma’s reply.

Ferik subsided into offended silence. Emma strode along the muddy street, oblivious to the increasing dampness of her cloak, turning over alternatives in her mind. She felt trapped, like a fly struggling in a spider’s web. She knew from experience that Orsino could be horribly convincing, and he had such damning details to embellish his story. Emma had seen the count wreck a dozen reputations with a few well-placed anecdotes and his pose of complete sincerity.

She shuddered, but not from the cold and damp, and pulled her sodden cloak closer around her shoulders.

She could try to discover what crimes the count was fleeing on the Continent, she thought. But she didn’t have much hope of success. She didn’t know whom to ask, and Orsino had been known to use false names and identities. It was most unlikely that she would happen upon anyone who could accuse him and force quick action under English law.

She could leave, Emma thought bleakly. But he would tell his story out of spite in that case, and it would follow her wherever she went. Colin might, too. Or he might not, she realized with cold dread. He might let her go in disgust.

Emma drew her arms tight around her chest under the cloak. There seemed no way out. But she was fiercely certain of one thing; she would not let Orsino win.

They came out onto a busy street. Sheets of water splashed from beneath the wheels and hooves of a stream of passing equipages. Pedestrians had their heads down against the rain. Emma turned to look at Ferik. He was very obviously wet and miserable.

Emma felt a pang of guilt. She had been so absorbed in her own concerns recently that she had not given much thought to Ferik. He did not belong in England, she admitted now. She should not have brought him. But she had needed him; she could not have survived without his protection. Her guilt increased at this admission of selfishness. She would have to do something for him, she thought. Eventually, he needed to go home, with a munificent reward for his service to her, though no sum of money could ever repay him. She didn’t want to ask Colin for money, however, especially just now. She would have to see to this, also, herself.

But there was, at least, something tangible she could do right now. “Why don’t you find us a cab, Ferik?” she said gently.

“Yes, mistress!” He leapt into the crowd, and in a few moments, despite active competition, had secured them a hack. Emma climbed aboard in silence for the ride home.

***

Lady Mary Dacre called an hour early on the morning when they were scheduled to go out, and Emma was in no mood to see her, or indeed, anyone else. Since her visit to Orsino, she could think of only one thing—how to prevent the man from destroying her marriage and ruining her life. The threat colored everything she did. It made her distant and forgetful with acquaintances. It destroyed her interest in routine household tasks. And worst of all, it made her draw away from Colin at the very moment when she most wanted to move closer, to discover what his feelings for her truly were.

And though she told herself that she must go on with her daily round and not let anyone see that something was wrong, Emma found the girl’s stream of chatter as irritating as the buzz of gnats around one’s face on a country walk.