"I
heard you."
"And?"
"I
cannot in good conscience let Emily out there with that man."
"And
pray tell, why not?"
"Because."
"Because
you took Miss Jane Greenwell out there over an hour ago and you kissed
her?"
Roderick
looked up, momentarily speechless. "I—"
"What's
good for the goose is good for the gander."
Roderick
rubbed his hand against his jaw in confusion. "What the devil are you
talking about, Mother?"
"Do
not take that tone of voice with me, Roderick."
"Good
evening again, Duchess." Wellington's baritone voice penetrated the family
gathering.
"Ah,
good evening," the duchess replied graciously. "You are familiar with
my sons Clayton and Marcus?"
Wellington
smiled. "They served me well at Waterloo. And I hear your youngest son
served as well." The man was introduced to Stephen.
"And
my eldest?" the duchess replied.
"We
have met before." Wellington's eyes twinkled.
"Yes,
before Waterloo," Roderick said as they shook hands.
"I
hear Lord Stonebridge is about?" Wellington raised an inquiring brow at
Roderick's two swollen eyes as if knowing the man in question had produced the
damage to the young duke.
"Indeed,"
Roderick said, crinkling his brow. "At the moment, though, I cannot seem
to place him."
Chapter
Twelve
M
iss Susan Wimble stood in the green
room of Garrick Hall, her small white hands clenched at her sides. "You
have no right to pay attention to that woman when I am your fiancée."
"No
right?" Jared replied angrily. "How is it that I have no right when
you have been paying attention to your so-called cousin in the country who is
your third cousin once removed and very, very male."
Susan
stiffened in response, then in a heartbeat she was as soft as silk.
"Darling, we must not fight. I was just so jealous when I saw that
girl."
Jared
ground his teeth. "She is not a girl. She is a woman."
Susan
flitted her hand in the air, then slid her palms up his chest. "Whatever you
say, darling. Are we going to announce our engagement tonight?"
Jared
wrapped his hands around her wrists, pushing her away. "There will be no
announcement."
The lady
forced out her lower lip like a ten-year-old child. "But you said after
the Season was over."
"I
said we would have this time as a grace period to work out the details. But it
seems one little detail is yet to be worked out."
The lady
wiggled her curvaceous body alongside him. "One little detail should not
stop us."
"It
might," he said, clenching his mouth tighter as he held her away.
"Well
then, what detail are we talking about?"
Jared
felt his patience waning as Susan plopped down on the chair that Emily had been
sitting in only minutes ago. He watched in amazement as the lady began to fiddle
with her nails.
"Oh,
look at that." She looked up and held her hand in the air, showing off her
ripped fingernail. "I believe I tore this one on the fireplace before I
came to the ball. Father was in such a hurry, you know."
Jared
barely listened to the lady's incessant chatter. His stomach twisted with guilt
as he recalled Emily's pale face and lifeless eyes. He had hurt her deeply.
Again.
"I
have come to a decision," he said, staring down at Susan.
The
woman looked up, smiling. "You will make the announcement tonight,"
she squealed and jumped up. "I knew it. Oh, I knew you would."
Jared
was caught off guard when she pressed her lips to his. He immediately released
her. "Stop it."
Her eyes
began to glitter with tears. Jared would have cringed with guilt, but it was
the best acting he had seen since Drury Lane.
"What
is it, darling?" she asked pursing her cherry red lips. "Is it my
perfume?"
Jared
wanted to make this as easy as possible. In his heart he knew he had decided a
long time ago not to marry this woman. Emily only solidified his choice.
"I
cannot marry you, Susan."
Long
thick lashes flew upward in shock. "You cannot marry me or you will not
marry me?"
"Both."
"I
see," she said with narrowed eyes. "And does this have anything to do
with that silly halfwit who was in here moments ago?"
Amber
eyes battled with blue, and Jared wondered what insanity had led him to ever
consider marrying this black-hearted witch. Her question did not even deserve
an answer.
