Jared
remained silent. For some reason, Emily's independence was an asset he found
particularly attractive.
Agatha
fingered her gown. "La, you must know her brothers would never approve of
you anyway."
Jared's
brows snapped together. To think that Emily's family would dare turn him down
again. Not that he would ask them and not that he was afraid of Roderick. No
indeed.
Ignoring
his aunt's jibes, he walked over to his chair where his waistcoat and jacket
had been laid out. "And pray tell, why would Lady Emily's brothers never approve
of me?"
"You
are a gambler, my boy. A drinker." Agatha paused as if reflecting over her
choice of words and lowered her voice, "A man about town."
Jared
clenched his teeth, annoyed at the thought of Emily knowing about his past, and
especially annoyed at the way Agatha was making him feel. He distinctly
recalled Agatha's information about the Black Wolf and wondered what other
secrets she knew about him, or his daughter. "Pray then, what knowledge
have you about my life on the Continent the past few years, since you seem to
know everything else about me?"
A shadow
of irritation flickered across Agatha's face, followed instantly by an innocent
blink of her eyes. "My, did I say the Continent?"
"No,
however the meaning was quite clear."
Agatha
tilted her gaze out the window. "You do realize if Emily's brothers ever
discovered that you had been found in a compromising position with her, you
would be fed on a silver platter to that Little Corsican in St. Helena. But, of
course, if you loved the lady, you would not care a fig about her brothers,
would you?" She turned back to him. "Any lady, as a matter of
fact."
Jared
gave his bottle green waistcoat a slight pull and strode across his
bedchambers. He would not be coerced into one of Agatha's lengthy discussion
about his love life. He fixed his neckcloth, stood by the door, then waited for
her to depart. "Are you by chance avoiding my question?"
Agatha
turned and lifted her head. "I hear the young duke is a crack shot on the
dueling field."
Jared
grimaced. Roderick was more than a crack shot. He was the most pigheaded,
hot-tempered man Jared knew beside himself. And honor demanded that Jared keep
his distance from Emily, attraction or not.
"Crack
shot indeed, Aunt. Let us make a day of it and forget about this little
incident. What say you to that?"
Forgetting
would be impossible. It was hard enough for Jared to forget the sweetness of
Emily's body when she was pressed beneath him. But the kiss had been heaven.
She was no longer a seventeen-year-old girl.
Agatha
strode ahead of him. "I daresay, I will forget about the matter entirely.
Depend upon it."
Jared
let out a small smile. Ah, she had no wish to see him killed by the duke.
"Put away your worries, Aunt, I won't be meeting the duke on the dueling
field. You can rest your little head about that."
"Can
I?" she said, glancing over her shoulder.
The
question simmered in Jared's mind all the way to the fair.
A cool
breeze brought the smell of cinnamon and butter to Emily's nostrils, and her
stomach growled. The fair had drawn a huge crowd in the town square. Jugglers
performed their entertaining feats, and jesters had the gatherers roaring with
laughter. Wagons filled with hay escorted groups of excited children on a
thrilling trip back and forth to the Red Knight Inn. Food vendors with their
heavenly scents of meat pies, scones, buns, and other delectables, filled the
jammed alcoves surrounding the square.
Emily
had barely eaten anything all day, but she would be the last one to ask the
earl for a turn toward the vendor's booth nearest them. Since Agatha and Jane
had insisted she stay and watch the entertainment, she was determined to wait
in silence until the two ladies returned with the famous meat pies Agatha so
loved. But to Emily's displeasure, that particular food was located the
farthest away from them, across the square.
Staring
straight ahead, Emily kept her gaze focused on the juggler tossing three red
balls into the air, yet all her thoughts were on the man standing stiffly
beside her. It was obvious he was not pleased after their encounter in his
bedchambers, and neither was she. Dwelling on the compromising position brought
an embarrassing heat to her cheeks, and that unforeseen kiss made her feel all
too vulnerable to his charms.
Sliding
her gray cloak off her head, she let the cool breeze caress her face, hoping
Jared would remain silent. She needed to sort her emotions, because she had no intention
of letting the recent incident in his bedchambers scatter her wits like the
balls bouncing in front of her.
The
raucous laughter of a group of young boys filled her ears, reminding her of her
brothers when they had been drinking. Inwardly she smiled. Did all men turn
into such ninnies when they had their spirits?
