by Mary Brendan
‘Have you finished?’
‘For now,’ she replied haughtily, straightening her bonnet.
‘For good. I think you’ve said enough, don’t you?’
‘Have I? Well, what will you do if I find more to say? Ruin me or my family with your revenge and your riches?’ She laughed bitterly. ‘You cannot...it is already done. So go ahead and do your worst, my lord.’
Emma swung about and started back the way she had come, her eyes tigerish and her cheeks flushed in terrified exhilaration. She knew he was walking behind, but he didn’t attempt to catch up with her until some promenading people hove into view. Then in an easy stride he was again at her side, placing her arm on his as though they were just like any other harmonious couple enjoying a stroll. She would have loved to rip her hand away, but daren’t make a scene and worsen a very bad situation.
She was trembling, though she tightened every muscle she possessed to try to steady the fingers on his arm. She didn’t want him to know how anguished she felt now the full force of her audacity had finally caught up with her. She had gone too far. She had been unbelievably ill-mannered and presumptuous. How he went on with his family was none of her concern...but she had made it so, and intentionally challenged and provoked him in the doing of it. Her father would be horrified if he knew how disgracefully she’d behaved. So would her brother. She had just worsened their lot instead of securing Lance Harley’s help in finding a solution to it. What excuse had she to offer to those people she loved? None! She could have...should have...bitten her tongue rather than comment so insolently on the Earl of Houndsmere’s private business.
An apology was on the tip of her tongue and she battled inwardly to suppress her pride and force herself to issue it. And then it was too late. Her friends were in sight and Dawn had spotted her, raising a hand to wave.
Warily, Emma lifted her eyes to a profile that might have been hewn from granite. She wanted to say a farewell at least, but he removed her hand from his arm and, without a word, but with an unfathomable, if penetrating look, walked away.
Chapter Fourteen
‘A gentleman is here to see you, my lord.’
Wilkins glimpsed a tic-ridden jawline and a deep frown as his master strode past, a sure sign that he was immersed in some inner turmoil. Wilkins had seen him angry on many occasions. But never had Houndsmere appeared quite so absorbed in stormy thoughts as now. The manservant hobbled in his wake to repeat his message.
Conscious of being pursued, Lance halted, bringing the old fellow up short.
‘A visitor has arrived,’ Wilkins puffed out. ‘I have put him in the library anteroom with a footman outside the door. The fellow insisted that you have urgent business to conclude.’
‘His name?’
‘Mr Joshua Gresham, my lord.’ The butler gave his employer a circumspect peer, wondering whether the caller had lied about having an appointment; the Earl didn’t look as though he’d been expecting anybody. Gresham had acted pompous, but often the lower orders attempted to bolster their courage with bluster when presenting themselves at this grand abode. ‘I can have him shown out, your lordship?’ Wilkins ventured.
‘Not at all. I’ll see him now.’ Lance had entered the house so fast that he’d almost gained the foot of the stairs, but he changed direction, heading to the library. He’d been about to get some cash from his chamber and take a trip to the East End to see the hapless lovebirds, but he could delay that for a short while. He was in just the right mood to deal with Joshua Gresham.
Lance paced along the spacious corridor aglitter with chandeliers, gesturing for the footman to remove himself. Even with the prospect of a fight on his hands he couldn’t put out of his mind a woman, tawny eyes ablaze, castigating him for his wickedness. Emma had forced him to examine something about his character and he didn’t like what he’d found. He’d believed himself fair and ethical, but he hadn’t been where his stepsister was concerned.
By the time the old Earl had been bewitched into marrying again and became Augusta’s stepfather, she had turned fifteen. At her mother’s insistence, her come out had taken place the following year. Sonia had wanted to offload the responsibility of her child to a son-in-law so she could live her own life even then.
