“I am unsure as to what to do,” she said before taking a sip of the hot tea, its effects calming. “His temper was so great, he refused to listen, and I dare say, I doubt he will ever wish to listen again.”
Stephen frowned. “I should go to his house and let him know what a scoundrel he is!” he said, balling his hand into a fist. “You are too good for the likes of him, Miss Emma. I’m sure of that! You don’t need his account now that we’ve had so many new ones come in.”
She gave him a grateful smile. “I am afraid I have ruined everything,” she sighed. “I care nothing for his accounts; it is the man for whom I care. I…we were growing close.” She wiped at her eyes. “I am sorry.”
“No need to apologize to me,” he said, producing a well-worn kerchief and leaning over to hand it to her. “You tried to tell him the truth, didn’t you?”
“I did,” she whispered, her mind replaying the events of the previous night in her mind. The duke had spoken over her, much like the thunder that roared outside. “However, he refused to listen.”
Stephen shook his head. “Men are like that.” Emma giggled, but the man did not seem to notice as he began to scratch his head. “Makes you wonder if most of us have pudding for brains.” He continued with his thoughtful head-scratching for several more moments before sitting straight up in his chair and giving her the widest smile Emma had ever seen. “Yep, we don’t listen too well, do we?”
This time Emma did laugh.
“Are you all right, Miss Emma?” he asked, concern etched on his face.
“I am better,” she replied, waving off his attempts to cover her with the blanket once more. “Thank you so much.”
With reddened cheeks, Stephen nodded and refilled her teacup. “Well, at least that storm has gone,” he said with a grin. “The sun is shining down on us again.”
Emma smiled. The room had no window, but she could see light glowing between the cracks of a few bricks where a window had once been. If only it was indeed a sign of good things to come; however, Emma doubted very likely it was the case.
“I must speak with Lord Miggs when I go to his home for dinner. We must clarify our arrangement.” She heaved a heavy sigh, wishing she could retain the calmness that had fallen upon them. “I fear he will be unhappy with what I have to say; however, it must be said.”
Stephen scratched behind his ear. “Don’t forget your appointment with Mr. Montgomery at four on Friday,” he said.
Emma groaned. “I did forget.” What would she do now? She doubted Lord Miggs would be willing to change their dinner to another evening, or a later time for that matter. How had she gotten herself into this mess?
“Could you just write him a letter?” Stephen offered.
“No. It would be best if I spoke with him in person.” She threw the blanket aside; the heat from the fire had made the room stifling hot. “Now, what do I do concerning the duke?”
“Men just need time to let their tempers settle,” Stephen counseled. “Give the man a few days, and then go talk to him. He should’ve calmed himself down by then.”
Emma gave an unladylike snort. “I doubt he will be wishing to speak to me,” she said. “In fact, I know he will not. I am not sure what to do about him.”
“Let me help. I have an idea that’ll help both you and the business.”
She turned from the kettle she had placed over the fire once more. “And what is that?”
“It’s simple,” Stephen said as he returned the chair to its place at the small eating table she rarely used. “Come Friday, if you haven’t heard from him, I’ll return his ledgers saying there’s a mistake. Then I’ll tell him that not hearing what you have to say is the big mistake; one he’ll never forget.” He raised his chin and gave a stiff nod to punctuate his words.
Emma was so overwhelmed with emotion she almost began crying again. However, rather than weeping, she hurried over and wrapped her arms around Stephen. “I am truly grateful for your friendship,” she whispered in his ear. “Thank you! I think that is a magnificent idea!” She kissed his cheek, and when she stepped away, the poor man blushed as he scratched his chin, clearly confused about how he should feel, and Emma giggled.
“What’s so funny?” he asked.
“Everything,” she replied as he gave her another confused look.
Chapter Nineteen
Lucas paced the library, his temper growing tenfold with each passing he made before the fireplace. Days had passed since his encounter with Emma, and a part of him wished to see her again. To be in her calming presence, for it was what he needed. However, a larger part inside him counseled that doing so would make him a greater fool than he already had proven himself to be.
He glanced up at the portrait of his father, the disappointment clear on the man’s face. “You were right, Father,” he said, clenching his fist. “You said I would one day be fooled by a simple woman, and it happened. I thought I would prove you wrong, but I fell into the trap she set. If only…” He could not finish the thought, for he still cared for Emma. He had planned the perfect dinner for her, a night of celebration for his defeat over his temper and for the romance that had blossomed between them. Yet, what had transpired had been a mockery, a farce that left him the biggest fool of the century.
Then he thought of the warning Ingrid had given him. Like his father’s advice, he had dismissed hers as much as he had dismissed the woman herself. The rumors concerning Emma had been true, for Emma had admitted her involvement with Lord Miggs.
Lord Miggs? What would she see in such a man? He was much older than she, a widower who was rumored to have lost his wife by her own hand. A man whose stomach grew with each passing year.
“Your Grace?”
Lucas turned to find Goodard at the door.
The butler gave him a diffident bow. “Your ledgers have arrived, and the gentleman wishes to speak with you.”
“Who?” Lucas asked.