"Then
let me tell you one thing, my lord." The lady sauntered toward the door
and glanced over a creamy white shoulder. "Had it not been for your
sizable wealth, I can guarantee I never would have looked at you twice. And as
for children," she laughed, "I would never have had your heir. You
can take my word for that. I would never have taken the chance of having a
child born to me and lose my precious figure. So good riddance to you. Mayhap I
should work on the duke." With those last words she was gone.
The
chilly air nipped at Emily's neck as she sat on the stone bench with Lord
Bringston. His profile was strong, yet boyish. His dark hair held a hint of
gray at the temples, and she felt safe with him. But he was not Jared.
She
stifled the sob that rose in her throat and looked down the path. "My brothers
have spoken to you?"
The
marquess took off his black jacket, wrapping it about her shoulders. "Yes,
you are a beautiful woman, Lady Emily. I would be a fool not to take them
seriously."
"I
see, my lord."
"Call
me, William," he whispered, turning her cheek.
She
gazed into warm brown eyes and felt a gentleness in this man that touched her
deeply. Though she would never love him like Jared, she began to think that perhaps
her brothers were right after all. Perhaps they had chosen wisely.
"Why
have you not married?" she asked boldly.
He
looked up at the trees where the dappled moonlight played against his tender
expression. A soft wind ruffled his hair.
"I
will be honest with you, Lady Emily," he sighed and glanced toward the chandeliers
that lighted the ballroom, "I fell in love once. The woman was four years
older than I, and her father forbid us to wed. A short time afterward, she was
married. By now she has all but forgotten me."
"But
you were a wealthy marquess? Who could deny you?"
"I
was but seventeen."
"Seventeen
... I see." Emily looked up at the moon and frowned. It was large and
luminous—everything her heart was not. "I was seventeen when my father
turned down one of my suitors as well. Believe what you will, but my brothers
could never make me wed a man I had no wish to marry."
Lord
Bringston took her hand in his. His grip was warm and gentle, like her
father's. The more she thought about it, the more she began to realize her
father probably thought her a mere child when Jared had called on him. Yet her
father's rejection still hurt.
"I
need an heir, Emily. Though my brother is next in line, he is not wed, and at
this point, never plans to be. I cannot claim to love you because my heart has
always belonged to someone else, but I can assure you, I will be faithful to
you and provide for you always."
He knelt
down before her, bringing her hand to his lips.
"I
know our age difference may cause you to worry over an uncertain future, but I
am in good health, and in time, I believe we will come to trust and respect one
another. So, alas, dear lady, I am asking you to be my wife. If you wish, we
can look upon it as a marriage of convenience. These things are done all the
time."
Emily
lowered her eyes. Two proposals in one night. One true. One false. "I do
not know what to say."
"Pray,
do not give me your response now. Take some time to think about it. I will give
you two weeks and wait for your reply."
Emily
was too dazed by his immediate proposal to decline his offer. She parted her
lips to speak, but he stopped her by placing his finger lightly to her cheek.
"It is best that we return now. I am certain your brothers are scouring
the grounds for you." His gray eyes sparkled with mischief.
Emily's
lips slowly curved into a beguiling smile, followed by a bubbling laugh as they
headed back toward the ballroom. "They are arrogant little devils, are
they not, my lord?"
Lord
Bringston patted her hand and chuckled. "Being four of them, my dear, and
one of me, I believe they can be anything they want."
Emily
smiled at him. He was not a bore as she had once thought he would be, but a
true delight. Her slippers crunched slightly over the walkway as they approached
the French doors to the ballroom. "But tell me, you are handsome enough,
and wealthy enough, why have you chosen to marry me? You could have married
anyone you wanted."
Lord
Bringston looked beyond the crowd and sighed. "Do not take this as an
insult, my dear, but I decided that it was time to marry and you are as close
to my true love as I will ever come. I hope that does not offend you."
Emily
paused, clasping his hand in a warm embrace. "I am honored. Thank you for
telling me the truth." Emily knew that this man would treat her with all
the respect and kindness she could ever ask for. He would give her everything
but his heart, because his belonged to another, and so did hers.
Jared's
black shoes slapped the Garrick hallway in an even, unhurried manner as he
strode from the green room toward the ball. He had waited a good amount of time
to take his leave until he knew Miss Susan Wimble was safely out of his
immediate vicinity. The torment he had seen in Emily's eyes had severed his
soul, but he intended to set everything straight soon enough. Perhaps a bouquet
of golden daffodils would give him an edge. She had always loved those
Wordsworth poems . . .