Pretty as she was, Augusta received no acceptable proposals. At sixteen she was already a rebel, outraging rather than charming eligible gentlemen. Some fortune hunters stepped up, hoping the elderly Earl might be desperate enough to settle his wayward stepdaughter with a pot of gold. But before the end of her debut Season William Harley didn’t care what happened to the girl or her mother. He had uncovered his second wife’s greed and adultery and had ejected her and her daughter from the main house to live elsewhere on the estate. People assumed Augusta was from the same mould as her mother to constantly be in mischief. Lance had held the same idea. But he was wrong. Had he taken the trouble to really get to know his stepsister, he might have discovered that for himself. But the disgust he felt for her mother had made him prejudiced. Instead, Emma had brought to his attention something that should have been obvious to him: Augusta was nothing like Sonia and that was why the desperate girl kept putting distance between them. She wasn’t bad, she was lonely and neglected...not just by her mother, but by him, too.
Lance had believed his contribution to his stepsister’s well-being had been met with his money and nothing else was his concern. But his responsibility to her went beyond food and clothes and allowing her to reside in his properties. And bringing her home when she absconded from them, to dump her back on her mother’s doorstep.
He felt ashamed. Not only of his cavalier attitude, but that a wonderful, caring woman who barely knew Augusta had needed to bring her virtues and his faults to his attention.
Lance pushed open the anteroom door, and immediately Joshua Gresham sprang to attention. He’d been prowling about while waiting, but now snapped a bow.
Lance went to the decanter on a side table, pouring a measure and stoppering it without offering his visitor a drink. He looked at Gresham over the rim of his glass, wondering if the man had resembled his younger brother in looks and character. If he had, God only knew what had attracted Emma to Simon Gresham. Not that Joshua was ugly: he was of adequate height and breadth and had regular features. But he had an air of unpleasantness, endorsed the moment he opened his mouth.
‘You are wondering why I have taken the liberty of presenting myself like this, but I think you will welcome the imposition on your time, my lord, when I explain—’
‘There was no need to deliver the deeds here. My solicitor was briefed to deal with this matter.’ Lance cut across Joshua’s waffle.
‘I haven’t brought them, my lord.’
Lance elevated a quizzical eyebrow, putting down his depleted glass. ‘The document is with my solicitor?’
‘I intend to keep hold of Waverley’s debts.’ Joshua’s attempt to sound confident floundered beneath a pair of glacial blue eyes.
After winkling every astonishing detail out of Roland Sanders earlier that afternoon, Joshua had decided against meekly relinquishing the deeds. He had turned for home, happily depositing the document back in his desk. Then he had set out for Grosvenor Square, whistling. Now he was feeling far less chirpy. The moment he’d set foot in his lordship’s magnificent world was the moment his bravado began to sap. His opponent’s power and wealth was evident in every piece of furniture and every artefact reposing on polished surfaces. The porcelain bowl, the jade figurine, the rare ancient tomes under lock and key behind the leaded glass of the bookcases...all were testament to Houndsmere’s wealth and exalted station in life. Joshua had been restlessly pacing while waiting, casting envious, resentful glances to and fro. At one point, he’d been about to bolt, but had talked himself out of it. Being allowed into this opulence was a privilege to be drawn out to its fullest and bragged about.
His sweating brow and hoarse v
oice had betrayed his anxiety, though. The Earl was looking at him with a faintly amused expression that was harder to endure than would have been a bawled demand for an explanation. ‘I have news, my lord, that I believe you will find extremely concerning,’ Joshua gabbled out into the heavy silence. ‘Once recounted, my gambling debt to you will seem as nothing compared to the reward and gratitude due to me in bringing this to your attention. Naturally you will have my utmost discretion on it all.’
‘I can’t wait to hear it.’ Lance refilled his glass, then shot the whisky back. He gestured with the empty vessel that he was growing impatient for the yarn to be started.
Joshua turned ruddy beneath the Earl’s insouciance. He was hoping to soon wipe the disdain off his face. ‘I have it on good authority that your stepsister is embroiled with a criminal absconded from justice. It is the same individual who murdered my brother in a duel. Namely Robin Waverley.’ He ended on a high note, vibrating with triumph.
