by Laura Beers
“I have heard whispers that he still retains a mistress across Town.”
“Most likely, but you do not need to concern yourself with that.”
Emmeline’s lips parted. “You cannot be in earnest.”
“Just consider yourself lucky that he is warming someone else’s bed,” Betty remarked with a flip of her hand. “Trust me, you will understand precisely what I mean when you are wed.”
“He just wants me to bear him a son.”
“That is what most men want,” Betty said. “That, and a dutiful wife.”
“I am not sure I can do either.”
Betty placed a hand on her shoulder. “What you are feeling is just nerves,” she explained. “It is commonplace for every bride to feel them.”
“I don’t think I am feeling nerves.”
“You are,” Betty declared. “I had the same reaction when I discovered that George and I were to be married.”
“You had an arranged marriage?”
Betty nodded. “George’s father was tired of his wild ways and decided that he needed a bride. He contacted my father, and they drafted a contract without my knowledge.”
“How terrible.”
“But it wasn’t,” Betty contended. “Our union may have started out as a marriage of convenience, but we have developed mutual affection towards one another. I even look the other way when I hear rumors of his dalliances.”
“I don’t want that for my life.”
Betty lowered her hand to the side. “We have arranged the most advantageous marriage for you. You shall be the envy of the ton.”
“I don’t believe that to be true,” Emmeline remarked. “When I was at the ball, I discovered that gentlemen are placing bets at White’s about how long I will stay alive after I wed the duke.”
“Those are just some gentlemen wasting their money. I wouldn’t give it another thought,” Betty said.
Hesitantly, Emmeline asked, “What if I don’t marry the duke?”
Betty’s eyes sparked with displeasure. “We have been over this; multiple times, in fact. Your reputation will be ruined, and you shall most likely remain a spinster for the rest of your days. Furthermore, we will not let you be a strain on our household. You shall have no choice but to seek out employment, and quickly.” She maintained her gaze. “Is that what you wish, Emmeline?”
“No,” she replied with a shake of her head.
“Out of all the ladies of Society, the duke selected you to be his bride,” Betty said. “You should be immensely grateful for that.”
Emmeline slowly bobbed her head. “You are right,” she lied. “I suppose it is just nerves.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
A yawn slipped past Emmeline’s lips, and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth. “I believe I just require a good night’s sleep, and I shall wake up with a new outlook on life.”
Betty smiled approvingly. “I am most relieved to hear that,” she said. “George suggested that we lock you in your bedchamber until the wedding, but I felt that wasn’t necessary.”
“I appreciate that.”
Taking a step back, Betty asked, “Would you care to go shopping tomorrow?”
“I would, but may we go after my morning ride?”
Betty gave her an indulgent look. “That will be perfectly acceptable. I know how much you enjoy riding.”
“Thank you.” Emmeline walked over to her bed and sat down.
Her aunt walked to the door. “Would you like for me to send Mary back in?”
“Yes, please.”
Betty opened the door and said over her shoulder, “Goodnight, Emmeline.”
“Goodnight, Aunt Betty.”
Emmeline dropped back onto her bed, her head resting on her pillow. She knew what she wanted to do but was she strong enough to put herself in a vulnerable situation? It would be horrifying if Lord Oliver refused her. But what choice did she have? She truly did not want to marry the duke, and she didn’t want to enter a life of servitude either.
Lord Oliver may be a rake, but he could make her laugh. She might not have love in her life, but she would have friendship. Which was more than what the duke was offering.
The door opened, and her lady’s maid stepped into the room. “Are you ready to undress for bed, Miss?”
“I have come to a decision,” Emmeline announced.
“You have?”
Emmeline sat up on her bed. “I am going to speak to Lord Oliver tomorrow.”
Mary clasped her hands together. “I think that is a brilliant choice.”
“We shall see.”
Walking closer to the bed, Mary asked, “When will you go speak to him?”
“On my morning ride,” Emmeline replied. “I can ride over to Hawthorne House and no one would be the wiser.”
“Aren’t you supposed to take grooms along on your rides?”
Emmeline smiled mischievously. “Not tomorrow.”
Oliver adjusted his white cravat as he descended the stairs. The smell of food wafted out of the dining room and into the entry hall.
“Good morning, milord,” Pratt greeted from the base of the stairs.
Oliver stopped in front of the butler. “Good morning, Pratt,” he replied. “Will you ensure my horse is brought out front?”
“As you wish.”
“Thank you,” Oliver said before he headed towards the dining room.
As he stepped into the rectangular room, he saw his brother sitting at the head of the table.
Baldwin lowered the newspaper in his hand. “You don’t look entirely awful this morning,” he commented.
Oliver chuckled. “I didn’t stay out all evening, if that is what you are referring to.”
“That is good.”
Stepping over to the buffet table, Oliver picked up a plate and piled food onto it. “I must admit that it feels good to have a good night’s sleep.” He sat down at the table. “Anything interesting in the newspaper?”
“The debate about workhouses continues to rage on,” Baldwin shared, “and everyone is of the consensus that the Poor Laws need to be updated.”
“Then what is the hold up?”