“A Mr. Stephen Foreman.”
Lucas sighed. “Send him in.”
Emma’s assistant still wore the same coat Lucas had seen him wearing the previous two times they had met. Although it was cheaply made, the man stood tall and proud as if it had cost ten times the amount he probably paid for it.
“Your Grace,” he said, bowing over two ledgers he held in his arms. “I have come to deliver the ledgers you left behind.”
Was this the reason the man wished to be brought to him when all he had to do was leave the books with Goodard?
“Set them on the table,” Lucas said, pointing to a small oak table by the door. “You may go. Your presence is not needed here.”
“Well,” the man said as he shifted on his feet, “you see, there’s been a costly mistake done, Your Grace. One that’ll cost you a small fortune.”
Lucas eyed the man. “What do you mean? I have gone over these ledgers several times, and there are no mistakes.” To prove his point, he picked up one and scanned the entries. Each was written with a clear hand, and he could not see any errors.
“The vast wealth is Miss Emma,” Stephen said. “That’s the treasure you don’t want to lose.”
Lucas slammed the book shut and tossed it on the table. “I will not have an old drunk chastise me!” he said through a clenched jaw. The man cowered before him, but Lucas did not care. Let the old fool be afraid; it was only what he deserved for his outlandish attempt to get at Lucas. “Who do you think you are? Have you been drinking? Surely you are drunk!”
The man gave him an indignant look. “I’m not drunk, Your Grace. Far from it. Miss Emma says I’m a gentleman now.” He jutted his chin forward proudly.
Lucas laughed and then glared at the half-wit. “You may not be drunk at the moment, but I can assure you that you are not better than the man you once were. A man who cannot read, wears a three-pence suit, and believes he has a part in society is an idiot.” He gave another mocking laugh. “No, you are no gentleman, I assure you, no matter what coat you wear or what Miss Barrington
says.”
To his astonishment, the old man stood up straighter and nodded. “I might be all those things, Your Grace, and even more. But Miss Emma showed me mercy when no one else would. She tells me every day how fortunate she is to have me as a friend.” He wiped at his eyes without embarrassment for the tears that he wept. “But you see, a gentleman—or a duke or even a cobbler—knows in his heart that he’s the lucky one to call her a friend.”
Lucas pushed down the pang of guilt that rose inside him. This man, this drunk, dared to speak to him in such a manner? “Never speak to me again!” he shouted at the man, his words vaulting forward with the force of his anger. “Get out of my house, or I shall have you taken by the magistrates!”
Stephen took a step back into a chair behind him, moved around it and bumped into a table, almost overturning a vase that sat upon it. Then he turned and hurried out of the room.
Grabbing the ledgers from the small table, he threw them across the room, his echoing scream reverberating around the room.
***
Emma stood in the doorway to the office her father once owned as the sun sat on the horizon. Other shopkeepers had closed their doors for the evening, and few people remained in the street. Most of the people had gone home to waiting families, where they would share in food and laughter. Whether their home was a magnificent castle or a simple cottage, they shared one thing; they all had someone with whom they could share their heart.
How Emma wished she had as much. It was strange that a short time ago she had thought she would have that with Lucas. Her feelings for the man had blossomed much faster than she would have ever anticipated, and she had longed for them to explore where their relationship might lead. Now, however, it had all been whisked away like a goodwife sweeping away the dirt on a floor. Had her dreams been wild fantasies with no hope of coming true?
“Miss Emma,” Stephen said as he walked up to her. Gone now were his smile and the pride he wore with his new coat. Even the light swagger he had adopted had disappeared. As he drew near, Emma could see his news even before he spoke. “I’m afraid I failed you.” He pushed a fist into his opposite palm. “I told the man he’s a fool! That he should realize that he’s going to lose you.” He sighed. “His temper is even worse now, and he wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry.”
The despondent look the man wore tore at what little was left of Emma’s heart. She placed a hand on his shoulder. “It is not your fault; it is mine.”
Stephen gaped at her. “Don’t say that,” he said. “You’ve not done a single thing wrong. He’s the one at fault, not you. I know you care for him, but I tell you, he’s not worth a farthing of caring!”
Emma blinked back a tear. “Stephen,” she said in a low voice, “everyone is worth being cared for. It is why you helped me, is it not?”
He scrunched his brow. “Well…”
“And I helped you, did I not?” she continued. “Even when others thought you were not worth their time?”
He gave a sad nod. “You did, and I’ll always be grateful.”
“The duke is consumed by anger, much like you were once consumed by spirits. You know how it can destroy you.”
Stephen sighed. “More than I care to admit. I guess everyone deserves a chance. Even dukes who are cruel.”
“Yes,” Emma said as she walked over to the window and watched the last rays of sun steep the horizon in pinks and oranges. “We have a future ahead of us regardless of what the duke has decided. I thank you for having you as a friend in my life. If I could, I would tell everyone what a wonderful man you are.”
“I?” Stephen asked in surprise. “I don’t deserve recognition. I failed you today.”
The sorrow in the eyes of the older man tore at Emma, and although she was heartbroken from the rejection of Lucas, she had to keep the world around her shining brightly.
