by Mary Brendan
‘Heavens! She remembers you,’ Mrs Booth gasped. ‘Dawn told me Mrs Sweet was so very nice and friendly to you both, but I’ve been disappointed not to receive my own card. It was my influence that secured Dawn that invitation, I’m sure.’
Emma knew differently and felt her cheeks heating as the memory of what had occurred that afternoon infiltrated her mind. While Mrs Booth continued chattering about her ambition to be Mrs Sweet’s friend, Emma watched the strolling couple. Dawn and Jack had managed to gain quite a start on them. Emma had felt reassured on meeting Jack again. He seemed an open character. Perhaps later she’d get a chance to chat to him properly and find out more about his feelings for Dawn. If she had to speak out of turn then she would, rather than see her best friend bamboozled by a rogue.
‘Oh, look who has arrived. I would sooner see that fine gentleman pay attention to Dawn,’ Mrs Booth lamented with such feeling that Emma again took heed of what she was saying. ‘But he can have his pick of dukes’ daughters when he decides to settle down whereas his friend must fortune hunt for a bride. There can be no future for Dawn with Mr Valance unless he improves his prospects.’
An investigative glance Mrs Sweet’s way caused Emma to emit an involuntary gulp, quickly smothered by a cough. The Earl of Houndsmere was leading a beautiful pale-flanked horse towards his sister’s carriage...while staring directly at them.
‘Oh, goodness! He also remembers you!’ Mrs Booth hissed as his lordship’s gaze remained turned in their direction. ‘If you smile, my dear, he might come over. I should so like an introduction.’ She nudged Emma in the ribs.
Emma’s eyes veered away from him. She did indeed want to talk to Lance Harley...but not here in public. What she had to say should be uttered behind closed doors...if she ever found the resolve to begin that conversation.
‘Dawn will wonder where we’ve got to.’ Emma sounded calm despite suffering the sensation of a sardonic stare boring into her profile. ‘Let’s go and meet them by the lake.’
‘But we cannot move on now! He is coming over and Mrs Sweet is with him.’ Julia tugged Emma backwards as she would have set off towards the path.
‘How very nice to see you again, Miss Waverley,’ Ruth said with a warm smile.
‘It’s nice to see you, too, ma’am.’ Emma bobbed politely. ‘Might I introduce you to Mrs Booth?’ she quickly added, having received another prod from her companion.
The polite formalities over with, Ruth gave her brother a twinkling smile. ‘I imagine you remember the Earl of Houndsmere, Miss Waverley. I believe you strolled with him in my garden.’
‘Yes, of course...’ Emma murmured, executing a small bob in his direction. Well, she’d wanted to distract Dawn’s nemesis so her friend could escape. She’d managed to do so in some style, Emma realised, feeling quite hysterical. Julia seemed about to swoon in pleasure and hadn’t once looked to see where her future stepdaughter had got to.
Everybody was watching them. Passing carriages were slowing down, promenading couples were bumping into one another as they keenly observed what was going on.
‘I think I’ve spotted Jack Valance and your friend up ahead.’ Lance had thrust his hands into his pockets and was staring into the distance. ‘Shall we catch up with them, Miss Waverley?’
Before Emma could formulate a polite reply in the negative Ruth spoke. ‘While the young people tire themselves out walking, let me introduce you to my children, Mrs Booth.’ She took a plump elbow, steering a beaming Julia over the grass.
‘I find your high-handedness rather too much!’ Emma said in a suffocated hiss. He had hold of her wrist and was leading her in the opposite direction.
‘And I find your guile rather too much,’ he returned in an equally flinty tone. ‘So we have lots to talk about.’
‘Please explain what you mean by that.’ Emma imagined she already knew what he meant, but waited with bated breath for his answer.
‘Why didn’t you mention that my stepsister and your brother are not only in cahoots, but lovers?’
So there it was...out in the open. And though her heart felt as though it might batter its way from between her ribs there was also a modicum of relief in the knowledge that she need no longer be tortured by the imminence of him unearthing that secret. There was nothing left for him to discover...unless he hadn’t yet located the couple. But she suspected he had, even if he hadn’t yet been to Rowley Street to confront them.