Baldwin frowned. “When you are dealing with Parliament, nothing goes smoothly,” he explained. “Everyone likes to debate about the problem, but no one can offer a sensible solution that satisfies both parties.”
“I do not envy you or your position in the House of Lords,” Oliver said as he placed a white linen napkin onto his lap.
“It is not a position that I take lightly.”
“I can only imagine.”
Baldwin folded the paper and placed it on the table. “How are you faring after last night?”
“I am well,” Oliver replied, taking a bite of his food.
“Are you?” his brother pressed, eyeing him with concern.
Oliver swallowed his food. “Do not scrutinize me, Brother. It is very unbecoming of you.”
Baldwin chuckled. “My apologies, but you almost became engaged.”
“Don’t remind me.” He shuddered.
Corbyn’s voice came from the doorway. “Who almost became engaged?”
“Oliver offered for Miss Lockhart,” Baldwin responded.
As Corbyn stepped further into the room, he asked, “Isn’t she engaged to the Duke of Billingham?”
“She is,” Baldwin confirmed.
“That is a bold move,” Corbyn said, giving him a knowing look.
Oliver reached for his teacup. “I assumed you would make an appearance this morning,” he remarked.
“I got your missive,” Corbyn said as he came to sit across from him. “I looked through our records and didn’t see any reference to a Guy Stewart.”
“That is disconcerting,” Oliver remarked. “I intend to go to the meeting, and I will report back if this group poses a threat to England.”
Corbyn nodded in approval. “Be sure you stay vigilant.”
“I always do.”
Baldwin spoke up. “Would you like me to join you at this meeting?”
“That won’t be necessary,” Oliver replied. “Most likely, it is a bunch of schoolboys spouting nonsense.”
Corbyn gave Baldwin a pointed look. “Besides, you are retired.”
“That doesn’t mean I can’t assist in an investigation,” Baldwin pressed.
With a chuckle, Corbyn remarked, “That is precisely what it means. Your job now is to entertain your lovely new wife.”
“She is quite lovely,” Baldwin confirmed, smiling.
Oliver glanced over his shoulder at the open door. “Where is Madalene?” he asked. “She normally joins us for breakfast.”
“She had breakfast in her room this morning since we arrived home so late from the ball,” Baldwin shared.
Oliver had just taken a bite of his food when Pratt stepped into the room and met his gaze. “Miss Lockhart is here to call upon you, milord,” he announced.
Oliver gulped, nearly choking on his food, as he stared back at the butler. “Miss Lockhart is here to see me?” he repeated back in disbelief.
“Yes,” Pratt confirmed.
Baldwin leaned closer to him and whispered, “Are you going to meet with her or not?”
“I’m not sure,” Oliver replied honestly. “It is entirely inappropriate for an engaged woman to call upon a gentleman.”
“Are you going to send her away?” Baldwin asked.
Oliver pushed back his chair and rose. “No, I would never be so cold and heartless as to disrespect Emmeline so horrendously.” He directed his next comment towards Pratt. “Will you show her to the drawing room?”
Pratt tipped his head and went to do his bidding.
“Why do you suppose she is here?” Corbyn questioned.
With a shrug of his shoulders, Oliver placed his napkin onto his plate. “I am not sure, but I must admit that I am rather curious.”
He exited the dining room and headed across the entry hall towards the drawing room. As he stepped into the room, he saw Emmeline was standing next to the window, looking out over the gardens. To say that she was a beautiful young woman would be an understatement, especially with her high cheekbones, creamy white skin, and delicate features. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a simple chignon, drawing attention to her wide, expressive blue eyes.
“Good morning, Miss Lockhart,” he greeted.
Emmeline gave him a curious look as she stepped away from the window. “Why are you addressing me so formally?”
“Well, you are engaged to be married.”
A look of disapproval came to her lovely features. “Yes, I have come to speak to you about that.”
“Is that so?” He took a step towards her.
Emmeline opened her mouth and then promptly closed it. She took a deep breath before saying, “I believe I may have been too hasty in turning down your offer of marriage.”
Oliver considered her for a moment. “Well, I believe it was for the best,” he said.
“Oh,” she murmured.
He took another step towards her and stopped, leaving more than enough distance to be considered proper. “Don’t you agree?”
Oliver watched as a blush crept up onto her cheeks, and he found it oddly adorable.
Emmeline smoothed down her dark blue riding habit as she lowered her gaze towards the carpet. “I… umm… don’t.”
“Pardon?”
Bringing her gaze back up, she said, “If you are still offering, I would like to accept.”
He lifted his brow at that bold declaration. “May I ask what changed your mind?”
“I think I would much prefer being married to you than the Duke of Billingham,” she said, her voice growing more confident with each word.
“Why is that?”
Emmeline squared her shoulders. “We are friends and I think we would suit much more admirably.”
“Even though I am a rake?”
Her gaze flickered to the ground. “I understand that men have urges—” she began.
Speaking over her, he asked in an amused tone, “And how would you know that?”
She brought her hands up to cover her reddened cheeks. “I don’t know firsthand, mind you, but I have been told as much.”