“You have not failed me,” she assured the man. “You set out to complete a task—to deliver a message to the duke—and you did just that. If he did not care to listen, then that is beyond your control.”
Stephen studied her for a moment. “I like the way you think,” he said with a wide grin. “So, what’s the plan now?”
“We shall continue forward as we have,” she replied. “I am to meet with the baron for dinner on Friday. We are to discuss business, but I would like to also clarify a few points of our agreement.” Just the idea of pretending the man was courting her made her stomach churn. “After I have secured more accounts, I believe not only will we be out of debt, but I shall be able to give you an increase in your wages.”
“You’ll never have to pay me,” Stephen insisted. “The kindness you’ve shown me is more than enough as far as I’m concerned.” He looked down at the floor. “I know the duke hurt your heart, and it’s the worst kind of hurt anyone can have. But I believe there’s a gentleman out there who’ll appreciate you for who you are.”
“Thank you,” Emma said as she leaned in and kissed his cheek. The poor man tried to hide his blush by turning away, but Emma had seen it quite clearly. He truly was a dear man.
When Stephen had left for home, and Emma had poured herself a glass of wine, she gazed out the window. Stars twinkled in the sky as her mind thought on Lucas, the pain in her heart still fresh. The man had taken wondrous steps to control his temper, but now it consumed him once again. Despite his anger, however, she could not help but have a great affection for him, and she suspected that would remain the case for some time.
Stephen had said that, somewhere in the many villages that dotted the English countryside, a man existed who would appreciate her for the person she was. However, as she looked out upon the now-empty street, she could not help but cling to the hope that the man of whom Stephen spoke was Lucas.
Chapter Twenty
Emma was thankful when the day she was to have dinner with the baron had arrived, although the days waiting had been excruciating. The finer points of their agreement had to be clarified before it was too late. She looked forward to ending that madness and then moving on to securing the new accounts he had promised.
The idea excited her. In just over two weeks, she would have enough funds to pay up the rent she owed, thus appeasing the baron and hopefully beginning a new future. A small part of her worried the baron would be angry, for she had seen the lust in his eyes. He looked at her as some sort of prize he had won, but she was no such thing. Her heart belonged to one man, and that was certainly not the baron.
She had sent Stephen home early, and now, as she was wont to do, she watched people as they strolled down the footpath. It was a particular habit she had, but it was also a game. As she observed the various people, she would attempt to guess about who they were. What types of relationships did they have? What occupations? Where might they be going? And why? It was all a bit silly, if she was truly honest with herself, but she found the game took her mind off whatever was bothering her at the time.
A couple strolled past, and the woman glanced in Emma’s direction, her eyes going wide. She spoke to the man beside her and entered the office.
“Emma!” the woman said with clear glee. “I cannot believe it is you!” She hurried over and gave Emma a hug.
“Susan, it is so good to see you,” Emma replied, kissing the cheek of the woman who had been a friend from long ago. “How are you? And how is Ephraim?”
Her friend waved a hand in the air. “Oh, he is busy most days, but that does not matter. I have money to spend on new dresses and activities to keep me busy.” She looked Emma up and down, and the tiniest of grimaces appeared on the corner of her lips. It was gone so quickly, Emma was not certain she had seen it.
Rather than concern herself, Emma smiled. Susan spoke the truth about her own success. The dress she wore was beautiful, far nicer than anything Emma had ever owned. Regardless, Emma was pleased her friend had married well and was happy in her new life.
Sadness filled her when Susan glanced around the office in apparent distaste. “How is your fat
her?”
The question caught Emma off-guard for a moment. “He is well.” She regretted lying to her friend, but if even one more person learned the truth, she would never keep any of the accounts she had. “I am helping him with the bookkeeping and enjoying doing so.”
“You were always the one who found such things entertaining,” Susan said with a shake to her head. She reached out and took Emma’s hand. “I must ask you something.”
Alarm filled Emma, but she could not understand why. She and Susan had been longtime friends and had shared the most intimate of secrets of how they would each marry a man of courage and wealth.
“Why did you choose to become a spinster?” Susan asked. “You realize it is why we cannot be seen with you nor invite you to parties, do you not?”
“We?”
Susan sighed. “The old friends such as Hannah and Rebeca. While we chose to court, you chose to bury your nose in ledgers. It is a bit off-putting, you know?”
There were many things Emma wished to tell the woman whose parents spent every pence they had on assuring their daughter was presentable to men who had money. Although Susan’s parents had some wealth, they had struggled just as many others had. Now, she seemed to have forgotten what life was like for those of the lower class, and Emma could not deny the hurt she felt over the arrogance and judgment she saw in her former friend.
“I am sorry you view me as off-putting,” Emma said, removing her hands from Susan’s. “Some things are beyond my control, but…” She stopped when a carriage pulled up in front of the office.
Susan turned back to Emma. “So, the rumors are true. I know that carriage and driver. You are keeping company with the Baron Miggs.”
“I am,” Emma replied, feeling her defenses rise. “However, it is only business I am conducting with him and nothing more.”
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