‘Are you going to answer me?’
‘Yes... I’ll answer you. I knew I didn’t have to tell you about Robin and Augusta. I knew that before long you would find out for yourself, because nothing escapes you, does it, my lord?’ She sounded bitterly resigned to his victory.
‘I think perhaps you might, Miss Waverley.’
His harsh self-mockery made her glance up at him.
‘Indeed, I shall try to if you don’t turn about, sir. I thought we were to meet our friends.’ She had believed they were to head to the lake; instead, he was traversing the greensward at an angle, his pace steadily increasing in the direction of a copse.
‘We have unfinished business that needs to be dealt with somewhere private.’
Emma valiantly kept up with his long stride, her small fingers fidgeting beneath his cool palm, settled on top of them on his arm. But he was unrelenting until they reached the shelter of the trees, then he immediately set her free. He walked away from her a few paces before pivoting on a heel and assessing her with a pair of deep blue eyes. ‘Don’t look so terrified. I have no designs on your virtue...leastways not in Hyde Park in the middle of the afternoon.’
‘I’m not scared of you.’ Emma elevated her chin to a proud angle, her stare clashing with his.
‘That’s a good start at least.’
His cruel-looking mouth softened into a smile as his gaze slowly roamed over her, making Emma feel unbearably hot. He never leered at her in the way that Joshua Gresham did. But she was just as aware of Lance Harley’s desire for her body. Joshua turned her stomach, but the pull of attraction between her and this man was so strong that it seemed to solidify the atmosphere, making it hard for her to breathe. Only a short while ago she hadn’t known the Earl of Houndsmere existed. Now when she was out she was watching for him, longing, yet dreading to meet him by chance again as she had on the day she’d sold her locket. Today that had happened. And that first glimpse of him had been enough to start butterflies dancing in her stomach.
‘Have you thought about my offer of assistance?’
‘I’ve thought of little else,’ she admitted. There was no point in pretence. It was too late for any of that.
Her honesty made his smile deepen. ‘And?’
‘And...now that you know about your stepsister’s involvement with Robin, will you still be prepared to help him?’
‘Help him escape the minx, you mean?’ he asked.
Emma wasn’t sure what to make of that. He’d sounded scathing of his stepsister, but not because she had shackled herself to a coalman. Rather the other way around, as though her brother were the one deserving of pity. At first she’d been flustered to be unexpectedly brought face-to-face with him. Now she was coming to understand that this might be a perfect opportunity to agree to a plan of action with him...if he were amenable to co-operating. Her father would be so content if she could return home and tell him that the Earl wanted to get involved in remedying the situation affecting both their families.
She sighed, gesturing her sorrow as a prelude to a frank discussion. ‘What a mess it is for us all!’
‘You have a nice way with understatement, my dear.’
He’d sounded sarcastic, which wasn’t surprising, or auspicious, but she persevered in hoping that this conversation could bear fruit. ‘Have you been to their lodging to speak to them?’ She took a few tentative steps closer to him.
‘Have you?’ he countered.
>
She nodded. ‘I saw them recently and warned them you would soon catch up with them.’
‘To give them a chance to abscond elsewhere?’
‘Yes...if that’s what they want to do.’
He shook his head, mouthing an oath, before saying to the branches swaying above his head, ‘God in heaven, you’re a child, Emma, no matter your age.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ she snapped indignantly as her cheeks flamed. So being candid had gained her nothing but his disapproval.
‘I mean that you’re old enough to know better and this game has to stop.’
‘It might be a game to you,’ she stormed, ‘but to us it is deadly serious. My father is ill with worry over it and has no way to put things right. How dare you say it is a game to us!’ She marched right up to him, tawny eyes afire. ‘It is you who think it all sport...who think me sport.’ Her vision became blurred by angry tears.
‘You’re wrong. I don’t...’
She slapped away the hand he stretched towards her, turning her back on him. ‘Of course you do. I’m nothing to you...just an opportunity there to be taken. My family’s nothing to you. Your own family is nothing to you. Even knowing that your stepsister is enduring hardship in a slum while increasing with child hasn’t moved you...’ She bit her lip and swung back, seeing immediately that he hadn’t known that.