"Jared,
or should I say, Lord Stonebridge."
The
familiar voice reverberated in Jared's brain, and he turned, startled to see
Wellington standing a few feet away. Beside the noted hero stood Roderick, half
in the shadows of the white pillar just inside the ballroom.
"Evening,
gentlemen," Jared replied calmly, wanting to leave their presence and
search the dance floor for any sign of Emily.
"Looking
for someone?" Wellington asked with a laugh as he slapped Jared kindly on
the back. "Or should I say some special lady from the looks of you?"
He raised a discriminating brow in the direction of the dance floor. "Lost
in the sea of eligible beaux I take it."
Jared
smiled, feeling every dagger from Roderick's snapping eyes. "I am afraid
you have caught me, sir. I am indeed looking for someone special."
After a
few minutes of polite conversation, Jared made his excuses and strode toward
Agatha and Jane.
"Have
you seen Lady Emily?"
Agatha
scowled. "I sent you into the hall to look for her. What happened?"
Jared
watched the parasol twitch in the lady's hand, and he took a step back. "I
do believe I lost track of her, and I did promise her one more dance."
"Three
dances?" Jane clapped her fan closed. "Truly, Cousin Jared. Do not
think me a simpleton."
"Simpleton?"
Jared asked as he straightened his waistcoat. "Why the devil does everyone
suppose I believe them simpletons?"
"That
is beside the point, my boy," Agatha said, glowering at him as she nibbled
on a small crumb cake.
Jared
smothered a groan. "Have you seen her?"
"The
question is," Jane said lowering her voice, "have we seen you?"
Jared
tried to mask his irritation by putting on a calm face. "Me?"
Jane's
eyebrows rose in disgust. "Yes, you."
"Come
clear with me, Jane. What precisely do you mean?"
Agatha
dabbed her lips with her napkin. "Our dear Jane is trying to tell you that
we both eyed Miss Susan Wimble coming and going from the ballroom. One could
only assume that with your absence during those times"—the older lady shrugged,
looking beyond the bright chandeliers toward the entrance—"well, as you
can see, dear boy, one thought evidently leads to another."
Frustration
took hold of Jared's mind. "Mere assumptions, I assure you. I am not
engaged to Miss Susan Wimble. So if you would be so kind as to point me in the
direction of Lady Emily, I would be ever so grateful."
Jane
folded her hands across her chest. "Grateful? Hmphh."
Jared
glared at his aunt, feeling a vein throbbing in his neck. "Agatha?"
The
older lady's eyes flashed with pure annoyance as she lifted her parasol,
pointing it in the direction of the French doors. "Keep looking and you
may see your future going up in a puff of smoke."
A
familiar laugh suddenly filtered over the music, drifting past the leaves of a
large fig tree blocking part of the French doors. Jared ate up the floor toward
the opening and stopped cold as a smiling couple emerged, stepping into the
room—Emily and Lord Bringston. Except for the marquess's age, Jared knew the
man was perfect for her.
"Lady
Emily." Jared nodded curtly. "Bringston."
"Stonebridge,"
the marquess answered coolly.
Before
Jared was allowed to say another word, Emily’s voice broke into his thoughts.
"Forgive me, Lord Stonebridge, but Lord Bringston was about to escort me home.
I have suddenly developed a dreadful headache and need to take my leave. Would
you be so kind as to excuse us?"
Jared's
eyes clung to Emily's flushed face.
Emily
bit her lip.
Bringston
frowned, looking from Stonebridge to Emily, then back again. "Forgive us,
Stonebridge. But we must take our leave; the lady did mention a headache."
Bringston took hold of Emily's arm and escorted her across the room.
Jared
paused, fighting the urge to take Bringston apart limb by limb. A flicker of
apprehension took over his thoughts as he strode after them. Was Emily truly thinking
about marrying the marquess?
"Ah,
friend, so good to see you again," Clayton said, gripping Jared's shoulder
in an iron hold.