At that
moment she could not help but sense Jared's gaze on her. She glanced over her
shoulder. His steely glare bore into hers, and she bit back a sharp retort. She
would never have ventured into his chambers if that dog of his had any manners
at all. Refusing to be drawn into an argument, she turned back to the juggler
and forced herself to laugh and clap her hands along with the crowd, praying
that Agatha would come along soon.
Her eyes
followed the shiny red ball flying high in the air, but like her heart, it came
falling to the ground with a plop. If she ever heard another Wordsworth poem
again, she would curl up and die. How could he have laughed at her book? Their
book? She would prove to him that he meant nothing to her. She was immune to
him. She was.
"Agatha
adores the meat pies," she said, staring ahead. "I hear Mr. Gimby
comes all the way from London. His brother owns the Red Knight Inn, you
know."
Jared
stepped closer to her, the energy between them crackling like the sparks from a
blazing fire. "You should never have come into my bedchambers. Roderick
would have my head." His sharp response was nothing at all what she had
expected.
She
refused to flinch at the accusation in his tone. "Ah, then am I to believe
honor is your main concern here?"
He
turned his head, his jaw stiff as his gaze followed a man swaying on a pair of
stilts. "I attended school with all your brothers."
As if
that would explain everything? Emily stared blankly at the juggler, her heart
erecting a wall of steel.
"What
exactly did Roderick do to make you promise to watch over me?" she asked.
"Save your life?" It was meant as a sarcastic remark, but what she
did not expect was the shocking answer.
"Yes,
as a matter of fact, he did."
She
stiffened. "I see."
"No,
I don't think you do see at all. Today could have been disastrous. Blast it,
Emily, if anyone but Agatha or Jane had appeared at the doorway . . ." He
plowed a hand through his dark hair. "If your brothers ever suspected that
you and I were seeing each other, now or even before—"
The
crowd started pressing in, cutting off his comments, pushing the two closer
together. Jared was crushed up against her shoulder. Emily blinked back tears.
He had never loved her. It was but a game to him. His touch was almost unbearable.
He said something, but his voice was drowned out as the crowd boomed with
applause and laughter when the juggler stood on his head, managing four balls
in the air.
When the
laughter subsided, Emily tried to move away from him as she spoke. "What a
horrid thought, my lord. To think that you might have been forced to marry poor
little me?"
He
grabbed her shoulders, spun her around, his lips curling into a dangerous
scowl. "Stop it, Em. I'm no longer the man you loved. We were children
then."
Emily flinched,
pulling away. Her heart shook at the sound of his words. He was right. This was
not the boy she had loved. In the short span of three years, he had become a
man with a commanding presence that could thwart even the most powerful of men
like her brothers.
He had
changed, but so had she.
"I
believe, my lord, that you are to guard me, and that is all. Do not flatter
yourself that I was once in love with you. It was but a silly game we played,
nothing more."
With
perfect timing, a short, pudgy man, holding a freshly baked bun, pushed between
them. The sweet smell of butter made Emily recall that she had not eaten
anything for hours.
"I
will not be forced into a marriage again," Jared growled, lowering his
head to hers, almost touching her.
"What
are you saying?" Had he been forced to marry Felicia?
"I
mean exactly that, madam." His mouth thinned.
Emily
gasped in outrage, pulling her cloak over her face. How dare he think she
planned being found in his chambers? She had loved him.
Tears
collected in her eyes, but she refused to let him see. She sniffed, trying to
focus on the juggler passing three flaming torches back and forth to his
partner, a painted lady dressed in a revealing outfit of purple and pink boa
feathers. The crowd began to grow, laughing and pushing, and she was pressed
from all sides. But even the grand sight of the festive woman did not uplift
her mood.
"We
cannot marry, Em. We were never meant to be. This very minute your brothers are
finding a suitable husband for you."
She felt
herself drain of color. A suitable husband indeed. Jared waited for her answer.
But she said nothing. She could not face him. He would see her grief, and she
could not bear to let him see the hot tears spilling down her cheeks.
The
crowd blurred before her.
"Emily.
You must see why this is best."
The
tender sound of her name on his lips squeezed her heart, but she could say
nothing. Two boys pushed her aside, battling for space to view the boa feathers
and the lady who wore them. A foul-smelling woman immediately followed,
elbowing her way forward, separating Emily from Jared even more.
Whether
Jared was about to apologize or not, Emily did not care. Not anymore. She hated
him for what he had done to her. Hated him for agreeing with her brothers'
plans. Hated him for making her feel again and throwing it back in her face.
