by Mary Brendan
‘Do you like the Earl, though, Em?’ Dawn persisted.
Her friend’s question put Emma on the spot, making her probe feelings she’d rather not analyse. She didn’t hate him, neither did she fear his power over her as she once had. He had told her he’d not harm her or force her to do anything she didn’t want to. And neither had he. The kisses and caresses she’d received had been blissful, not hurtful, because in truth she adored the feel of his body, his mouth, pressing hard against hers. The unpalatable facts about her past that he’d brought to her attention had been justified. Just as had those truths about him that she’d laid at his door.
He was a rich aristocrat and she was the spinster daughter of an impecunious gentleman. The Earl of Houndsmere had done what any man in his position would do if finding a woman attractive and in need of financial assistance. He’d suggested a solution to benefit them both. She was conscious that there were a multitude of needy females who would doubtless welcome a proposition from a handsome, generous peer of the realm. She couldn’t blame him for thinking she might be one of them.
‘Don’t you know how you feel about him, Em? Can’t you decide if you like him?’ Dawn had been watching the changing emotions flitting over her friend’s lovely features. Emma’s eyes had been sparkling like topaz jewels one moment and clouding the next.
Tempted to prevaricate, Emma instead told the truth. ‘Yes... I like him. But it would be foolish to like him too much. You and I must both be sensible about things: you cannot become fond of Jack because he has too little and I cannot become fond of the Earl of Houndsmere because he has too much. So...enough of these unsuitable gentlemen. We should talk of something else while we finish our tea. Then I must get going. Mrs O’Reilly has been a real boon while Papa has been ill, but she will want to get off home.’
‘How is Mr Waverley? My father was in a tizzy over not being able to see him earlier in the week. He came back and went straight to his study with a very black expression.’ Dawn paused. ‘This morning at breakfast he muttered about paying him another visit while we were out for a drive in the park. I wondered if Mr Waverley had taken a turn for the worse and that had upset Papa.’
‘No...my father’s health has improved.’ Emma felt a fluttering of uneasiness. Quickly, she finished her tea and stood up. ‘I should get home and see how he is, though.’
Once outside on the pavement she waved to her friend and speedily set off, disquiet still bedevilling her. The families did not live far apart and, walking briskly, she reached Primrose Square in under fifteen minutes. She lightly ascended the stone steps and entered the house to find Mrs O’Reilly in the kitchen, stirring a pot of stew that was steaming a savoury aroma into the atmosphere. Everything appeared calm and peaceful, but Emma blurted, ‘Did my father have a visitor while I was out, Mrs O’Reilly?’
‘He did, miss. His friend knocked and seemed determined to come in. As your pa is so much better I let him upstairs to see Mr Waverley. I left them alone with the playing cards.’ She shook her head. ‘And now I’m thinking I shouldn’t have. I heard them arguing, so I did. I was about to go and throw the feller out, friend or no friend. But he left with a red face and barely a word. He’s not been gone long.’
‘Arguing?’ Another stab of foreboding tightened Emma’s chest.
‘I took your father up a powder a little while ago, hoping he’d have a nap before eating his dinner. He was grumpy and said he didn’t want it.’
‘Why did they argue?’
Mrs O’Reilly shook her head. ‘The cards were all over the floor. I picked them up and asked if the other feller had cheated. But your father wouldn’t say.’ She tutted. ‘These men...worse than children with their tantrums, so they are.’ Cathleen put down the spoon she’d been stirring the stew with. ‘I’ll be off home now. Your dinner is ready when you are.’
‘Thank you, Mrs O’Reilly.’
As soon as Cathleen had left Emma ran upstairs. What Dawn had told her led her to believe that whatever was wrong between their fathers had started before that card game this afternoon. She rapped on his chamber door and, when she received no answer, entered.
‘What are you doing, Papa?’ Emma sped up to him. He was still in his nightgown, but was struggling to put on his waistcoat over it. Unsteady on his feet, he lost his balance and fell backwards on to his bed.