‘And you think that information is worth the price of his father’s house to me?’
A dawning realisation that Houndsmere was not only already aware of the news, but was also unmoved by his hint of blackmail, caused Joshua’s jowls to sag towards his chest.
‘I will not ask for the deeds again. Take them to my lawyer today or I will sue for costs and damages and also have your own house from under you. And never think to mention my family’s business to me or to anybody else or I will make you wish you had never been born. Do you understand?’
Joshua licked his arid lips. He had believed this information so shocking that Houndsmere would meet all his demands to keep it secret. But pieces of a puzzle were falling into place. The reason for Houndsmere’s visits to Bernard Waverley became clearer. The men were allies in this. And Emma was in on it, too. She’d always been close to her twin brother and would do anything to save his hide...including sleeping with the man who could buy Robin’s freedom.
A while ago Veronica had recounted some gossip that Houndsmere had been spotted at just after dawn, assisting Waverley’s daughter from his phaeton. Joshua had dismissed it as fallacious scandalmongering arising from the Earl’s unexplained visits to Primrose Square. Now he believed that Houndsmere had delivered the little harlot home after a night of fornication and had not done so as discreetly as he might.
‘I said...do you understand?’ Lance enunciated, bracing a hand against the doorjamb.
Joshua gave a stiff nod of agreement, yet frustration was starting to boil in his chest. After leaving here he had planned to call on Emma. He’d already sent Bernard a letter telling him he knew all about his secrets. He supposed the fellow must be very ill indeed not to have immediately responded to such an alarming missive. Not that he expected Bernard to worry his daughter with the new threat Joshua intended dangling over them. But he intended to. Once aware of his increased power, Emma would surely put up no further resistance. So Joshua wasn’t quashing his lust for her, not when he was so close to achieving his goal of having her.
As Houndsmere approached to loom over him Joshua whined, ‘I would not go against you, my lord, but I have every right to demand recompense from Bernard Waverley. His son killed my brother.’
‘And you think that gives you the right to hound the family long after the event?’
‘Bernard owes me more than those deeds...’
‘He owes you nothing. His house and his debts are mine. You will never again trouble Waverley or his daughter at their home or anywhere else.’
‘His daughter?’ Joshua pounced at once.
‘The family is under my protection and that is all you need to know. Now remove yourself and deliver those deeds today before you are in default.’
Joshua’s pinched features turned florid at that blunt dismissal. The writhing in his gut wouldn’t be calmed, although he tried telling himself to keep a cool head. ‘She interests you, doesn’t she?’ he burst out. ‘I’m not surprised. She has a way of being most obliging to her father’s creditors.’ He sneered. ‘I’ve tasted her, too...sweet as wine, isn’t she...smells of lavender...’
Lance took a single stride, grabbing him by the throat with one large brutal hand. He shook him as a terrier might treat a rat. ‘You’re lying...you’ve never got close...unless you’ve forced yourself on her. Have you?’
‘I didn’t need to...she’s a wanton...’ Joshua gasped out the lie through barely moving mauve lips.
Lance thrust him away so he fell against a side table. Unbalanced, Joshua crashed to the floor, winded, his hands wrapped around his aching throat. He knew he’d gone too far now to backtrack. His lordship’s perilous rage was evident in every taut angle of his face and that stony black stare that seemed to nail him to the floor. Joshua scrambled to his feet and puffed out his chest. Inwardly, he was quaking, wishing he’d approached things differently. He was no match for this man in a fair fight or anything else. But still the thought of losing his grip on Emma was deranging him. He plunged a hand into his pocket, scrabbling for metal. ‘I’m not lying about that harlot. Look!’ He thrust the gold locket out on a flat palm. ‘She left it in my bed over a month ago. And when I’m done here I shall go and return it to the little strumpet. I’ll wager she’ll wrap her legs around my neck as she did before to thank me.’