"Blast,"
he said harshly, "this is a becoming an unruly mob. Stay close to me or
you might be trampled to death."
Emily
ignored his plea as the crowd began to roar with glee when the woman dropped
the boa. From the corner of her eye she saw Jared reach out for her, but she
shrugged away. A rude man who smelled of manure stepped between them.
Jared
cursed, pushing the man aside. She found herself jostled back and forth like a
small fish in the ocean. People stepped on her toes and pulled at her cloak,
shoving her aside so they could obtain a better view. Strands of hair fell
across her face, and she barely heard Jared shouting as he pushed through the
frenzied crowd.
But she
was numb. Too numb to care anymore. There was a dreadful squeezing inside her
chest, and she found it hard to breathe. He did not love her. He had never
loved her.
"Emily!
Confound it . . . Emily!"
She
wanted to call to him, but every fiber in her being warned against it. He would
see her heart exposed like that of a wounded puppy. How droll for him to be her
protector until her brothers found a suitable husband. She decided to ride to
London immediately, relieving herself of his presence.
"Emily,"
he shouted again, but she let the crowd push her farther and farther away. Her
cloak was pulled to and fro, and she drifted like a boat without a sail in the
sea of people.
More
flaming torches seemed to be added to the juggling partners. The flames
whooshed through the air with fiery streaks of red, snapping small sparks into
the crowd.
"Add
another torch!" someone cried.
"Light
the purple boa!"
The
clamor of the people hammered into Emily's ears. A hard shove sent her flying
into another man. Her head snapped back, and she thought she saw Jared coming
toward her. Suddenly, awakened to the danger surrounding her, she fell to the
ground in pain, trying to fend off the people above her. Before she could shout
for help, there was a sharp jab to her stomach.
And then
it happened. The most frightening word she would ever hear in an already
maddened crowd. "Fire!"
Chapter Six
M
iss Agatha Appleby's pink-and-white-striped
bonnet bobbed up and down as she took a seat on a small barrel of ale located
inside one of the vendors' tents. She unbuttoned her matching cloak, grabbed
the mug beside her, and bent down, siphoning a bit of the brew to replace what
she had already drunk.
"I
daresay, Jane"—she picked up a steaming meat pie with her free hand and took
a bite—"is this not the most delightful pie you have ever had?"
Garbed
in a black velvet cloak, Jane leaned against a tent pole, her lips twisting
into a pleased smile. "You say those exact words about every meat pie,
Aunt Agatha. I recall when my parents brought me to my last fair. I will never
forget the sweet scent of hot cross buns."
A sad
look crossed her face, and she shook her head. "Speaking of food, Emily
must be famished."
"Fustian,
child. The girl is fine." Agatha took another bite of her meat pie. "Believe
me, those two children need to work out their differences."
Jane
pushed off the pole and laughed. "I would not call Cousin Jared a
child."
Agatha
slowly raised her head, her eyebrows lifting suggestively. "And neither is
our Emily, dear."
Jane's
eyes went wide. "You are not implying that Emily and my guardian are
engaged?"
"Engaged,
no. Smitten, yes."
"You
think there was something to that incident today."
"No,
no, my dear," Agatha replied, shaking her head. "That was totally
innocent. But what is not innocent is Emily's eyes when she watches my nephew
walk into the room."
Jane
pursed her lips, surprised. "I was only making a jest about them before.
He is—"
"He
is a man first, Jane," Agatha said. "A man with a heart that needs
softening."
"But
Cousin Jared never seems to need anybody. Oh, I know he cares for me, but he is
so much more reserved than the young man I knew when I was a child." Jane
frowned as more people began to gather near the tent and the noisy display of
the vendors grew louder.
Agatha
pointed to the other side of the street near the stables. "Come, Jane.
Over there. There will be less noise."
Jane
grabbed the rest of the meat pies on the barrel and followed the older lady's
lead across the graveled thoroughfare.
"We
will be heading to Town for the Season soon." Agatha's black parasol
crunched against the stones as she walked. Jane stood as the elder lady took
her seat on a small wooden bench outside the stables.
"The
duchess did say Emily could stay with us in London, did she not?" Jane
asked.
"No,
not precisely, my dear. It is her brother whom we will have to ask. On that
point, I am not certain if Emily will be allowed to go with us at all."
Jane
frowned, taking a seat beside Agatha. "And pray, why not? What reason
would this brother of hers have to deny Emily the Season?"