‘Roland came while you were out,’ Bernard puffed. ‘He told me that Gresham is aware of all our business. Every sordid part of my son’s employment as a coalman and his affair with Houndsmere’s stepsister is known to that blackguard!’ Bernard thumped his fists on to the mattress in despair. ‘Roland thinks the cunning wretch tricked him into saying more than he should have. Joshua made out he knew everything when in truth he only had a few facts. I bawled my friend out for letting one word slip between his lips. He is supposed to be my most trusted confidant, but blabbed our secrets.’
‘You told Mr Sanders about Robin...and everything else as well?’ Emma cried. ‘It was supposed to be just for us to know, Papa!’ She bit her lip. She wasn’t without fault. She had let slip about her brother on the very first occasion she had met Lance Harley. And now he knew everything, too.
‘I couldn’t help it... I was so excited...and Roland promised he would keep his mouth shut.’ Bernard looked shamefaced. ‘But I know it is all my fault. Now I must put things right. I’m going out to see my son before Gresham catches up with him and I’ll warrant with a Bow Street Runner at his side to arrest Robin.’
‘You must not!’ Emma guessed her father was feverish from distress. His face was flushed and perspiring, and he seemed confused to be dressing himself over his nightgown. ‘I will go and warn Robin,’ she soothed him. ‘Please get back into bed, Papa.’ His chest was heaving with the effort of gasping in breaths and she feared if he didn’t stop thrashing about he’d knock the scab off his healing wound.
‘But he will listen to me...not you. You have let me down by taking too long to deal with it, Emma,’ her father scolded, struggling to stand up. ‘I should have borrowed more money and helped Robin sooner,’ he wailed. ‘It is my fault he is found out. Houndsmere might have loaned me money, had I asked. I would have done anything that man said to have his backing and save my son...’
‘Hush, Papa...’ Emma felt tears prickling her own eyes, listening to her father’s sobs.
Bernard wiped his face with the sleeve of his nightshirt. ‘Why hasn’t Gresham been here to taunt me?’ He frowned. ‘I know that devil: he would have come just to rub my nose in it.’
‘He did visit when you had a fever,’ Emma informed. ‘Mrs O’Reilly sent him away, Papa, but he...’ She had been about to say that he had sent a letter instead. Something made her think better of it and stay quiet. Until now she had forgotten about the post she had slipped into a drawer.
She picked the beaker up from the nightstand and agitated the milky water with the spoon standing in it. ‘Take your powder, Papa, it will calm you. I promise to sort this out. I know I can.’ Inwardly, she prayed that was no empty boast, but it had the desired effect. He meekly drank the concoction.
Handing back the empty cup, he gazed at her with damp, trusting eyes. He caught at her fingers to pat them. ‘You are a good girl, little Emma.’
She gave him a shaky smile. It wasn’t by being good that she’d bring this right. Quite the opposite behaviour would be needed. At one time she might have been relieved to know that Houndsmere had lost interest in her...now she prayed that he had not. After her insolence earlier it was likely he might not want to see her again. And she couldn’t...wouldn’t beg.
She helped her father remove his waistcoat and settled him under the covers before going downstairs and straight to the console table in the hall. She had never before opened any letter addressed to her father, but she feared that the content of this one would destroy him. So he must never see it. Quickly, she broke the seal, gasping as her eyes f
lew over the two paragraphs that crudely gibed at her father.
With brutish candour, Joshua had described what he wanted to buy his silence: Emma to quit her home and move to an address of his choosing to henceforth be his concubine. He had actually written that in a letter to her father! Emma screwed the parchment in a fist and threw it as far as she could. She had always disliked Joshua, even in the early days after Simon had died and his brother had pretended to be sympathetic to gain their trust. But never had she believed he would sink so low as to torture an ill man with the abuse he intended to inflict on his daughter.
She retrieved the paper and stuffed it in a pocket. Praying that her father would stay put in his bed now he’d swallowed the sleeping draught, she donned her cloak and went out. As she walked quickly away she realised she would visit two very different districts this evening: Rowley Street and Grosvenor Square. And the latter trip to Mayfair would require the greatest courage.
