An Unwelcome Suitor (Entangled Inheritance Book 4)

by Ashtyn Newbold

  I met Martha’s gaze, surprised to find her eyebrow raised. “It seems you have given Dr. Pembroke a great deal of thought.”

  “One cannot know their enemy too well.”

  Martha did not appear convinced. “You did not speak of him with any malice in your voice. I daresay I heard more admiration than anything.”

  I blew the ink dry over his name, afraid to look at Martha’s face for fear of finding more accusations in her expression. “It was observation, not admiration.”

  Martha was silent for a long moment. “Do you think we are hurting him by doing this? Has he come to rely on his inheritance of Brookhaven?”

  Guilt encircled my stomach again, filling me with a sense of dread. “If you had seen Gilbert today…” My voice was a mere whisper. “I don’t wish to hurt anyone. But if I must choose to preserve either love or ambition, I will always choose love. Dr. Pembroke’s ambition is worth sacrificing. If he knew about Gilbert, if Juliana would tell him, then perhaps he would have the goodness of character to surrender his efforts to marry her.”

  Martha seemed to contemplate my words, running her fingers over her honey blonde braid. “You said he was concerned over our situation. Would he still surrender if he knew we would be left to Mr. Yeatman’s care?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Pondering over Dr. Pembroke’s character was far too tiring, and even more so was trying to understand my own feelings toward the man. Did he even care about us? About anyone? Or was he still acting only for himself? I did not enjoy feeling like a ruthless thief for taking Brookhaven from him, but I could not suppress my guilt. What would my parents think of the conniver I had become?

  My thoughts traveled back to Juliana and Gilbert, and my conscience stepped aside, making way for my determination. I could not forget my purpose, and I could not be fooled into changing my course. I wet the tip of my quill. “Do not forget the plan,” I said. “I will bring you the letter at breakfast tomorrow.”

  Martha nodded with a solemn expression, rising from her place on my bed. “Good night.”

  I paused at the curtness of her voice, excusing it to my imagination. “Good night.”

  With a deep breath, I placed the tip of my quill to the paper. Dearest Charity, I wrote in firm and straight lines, before I could change my mind.

  “Eliza!” I awoke to someone shaking my shoulder. The urgency of the voice was enough to liven my senses. My eyes shot open to find Martha’s face above me.

  “Juliana has taken ill.”

  I sat up, rubbing my forehead. “Juliana is ill?”

  “That is what I said.” Martha tugged on my arm. “She called for Isabel this morning to bring her tea. Her head aches quite badly, and she suffers from a sore throat.”

  “Oh dear.” I stepped out of bed, still blinking sleep from my eyes. “What is the time?”

  “Half past seven.”

  We walked down the hall to Juliana’s bedchamber, where I found her in bed, prostrate and pale. I rushed to her bedside, noting the perspiration on her brow. She gave me a weak smile, pushing her hair back from her eyes. “It is only a chill. Not to worry.” She sneezed into her covers, wiping beneath her nose with a nearby handkerchief. “I have not been ill for at least a year. It was time I took my turn. My throat was quite uncomfortable yesterday evening, but I thought nothing of it.” She sighed. “I will have to give Dr. Pembroke my regrets for our outing today, but I am sure he will understand.”

  I exchanged a quick glance with Martha. Juliana’s condition did not appear serious, to my relief, but her ailment would require rearrangement of our plan. I sat down beside her, touching the back of my hand to her forehead. “You are not overly warm. I don’t suppose you have a fever. Would you like a glass of water or a plate of food? I shall ask Cook to prepare breakfast a bit earlier this morning.”

  “Cook has already been preparing it, as I planned to take my ride with Dr. Pembroke in one hour.” Juliana gestured at the cup of water beside her bed.

  I passed it to her. “I will be sure to inform him of your condition when he arrives and bring your breakfast up for you.”

  “Thank you.” Her eyes fluttered closed.