"Her
brother, the duke, my dear, is a very powerful man, and it seems that our Emily
is the catch of the Season with her inheritance and her dowry. Her brothers
have grand plans to find her a respectable husband of the ton, and believe it
or not, while they are in the process of this grand feat, I do believe your
guardian has been appointed Emily's protector without the lady the wiser."
"Her
protector?" Jane shrieked, standing abruptly. "You mean to say her
brothers have hired Cousin Jared to watch over Emily?" Jane suddenly
laughed. "Goodness, Emily will be quite vexed when she uncovers the
harebrained plot."
"Quite
so, Jane. Quite so." The crowd was becoming more boisterous by the second,
and Agatha frowned. "I am having the London townhouse refurbished, so we
will be staying elsewhere, I fear. I will have to rent a house."
Jane
folded her hands across her lap. "Emily's brothers must have many eligible
friends for her to choose from, so perhaps it will be an interesting
Season."
"I
fear you did not comprehend my meaning, dear. Emily will not be choosing her
husband. Her brothers have that honor."
"Her
brothers?" Jane's face grew pale. "But they cannot do that. Emily
should make the choice of her husband."
"Nevertheless,
it seems her brothers have decided to protect her from a host of greedy suitors
by choosing for her. That is the sole reason she was allowed to come to
Hemmingly. It seems her suitors have gone so far as to hunt her down at
Elbourne Hall."
Agatha
looked suspiciously around. "And I tell you this, with the utmost
confidence, Jane." She lowered her voice. "I have it straight from
the duchess that one of Emily's suitors was found breaking into her bedchambers
. . . through her window."
Jane
clapped her hands together and bubbled with laughter. "How very
romantic."
Agatha
sighed. "Not when Emily's four brothers took the intruder by surprise and
the gentleman in question fainted at the poor girl's feet."
"No?"
Jane gasped in horror.
Agatha
nodded. "Yes, indeed, my dear. So, I implore you not to bother that pretty
mind of yours in defending poor Emily against her four brothers. They are
powerful men, set and determined to find Emily a husband. Depend upon it,
child, very few can undermine any plans those four gentlemen set out to
do."
Jane's
chin lifted in defiance. "Goodness, you of all people should know that I
am not afraid of four men. We must help Emily this Season. It is our Christian
duty. I will die before I let her brothers assign her to prison the rest of her
life."
"Oh,
Jane," Agatha sighed. "I fear it may be hopeless. You do not know the
duke."
"It
is not hopeless. I believe with Emily's help, we can forge a great
alliance." Jane continued talking, but Agatha was not listening. She
immediately stood, her wary gaze falling on a black glossy carriage parked on
the outskirts of the village.
"What
is it?" Jane asked, rising from her seat.
"My
word, this is most untimely. Most untimely, indeed." The carriage door
opened and Agatha grabbed her parasol. "Who would have thought he would
show up today of all days? He must have stopped at Hemmingly. No doubt he
accompanied the duchess, and she is settling in at Hemmingly as we speak."
Jane's
eyes darted down the street, her eyes fixing on the black coach and four.
"Who?"
"Goodness,
Jane. That is the Duke of Elbourne's crest. I believe its owner has come to
call."
Jane's
eyes constricted into two slits of rage. "You mean the knave who is
treating our dear Emily as if this were the Middle Ages and she were mere
chattel?"
"Hold
your tongue, my girl."
A tall,
broad-shouldered gentleman, dressed in a well-fitted blue jacket, dark brown
pantaloons, and a pair of freshly polished Hessians, strode in their direction.
"That
is no ordinary gentleman, Jane. He must not be agitated on Emily's behalf.
There are other ways around situations such as these."
Jane's
lips thinned. "Indeed there are."
Agatha
welcomed the duke and made the introductions. "Miss Greenwell, His Grace,
Lord Elbourne, Emily’s brother."
Jane
glanced up, put out her white-gloved hand, and gave the man a smile that would
melt the most unyielding of kings.
The
handsome duke inclined his dark head, grinned, and took her hand, bringing it
to within an inch of his lips. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss
Greenwell."
Jane was
not a vain lady, but she knew her blue eyes and dark lashes were some of her
better features, and she batted her eyelids like butterfly wings, sending the
duke's eyebrows arching with interest as she pulled her hand back to her side.
"Delighted?"
Jane gave him her sweetest, most innocent smile. "I fear I cannot say the
same, Your Grace, since you are the odious barbarian who is to put our dear
Emily into prison."