Houndsmere had told her not to let things fester, or the matter would only get worse. He had been right. But for her own sake she had prevaricated...and in doing so had risked her father’s health and her brother’s safety. Now she might have left it too late to be put right. And all because of her stupid pride.
Chapter Fifteen
The loud bang on the door made the couple immediately break apart. Robin had been rocking Augusta in his arms while she tearfully complained of feeling horribly queasy most of the time and wishing she wasn’t having a baby if this was what it entailed.
‘It’s only the landlord,’ he reassured, as her startled gaze darted to the door. ‘Dry your eyes now. I’ll pay him his rent and he’ll leave us be. Then, I’ll go out and get us some supper.’
‘I don’t want any food,’ she whimpered, rubbing her swollen abdomen. ‘And I don’t like that horrible old man, Robin. Don’t let him in. He tried to kiss me when you were at work...please...let’s move from here.’
‘Soon...’ Robin promised, but his expression had turned grim. Augusta’s sweet face and blonde locks drew male attention. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to protect her from the low life they were forced to surround themselves with. He flung wide the door, snarling, ‘I believe you have an apology to make, sirrah...’
‘You took the words right out of my mouth,’ came the drawled reply. ‘And before I’m done with you, I will have it. As will your sister.’
It took a second or two for Robin to overcome his shock and clack shut his dropped jaw. He attempted to slam the door in the Earl’s face, but a strong arm whacked the wooden panels back against the wall.
‘Leave us alone!’ Augusta cried, intrepidly springing forward to shield Robin from her stepbrother, advancing into the room. ‘I love him and I’m staying with him.’
‘So I gather,’ Lance said in the same mordant tone. He closed the door, running a jaundiced eye over their dilapidated abode. ‘Well, it must be love, I suppose, to make you put up with this when you’ve a feather bed to go to.’
‘Such things means nothing to me,’ Augusta declared, tilting her chin. ‘I’d sooner starve and sleep on straw here with Robin than go back with you to Chelsea.’
‘A trifle dramatic—nevertheless, I believe you truthfully would,’ Lance replied mildly. ‘But if you wish to stay out of trouble, Waverley, you need to leave here this instant and do as I say.’
‘What punishment have you planned for me?’ Robin had recovered his senses and moved Augusta behind him in a show of manliness. He felt a dolt now for allowing a pregnant woman to step up to protect him. Besides, the Earl didn’t look as fierce as he’d expected him to when he apprehended them. In fact, he didn’t look really angry at all. ‘Tell me what you intend to do,’ Robin insisted.
‘I’ll help you. That’s the truth. Now quickly, get your things together to set on the road.’ Lance gestured to his stepsister to fill up the carpet bag resting against the wall, then turned to Robin. ‘Joshua Gresham knows you are alive and is on your trail.’
‘Who told him?’ Robin burst out, turning pale. ‘My father wouldn’t... Emma!’ He thumped a fist into a palm. ‘Joshua has always had eyes for her. He and his brother both wanted her, but she avoided Joshua from the start. If I hadn’t caught up with the couple on their way to Gretna, then Joshua would have. He found out his brother planned to elope and set out after them to betray Simon. Anybody could see that it ate Joshua up inside, not having her.’ Robin agitatedly paced to and fro, thinking things through. ‘Joshua proposed to her after Simon died, but she turned him down. Has he been sniffing around my sister again, do you know? He married Simon’s widow, but a wife wouldn’t stop that lecher going after a woman he wanted. Somehow or other he must have dragged our secret out of Emma—’
‘He hasn’t,’ Lance cut across him. ‘Your sister has done her best to save your hide, imperilling herself in the process. When you next see her make sure to show her the gratitude she deserves, or I’ll show you some manners.’
Robin didn’t like being criticised and threatened in front of Augusta. ‘What do you care?’ he blustered. A silence followed that made him widen his eyes on his detractor. ‘Hell’s teeth...you do care...’ he muttered.