  Martha and I took our leave of the room, stopping outside the closed door. Martha shifted nervously. “Shall we wait until she is recovered to show her the fake letter?”

  I shook my head. “This may work to our favor. Her sensibilities may be more delicate at present, so she may be more likely to empathize with Dr. Pembroke’s pain, and that is exactly what we need to happen.”

  Martha eyed the long hallway where my door still stood half open. “Where is the letter?”

  “On my writing desk. After Dr. Pembroke takes his leave, shall we take the letter up to Juliana and explain that it fell out of his pocket in the entry hall?”

  “That sounds plausible enough.”

  I gave a firm nod. “Perhaps you should stay up here with Juliana to ensure she is well until Dr. Pembroke arrives. I will ready myself quickly and see to Juliana’s breakfast, after which I will meet you upstairs.”

  Martha nodded her agreement and slipped back into the room.

  A few minutes later, dressed in my lightest mourning dress, with my curls tamed in a quick twist, I made my way to the breakfast room, the letter in hand. I waited until the servants had placed all of Juliana’s favorites in a long row, starting with rye bread and strawberry jam, and ending with eggs. I placed the letter on the end of the table while I picked up Juliana’s plate, starting from the opposite end of the spread.

  A footman in the doorway startled me, and I whirled to face him.

  “Dr. Pembroke has just arrived,” he said.

  My heart gave a wayward leap as I picked up Juliana’s plate to continue making selections. “Please, send him here.”

  A moment later, Dr. Pembroke was standing in the doorway. He was not as much a shadow as I had once viewed him to be. He still wore his usual dark colors, but then so did I.

  My gaze settled on his face. The sunlight from the nearby window brightened his eyes, making the grey appear much closer to a silvery blue. Offset by dark brows, his gaze was striking.

  “Miss Elizabeth.” He bowed, and I curtsied, wobbling slightly on my ankle.

  He truly missed nothing. “Is your ankle still causing you pain?”

  “No, it is quite well.”

  His features held a tinge of suspicion, but he did not have the nerve to question my candor again. He stopped a few feet away from me, close enough for me to smell the scents I had come to connect with him—leather, soap, and something unique to him that I could not name. I tried to hold my breath, but my heart beat too quickly, demanding air to give power to its unwelcome rhythm.

  “I believe Juliana was expecting my arrival,” Dr. Pembroke said. “I only hope you will not be our chosen chaperone.”

  I looked up at him, blinking innocent lashes. “Why ever would you have such a wish?”

  He smiled, that same reluctant, exasperated grin. I scolded myself for wanting to see it, for saying something that I knew would earn it.

  A sneaking sensation of dread poured through me as I realized I had left the letter on the edge of the table. By the eggs. I tore my attention from his face, glancing carefully toward the missive.

  “You are early,” I blurted, praying that he had not noticed the direction of my gaze. “I must say I am quite surprised.” He did not seem to have noticed the letter. Even if he did, it likely would not interest him. He didn’t know what the contents entailed.

  “I had to arrive in time to ensure there would be no cunning young ladies up and about working mischief.” His voice lowered with his eyes as they narrowed down at me.

  My temples tightened to subdue my smile. “I know of one young lady up and about, but she has never worked mischief a day in her life.”

  “Is that so?” He bit the corner of his lip, shaking his head. “I suppose my punctuality was in vain, then.”

  “I’m afraid it w
as.” My gaze caught on his lips, but I tore it away before he could notice. “In fact, the entire purpose of your coming here to Brookhaven today is in vain. Juliana has caught a slight chill. I do not believe it to be serious, but she will be unable to join you on your ride today.”

  He studied my face for a long moment. “Are you responsible for this sudden illness?”

  I gasped. “How could you even say such a thing?”

  “I am led to believe that you intend to keep me and your sister apart by any means necessary.”

  I shook my head fast. “Not if it comes at the expense of Juliana.”

  “Only if it comes at mine.”