Lance scooped the gold into a fist that carried on to make heavy contact with a smirking mouth. Joshua collapsed without knowing what had hit him. This time he had assistance finding his feet. Lance hauled him up by the collar of his coat then dragged him by it to the door, slamming him face front into it.
‘You might think yourself an able villain, but you’re an amateur, my friend,’ Lance said close to his ear. ‘But if you wish to try to cross me and test my capacity for revenge...go ahead. It’ll be a pleasure teaching you a lesson.’
Lance opened the anteroom door with one hand and shoved Joshua into the hall with the other. For good measure he hurried him on his way with the toe of his boot, sending him sprawling. He left him where he fell, bleeding on a priceless Persian carpet, and strode past to the stairs, taking them two at a time.
‘Show my visitor out.’ Over a shoulder, he calmly addressed two footmen who had started to sprint from the vestibule on hearing the commotion. The sight of a gentleman nursing his bloody chin while dragging himself upright against the watered silk wall seemed to bother the servants not a jot. They stationed themselves either side of him and bundled him out of the house.
‘Buck up, my dear!’ Emma encouraged, squeezing Dawn’s fingers. ‘Better that Mr Valance has been honest than upset you by making out he is somebody he is not.’ Emma knew all about how it felt to be tricked in such a way. She had been led to believe Simon could become her husband and his vile brother had lied and pretended to be a friend to her and her father. Lance Harley had at first omitted to tell her he was a nobleman. But she didn’t believe he’d misled her...rather that he hadn’t wanted to boast about his status. But she mustn’t think of him or revisit their passionate argument. Apologise for her impertinence, indeed she must...but how and when to do it...that was uncertain. For now, commiserating with Dawn must stay uppermost in her mind. And then she must hurry home and see how her father did.
‘I know Mr Valance acted correctly telling me he hasn’t the means to take a wife.’ Dawn sighed. ‘It was just a little dream I had that we might become more than friends. We got on well together for so short an acquaintance.’ She shrugged. ‘I hope we keep in touch.’
Instead of being dropped outside her house, Emma had asked to be set down with Dawn, saying she could walk the short distance to Primrose Square. On the journey back from Hyde Park she could tell that her friend was in need of a shoulder to cry on, despite Dawn’s brave face. Mrs Booth had snatched at Ruth’s invitation to accompany her to a teashop to treat the children when they left the park. The younger ladies had been asked along, too, but had declined. It had suited them both to go straight to Mar
ylebone in the landau with Jack Valance. As for the Earl, he had untied his fine palomino from the back of Ruth’s carriage and had ridden off with barely a word to anybody. Emma had imagined that his sister’s smile stood as an apology for his churlishness in abruptly abandoning the party. It had been as well that Ruth didn’t know the truth of it, Emma thought, or the woman might not have looked her way so sympathetically.
Jack had initiated most of the polite chitchat on the short journey. He had declined Dawn’s invitation to take tea, immediately setting on his way after helping them down from the landau.
‘Now it’s your turn to spill the beans, Em.’ Dawn cocked her head. ‘The Earl of Houndsmere has paid you a good deal of attention.’
Emma gave a neutral smile. ‘Oh, I think this afternoon he invited me to take a stroll to escape Mrs Booth fawning over him.’
‘A lot of aristocrats might like to be fawned over. But Jack told me his best friend is not at all big-headed. When they were on campaign on the continent Colonel Harley would muck in with the rest of the men, using a shovel or cooking when needs must.’
So...he’d been a soldier. There was so much she didn’t know about him, Emma realised. And why should she? Though their lives had become entangled they were still just acquaintances...nothing more. Unless she became his lover. Even then he might not tell her much about himself. The only personal information he’d ever shared was that of having started an affair with Augusta’s mother when he was eighteen. How many years ago was that? He looked about thirty, but could be older...