‘Is she indeed?’ He grunted a sour laugh. ‘That might complicate the matter of an annulment if indeed the marriage is valid or has yet taken place.’
‘Whether it has or hasn’t, an annulment matters little because Augusta vows to stay with him. She loves my brother and he loves her.’
‘Poor fool...if she is anything like her mother he won’t for long.’
His cynicism infuriated her into rashness. ‘Well, you would know about her mother, wouldn’t you? It is a shame that I didn’t realise at once what sort of a degenerate you are or I would never have accepted a ride home with you on that first night. I’d sooner have fended for myself against those men.’ She immediately regretted having blurted that out. She had acted childishly now. Worse still, she had sounded like a jealous shrew...a rival for his affections. And she wasn’t, she inwardly impressed on herself. His stepmother and his other women were welcome to him. She didn’t want him...and she’d never fall in love with him. Their relationship must remain purely business and any rogue emotion disturbing her when he was around must be mercilessly quashed. No more silly fantasy of growing closer and sharing their worries.
He was walking towards her. Outwardly, he didn’t seem angry, yet something bad was blackening the colour of his eyes, making her backpace with his advance.
‘Who told you about that?’ His query sounded idle as though her reply was of scant interest.
But it wasn’t; as she felt the bole of a tree behind she tried to shift aside, but he rammed a fist on bark, barring her way. ‘Who told you about that?’ he repeated.
‘Let me pass,’ Emma requested coolly. ‘I thought we might talk sensibly about troubles besetting our families, but I see now that is impossible. I want to join my friends.’
‘And so you shall after you’ve answered me. Did Augusta mention that I’d been in a relationship with her mother?’
‘Yes, she did.’
‘It was a long time ago... I was eighteen and shamefully naive...’
‘You need not explain to me.’
‘I’m aware of that. But you wouldn’t have brought it up unless keen to know more about it.’
‘I think your conceit has misled you, my lord. I have no interest in any of your sordid liaisons. Now let me pass,’ she demanded, her voice wobbly. Whenever he was this close to her she felt tempted to sway in his direction. She yearned to have his warmth and the rock-like strength of his body pressing into hers. The memory of how he had made her feel when he kissed and touched her kept her awake at night, too aware of her patched cotton nightdress scraping her skin. She had skimmed her fingers over her own body in the way he had touched her while wishing the hand to be his...firmer, more insistent than her own.
She jerked her mind from the drugging memory and turned towards freedom. Before she could escape he’d planted his other hand on the oak, imprisoning her. Grabbing at his forearm, she attempted to physically remove him, but achieved nothing other than him flexing the muscle she’d dug her fingernails into. She flung her spine against the tree trunk, then glared up at him. She realised she shouldn’t have done that...shouldn’t have made lengthy eye contact at all, let alone in a way that challenged him. Before she could break their gazes he’d moved closer, his thighs grazing her pelvis and his weight pressing her back against wood. He untied her bonnet, letting it drop to the earth. His mouth lowered, so slowly that she knew he was giving her time to avoid him, but she couldn’t summon the willpower. Already, her lashes were fluttering low, her breathing slowing in anticipation of his lips touching hers.
Why had Simon never kissed her like this was a phrase that wailed in her head. She had been in love with him, yet had never been treated with such tenderness that it felt as though her bones might melt. Never before had she deliciously shivered beneath male fingers trailing her nape, her collarbone, her ears, every available exposed part of skin, while a careful onslaught of caressing lips and teasing tongue on her mouth made her sigh at its seductive sweetness. In her fevered state she believed she might crumple to the ground if he stopped what he was doing. You’re losing your mind, she told herself, and, drawing a shuddering breath from his mouth, she forced her hands between them.
For a moment she was sure he would let her go. The long fingers that he’d thrust into her hair withdrew to curve over her fragile shoulders. Their mouths unsealed, his tongue tip lightly trailing her lower lip as though in parting salutation. Then his mouth was back on hers, hot and hard. This was no subtle wooing but blatant carnality and the more she twisted her face to free it, the more erotic the assault became. He pulled the pins from her hair so ebony silk coated one of his hands while the other breached her cloak, caressing with skilful sensuality over her hips and breasts, teasing and tantalising the flesh swelling beneath his touch. Finally, he lifted his head to look at her.