The
crowd swarmed around the town square. Cheers and curses filled the air as the
juggler tossed the fire back and forth to his scantily clad partner.
Jared
looked at the back of Emily's head and swallowed hard, trying to manage a
feeble excuse, anything to stop her from crying. He had acted in the most cowardly
manner a gentleman could act. What reasoning had taken hold of his senses the
past few minutes when he'd told her he had no wish to be coerced into a marriage
with her? Did he believe making Emily hate him would change their past? He
never deserved her, and proof of that was in the woman's tears that she so desperately
tried to hide.
A sudden
uneasiness swept through him when he noticed the size of the unruly crowd crushing
in on them. "Emily." His plea was for naught when she took a step to
her left. "Emily! Confound it!" The blasted female was avoiding him.
His
heart began to pound as he shoved through the crowd, trying to keep her head in
his line of sight. "Out of my way! Here now, move aside! Let me
through!"
But the
more he pushed, the farther she fell from view. Alarm raced through him when he
thought he saw her cloak torn from her person. Devil take it, some protector he
was!
"Emily!"
He continued to call her name, but could no longer see her. He glanced at the
circle of entertainment and grew more alarmed. Sparks flew into the crowd and
struck near the haystacks at the sides of the street. Idiotic fools. Could they
not see that the entire place would go up in smoke if any one of the torches
were thrown the wrong way?
"Em!
Answer me!" The only answer he received made his stomach knot with fear.
"Fire!"
someone cried, and all hell broke loose.
Roderick
raised his right brow and glared at Jane. "Why, pray tell, would I want to
put my sister in prison, madam?"
Jane
folded her arms across her velvet cloak and glared back. "You, Your Grace,
are a monster."
Agatha
gave Jane a nervous smile and stood between her and the grim-faced duke.
"My, my, Your Grace, I had no idea you were coming to visit today. Lady
Emily is taking in the jugglers over there." She pointed her parasol in
the direction of the riotous crowd beyond.
Roderick
shifted his interested gaze from Jane to the mob. He muttered an oath, his eyes
simmering with anger. "Do not tell me that Emily is in that gathering of
whooping men?"
Agatha
frowned as she took in the frenzied movement of the crowd. "I assure you,
it was not like that minutes ago. Jared is with her."
"She
might have been better off with Fennington," he said, growling.
"Now,
now," Agatha called, scurrying behind him as he strode toward the melee.
"I assure you, Emily is in good hands."
Roderick
stopped and turned on his heels, his jaw taut, his eyes black. "Good
hands?"
Agatha
stared at the duke. "A poor choice of words perhaps."
The mad
roar of the panicking crowd stopped Roderick from saying any more. All three
looked up to see the billowing smoke.
"Fire!"
Jane screamed.
"Move!"
Roderick grabbed both ladies by their elbows and quickly shoved them out of
harm's way toward his carriage.
"But
Emily's in there somewhere," Jane said in horror as Roderick dragged her
across the street. Gravel and dirt kicked up in their wake.
"You
have no need to worry about your sister," Agatha protested with a frown as
she was lifted by the duke and placed inside his carriage. "I am certain
Jared is with her. He would never leave her."
"Certain
is not good enough, Agatha," Roderick growled. "She may be killed in
that hellish bedlam."
"What
about my carriage and my footmen?" Agatha asked, clearly shaken by the
strange turn of events.
"Leave
them to me," he said quickly, and spun around to deposit Jane as well.
But to
his shock, Miss Jane Greenwell had disappeared. His keen gaze darted about the
street, and he cursed. The harebrained female was hastily running back toward
the frenzied crowd, her velvet cloak billowing like a flag to be burned.
"Get
back here, woman!"
Jane
glanced over her shoulder, her head lifted in haughty disdain. "Do not
dictate to me, Your Grace. Pray, I will find Emily faster than you can give an
order."
Roderick's
shoulders strained against his jacket as he started for her. In six quick
strides he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her back to his carriage.
Ranting and raving, Jane let out a gasp of surprise when she was dislodged onto
the floorboard of his carriage with a gigantic thud.
"I
beg your pardon!" she uttered, pushing herself back up on her elbows.
Roderick
glanced over her with an indolent eye. "You may beg my pardon another
time, Miss Greenwell. Another time, indeed." He gave her no time to
respond as he clapped the door closed and yelled to the driver, "Get a
move on, man!"