‘Get your belongings together now, before I recover my senses and leave you both to your own devices. I’ll meet you downstairs. You have precisely ten minutes before I send the coach away.’
‘Where are we going, Lance?’ Augusta looked much more cheerful now she knew her stepbrother wasn’t about to kill the man she loved and drag her back to her mother.
‘I’ll tell you that somewhere more private.’ The glance he cast at the thin walls needed no explanation.
* * *
Five minutes later the couple rushed out of the dingy building, Robin carrying their carpet bags, and joined Lance on the pavement. He’d been prowling impatiently and smoking a cheroot, seeming little perturbed by the rough neighbourhood or the suspicious glances sidling his way from passers-by. The driver on the coach was hunched in readiness to receive his next instruction, the reins slack on the chestnuts’ glossy backs. As Lance opened the carriage door for Augusta, the rotund landlord wobbled out after his absconding lodgers, bellowing for his rent. Robin turned crimson with humiliation. He’d had every intention of paying up, but had forgotten about it in the chaos. He dug into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of coins.
Lance decided not to waste more time watching him sorting through silver and copper. He flicked the landlord a sovereign. ‘You’ve seen nothing and heard nothing, is that clear?’
The fellow deftly caught the gold in mid-air in one porky fist while tugging his greasy forelock with the other. For a sovereign he was prepared to forget his own name. He backed off into the dim hallway from whence he came, banging shut the door.
Augusta eagerly clambered aboard her stepbrother’s coach as though well practised at it. Robin followed her, with muttered thanks and a peer from under his eyebrows at the Earl’s saturnine features. Lance boarded last and, almost before he’d sat down opposite the couple, he rapped for the coach to pull away at speed.
‘Are you coming with us to protect us, Lance?’ Augusta slid forward on supple hide to catch hold of his hands in persuasion.
A week ago he might have eased his fingers free after allowing her them for a short while. This time he didn’t. He smoothed a thumb over the back of her hand. ‘I’m not coming with you any further than the Red Dragon on the Cambridge Road, where you can spend the night. I can get a ride back to London from there and you will take the coach on to Yorkshire in the morning where you’ll be safer.’
‘Oh, thank you!’ She lifted their clasped hands, putting her lips to his fingers. ‘You’re very good to me, Lance.’
‘Is he now? Perhaps it’s not you he’s thinking about.’ Robin had been pondering on things and the conclusion he’d arrived at made him grunt a laugh, deep in his throat. ‘I know what you’re thinking, Houndsm
ere, but she won’t agree to it, you know. Emma’s not like that.’
Lance let go of his stepsister’s fingers and sat back against the squabs, crossing his booted feet at the ankles. ‘I know...’ he said, gazing out into the dusk. ‘And it’s a bit late for you to be playing the protective brother.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Robin sounded indignant.
‘It means that you’re right in one respect about Gresham. He has been bothering your sister for some time.’
‘I’ll kill the bastard if he’s harmed her!’ Robin shot forward on the seat.
‘What...swing for both of them?’ Lance queried drily. ‘Best not make matters worse, but leave the brother still breathing to me.’
‘I didn’t aim to kill Simon... I only winged him. He must’ve been a sickly sort to die of a flesh wound. We all went home and thought no more of it when the surgeon said it was a scratch.’
‘Did he?’ Lance gave Robin a penetrative look, then slowly he sat forward, giving the other man his full attention. ‘Who was the surgeon?’
Robin shrugged. ‘Joshua stood second for his brother and he arranged for the fellow to turn up.’ He suddenly burst out, ‘Applegate...that was his name. I left that confounded common believing that I’d done a good job for Emma. No serious injuries were sustained and I was sure it would all blow over. I thought in time my sister would thank me for bringing her back and doing something to restore her reputation.’ Robin thrust his fingers through his untidy hair at the memory of the furore ensuing after that. ‘Instead, I ruined my life on that blasted day.’
‘Emma’s, too,’ Lance said with such grit in his tone that Robin glanced warily at him.