Two small palms flattened against the muscles in his chest, then pushed. She put the back of her hand against her throbbing mouth. ‘I can tell you are a practised seducer. There’s no further need to prove that to me.’
‘Am I? Well, you could have fooled me. So what suits you? How did Simon Gresham win you over?’
‘He gave me his heart, that’s what he did!’ she cried in outrage and one of her small hands arced up to crack against his face. She knew he could have stopped her if he’d wanted to but he allowed her to hit him, simply turning with the blow that left an imprint of her fingers on a lean cheek.
‘He gave you his heart, did he?’ he mimicked with brutal mockery. ‘It’s a damn shame he didn’t give you his honesty before he bedded you at a tavern on the Great North Road.’
‘He did not! He wasn’t like you! He was a decent man and treated me with respect and consideration.’
‘That’s good to know.’ He pushed himself off the wood, swooped on her bonnet, handed it to her then walked away and stood with his back to her. ‘Decent men don’t commit bigamy with unsuspecting virgins, Emma.’
She winced beneath the undeniable truth in that and, though she longed to retaliate, she couldn’t find the words. With trembling fingers, she located a single pin still fixed at her nape and did her best to neaten her hair.
‘Do you pine for him still?’
For a moment she wondered if she’d misheard him. What did he care if she still had a broken heart? Perhaps his ego couldn’t bear rivals, even if they were ghosts. ‘It’s none of your business,’ was all she said and rammed her bonnet back on her crown to conceal her dishevelled locks.
A moment later he turned to her. ‘Come... I�
��ll take you back to the others now.’
So he wanted to go, did he? He’d lost interest in the game because he thought he’d bested her and there were no more kisses to be had. Well, she wasn’t ready to go! He might have started this today, but she would finish it. When he walked towards her she blocked his way this time. And when he reached out to draw her into his arms, believing she’d come to him in surrender, she slapped his hands down. Her small fingers could only partway encircle his sinewy wrists, but she did her best to anchor them at his sides so he couldn’t touch her.
‘You will listen to me,’ she whispered to the sapphire pinned in his neckcloth. It resembled his eyes so she gazed over his shoulder instead. ‘You might think you may treat me as you want, but you will not. I’m not your stepmother, or your Jenny or any other of your fancy women. Nor will I ever be.’ She paused, her throat throbbing with tension. She’d been expecting him to step past her, pulling her with him once he realised she’d arrested him for no pleasurable reason. But he didn’t. He stood quite still, his body a hair’s breadth from hers and his hands where she had them pinned. Abruptly, she released him and took two hasty backward paces.
She raised her eyes, but his expression was inscrutable. She couldn’t tell if he considered her impudent, or pitiable. Or even if he felt some amusement for the way she’d stood up to him. She believed what Augusta had said about few people crossing the Earl of Houndsmere. He was used to people kowtowing to him, not telling him truths about himself. And they were truths, she realised, as a flicker of some emotion twisted his mouth. He didn’t look guilty, but he looked thoughtful.
‘Are you going to spoil what little happiness your stepsister has found with my brother? Are you going to hound them until the strain of it all makes them turn on one another?’
‘Augusta is no sweet innocent and will go her own way whatever I do.’
‘I’m not surprised she is no sweet innocent. How could she be with you and her mother colouring her life? What shining example has she had to follow when growing up? Given what she has been through, I’m surprised she is as lovely as she is. You may mock her, but with a callous libertine for a stepbrother and a mother who rarely has time for her I think she has turned out remarkably well. How lonely and sad she must have felt and little wonder she yearns to find some company with strangers. You should admire Augusta. I do. And I like her. Before you condemn her, or my brother, or me for that matter, you should look to your own morals, sir.’ Emma clamped her lips together, having rattled that lot off, wishing he’d say something instead of regarding her with that relentless hooded gaze.