  “Correct.” I stopped in regret. Why could I not hold my tongue in his presence? My manners had never been worse than when I was near him.

  He regarded me with skepticism. “Where is your sister?”

  “I told you, she is ill. She is in her room upstairs, likely sleeping. I had hoped you might have the decorum to assess her health while you are here.”

  The suspicion on his face slackened. “You are serious?”

  “I’m afraid so.” I could not blame him for his lack of trust in me. “I am trying to arrange a breakfast plate for her, and I am sure she would prefer it warm.” I moved down the line, skipping right to the eggs. Before I could snatch the letter, Dr. Pembroke addressed me again.

  “Forgive me. I should not have taken your words so lightly. Did she appear to have a fever?” The remorse on his face was both surprising and unsettling. I hated when he demonstrated his good qualities.

  “No, not at all. She will be glad to know that you are concerned.”

  He watched me in silence as I selected a slice of bacon for Juliana. “I still do not believe you are finished with your schemes,” he said. “I am glad I took your threat seriously the last time we spoke. I have raised my defenses, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Would you believe me if I told you I wish to issue my official surrender?” I held my stance, not allowing myself to be affected by his study.

  He searched my face. Let him search. After a long moment, he looked down at the table, chuckling quietly under his breath. Blast it all. What had he found?

  “I don’t believe you to be capable of surrender,” he said finally, his voice pensive.

  I probably should not have been flattered, but I could not help it. “Was that a compliment?”

  “It was a warning.” He interlocked his fingers behind his back, turning to face me more fully. His brow had leveled over his gaze, making him appear far more serious. “I don’t think you realize what your life would be should I not marry Juliana.”

  “I do realize.” I took a slice of bread from the sidebar, reaching for the dish of jam. Dr. Pembroke stopped me, his hand wrapping around my wrist.

  I jerked my gaze to him.

  His grip loosened, his fingers brushing over my forearm as he took the butter knife from my hand. “Allow me.”

  He scraped a small, penny-sized portion of jam onto the edge of the knife. “Please help me understand something.” He took a heavy breath. “I have learned that you are quite skilled at pretending.” He eyed me, picking up a fresh slice of bread. “So please pretend for a moment that this slice of bread represents your life.”

  I held Juliana’s plate against me, my curiosity abating my frustration. I nodded for him to continue.

  “If you were given the choice to place all the jam on one corner of this bread and eat it, or spread it evenly over the entire slice, which would you choose?”

  “What do you mean by this?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  I could not answer without knowing the hidden meaning behind his metaphor. “Well, I do not enjoy plain bread nearly as much as I enjoy jam on my bread. I do not see the point in eating all the jam in one bite, only to be left with dry, boring bread.” Could he mean by his strange metaphor my desire to leave Brookhaven behind, embarking on a dull and hapless life?

  “Which would you choose?” he asked.

  I took the knife from his hand, leveling my gaze with his. “I would spread it all on Juliana’s bread.” I leaned over the dish and took a bigger portion of jam, spreading it generously over the slice on her plate before setting the knife down with a clatter.

  Dr. Pembroke stared at me as if I were a puzzle that had just grown even more confusing. He drew a deep breath. “If Juliana would be so unhappy with me, then why has she not objected to this courtship? Do you all find me as repulsive as Mr. Yeatman? He is fully capable of ruining your reputation along with both of your sisters’ from the very moment you are under his care.”

  If Dr. Pembroke knew about Gilbert, then he would understand why it mattered so much.

  Dread tightened a knot in my stomach. “That is not our only option. A nearby town is in need of more seamstresses. We could work for a household as governesses or—or even as maids.”

  He tipped his head back with a groan, and when he lowered it, he stepped closer. “That is even worse. Do you realize the attention you will draw in any household?” His eyes traveled over me in quick glances. “Your posture is too straight and your complexion too unblemished. Even your eyes carry intelligence far beyond that of any maid. With your refined voice, you would be the target of any cad in the home the moment a single word passes your lips.” Even as he spoke of it, his gaze lowered to my lips, hovering there for a brief moment. He looked away with force, crossing his arms in front of him, as if to create a barrier between us.