“I see,” he replied.
Emmeline looked at him with hopeful eyes. “Does this mean you are still willing to marry me?” she asked.
He sighed as he broke their gaze. “I don’t think it is a good idea.”
“Oh,” she breathed as the light in her eyes dimmed. “I am sorry for disturbing you, my lord.”
As she moved to brush past him, he reached out and grabbed her arm. “Don’t go just yet, Emme,” he said.
“I’m afraid I must,” she replied, keeping her gaze straight ahead.
“Why?” Oliver could see the tears well up in her eyes and watched as she ferociously blinked them back.
“I knew I shouldn’t come,” she breathed.
He leaned closer and asked, “Then why did you?”
She turned her head towards him, making their faces only inches apart. “I had to try,” she whispered as a tear slid down her cheek.
“You don’t want to marry me, Emme,” he said, his eyes roaming over her face.
“I do,” she replied. “You are my last hope, and I messed that up by refusing your offer.”
Oliver dropped his hand from hers but remained close. “Don’t say that.” He reached out and wiped the tear off her face. “I can’t provide you the life that you deserve.”
“I don’t care about that,” she asserted.
He found his stance softening towards her, and it was her tears that were his undoing. “I can’t offer you love, Emme. The only thing I can offer you with certainty is the protection of my name.”
“I understand.”
Bringing his hand up, he placed it on her right shoulder. “This would be a marriage in name only.”
“Don’t you require an heir?” she asked, her eyes searching his.
He shook his head. “I don’t intend to have children.”
Her moist blue eyes sparkled, transfixing him. “I can accept that,” she murmured.
“We shall have to depart for Gretna Green tonight so we can marry before your aunt and uncle suspect anything.”
A timid smile came to her lips. “That won’t be an issue.”
“There is one last thing,” he said, “and this is nonnegotiable.”
“What is that?” she asked with a slight tremor in her voice.
His eyes darted towards her lips. “We must seal the deal with a kiss.”
Emmeline reared back slightly, and he let his hand drop to his side. “I have never kissed anyone before,” she admitted in a soft voice.
“It is really quite simple,” he said with a flirtatious smile.
She nodded her head before she closed her eyes and remained perfectly rigid.
“What are you doing?” he asked, amused.
Without opening her eyes, she replied, “I am waiting for you to kiss me.”
He chuckled. “I was hoping you would be more of an active participant in the kiss.”
“What would you have me do, then?” she questioned as she opened her eyes.
Oliver took a step closer to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. He leaned closer, drawing their faces near, and brushed his lips over hers. He heard her let out a staggered breath, but she remained still. Once he was sure she wouldn’t run away, he pressed his lips against hers.
He intended it to be a chaste kiss, but as he felt her softening in his arms, he decided to give her a proper kiss. Slowly, he brought his arms around her and gently brought her towards him. She came willingly, and he took a moment to deepen the kiss.
He was so lost in the moment that he barely registered his sister’s exclamation. “Unhand my friend!”
Rather than do Jane’s bidding, Oliver leaned back and was gratified to see that Emmeline’s eyes were still closed.
Jane came
closer. “I’m serious, Oliver,” she said firmly. “Emmeline is engaged to the Duke of Billingham.”
“Not anymore,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “She has agreed to be my wife.”
Jane shifted her gaze towards Emmeline. “Is Oliver in earnest?”
Emmeline smiled. “I am going to marry your brother.”
To his surprise, Jane swatted at his sleeve. “You’d better be true to Emmeline, or I will kill you myself.”
Oliver huffed. “This marriage will be in name only.”
“Are you sure?” Jane asked. “It appeared that you two were getting along quite nicely before I walked into the room.”
Oliver cleared his throat. “That was only to seal our agreement with a kiss.”
“I think it might be best if I return home and pack,” Emmeline said.
“Make sure you pack light,” Oliver advised. “We will only stop to swap out the horses.”
“I understand,” she replied.
Jane glanced between them. “You are eloping?” she questioned.
Emmeline nodded. “I can’t marry Oliver without my guardian’s consent before I am twenty-one, and the duke intends to marry me on my birthday.”
“Mother is going to be furious,” Jane declared.
Oliver shifted his gaze towards Jane. “You will not tell Mother until after we depart.”
“But—”
He cut her off. “I am serious, Jane,” he stated, his tone brooking no argument. “We don’t want anyone to tip off Lord and Lady Taylor.”
Jane pressed her lips together. “I can agree to that.”
Emmeline met his gaze and said, “Thank you, Oliver.” He could hear the sincerity in her voice.
“You are welcome,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “Now, you’d better return home before your aunt and uncle grow suspicious.”
Taking a step back, Emmeline bobbed her head. “I shall see you tonight.”
“I will pick you up at twelve in front of your townhouse.”
He could see relief flicker in her eyes. “I will be ready.”
“Good.”
After Emmeline departed from the room, Jane stood her ground as she glared at him.
Frowning, he asked, “What is on your mind, dear sister?”
“What you are attempting to do is asinine,” Jane declared.
“I disagree,” he replied. “Emmeline needs my help.”