  My face grew hot. “You think I would be taken advantage of? Do you not think me capable of fending for myself and my sisters?”

  “I think you are being absurd.”

  I stared at the ground, anger pulsing past my ears. It was true that I had not fully thought through the possible consequences of my sabotage. My focus had been on Juliana and Gilbert. I had not fully considered Martha’s well-being, or my own. I had been dragging Martha along in my plan, not pausing to realize what I was doing to her future: sabotaging it.

  I had taken my schemes too far. Juliana had the strength of character to accept the fate she had been dealt. All I had done was try to cheat it. After enduring the deaths of my parents, I knew as well as anyone else that hearts healed in time, never fully, but enough to reclaim happiness. Juliana would recover, Gilbert would recover. Perhaps Juliana could be happy married to Dr. Pembroke.

  I looked up at his face, and my heart hammered against my ribs. But why did that still feel so terribly wrong?

  He rested one hand on the table, leaning down to my height. “Please help me understand why you are doing this.”

  There was no way I could fully explain why I was trying to sabotage the courtship without betraying Juliana’s trust forever. It took a great deal of strength to hold my words back about Gilbert. “I told you that I am surrendering. My motivations hardly matter, do they?”

  I was still acutely aware of the letter sitting on the edge of the table, within reach of both me and Dr. Pembroke. His arms were longer, so I didn’t dare draw attention to it. Dr. Pembroke had given me much to think on, but he had not fully changed my mind. There was no need to use the letter today. I could save it for a last defense—a secret weapon—should I decide to stay my course.

  He chuckled, as if he still did not believe me to be serious. “It is your motivations that make me the most curious.”

  What could he mean? I inched slightly closer to the edge of the table. “I am only motivated to ascertain your worthiness of my sister’s hand. Juliana deserves only the most chivalrous, kind, and honest of men.”

  “Have I been deemed worthy?”

  I rotated my body to shield my hands as I snatched up the letter, sliding it under Juliana’s plate. I glanced at Dr. Pembroke, my heart leaping when I saw his gaze settle on the plate, then to the edge of the table.

  “Pardon me?”

  “Am I worthy of your sister’s hand?”

  My brow furrowed, and I looked away from his piercing eyes. “
That is yet to be determined.” I limped toward the door, holding the letter securely under the plate where it could not be seen.

  He gave a long sigh and stepped around me before I could reach the door. “Allow me to carry her breakfast upstairs.”

  “No, no, I will carry it.”

  “I am trying to be chivalrous as you said Juliana deserved, yet you refuse me the opportunity.” He stared into my eyes, his own rounded with what appeared to be false innocence. Had he seen me snatch the letter? Had he been suspicious of it? My words lodged in my throat.

  “Please, it is not safe with your recent injury.” He gestured at my feet before taking the liberty to grip one end of the plate.

  He pulled.

  I pulled.

  He was much stronger than me.

  I gasped when he took the plate away from my hands. The letter spiraled down to the floor. I met his eyes. He might have been stronger, but I was shorter and therefore much closer to the ground. I snatched it up in one motion—far too quick to be nonchalant.

  “I believe that belongs to me.” Dr. Pembroke eyed the paper at my side.

  I scoffed. “It is mine.”

  “Then why did I see my name on it?”

  “Your na—” I glanced down, my stomach flooding with regret as I saw the bottom fold of the letter turned open, revealing the condemning Pembroke of the signature.

  Embarrassment had already begun to seep over my skin, making it an unfortunate, splotchy red. Could I never do anything right in his presence? All my endeavors to deceive him resulted in the highest degree of embarrassment to myself. This letter—this might have been the worst. To impersonate him! He would scold me thoroughly for it, and then tease me endlessly for its contents. It would be better to confess all of it than to hand it over.