by Laura Landon
“Then why aren’t you interested in the money that would come with me if I marry?”
“Because the price it would cost me is far too high.”
She hesitated. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t know,” Jonah continued, “but neither my father nor my elder brother were good stewards of what they inherited. I tried to rein in their spending, but nothing I said or did made them change their wastrel living. I finally gave up trying. When the war started, I joined Her Majesty’s army.”
“And came home with a scar on your face.”
She said it in such a matter-of-fact tone, and yet one that was infused with notes of compassion, that he was momentarily startled. Her understanding loosed a cord deep within him that he only now realized had been strung as tightly as an archer’s bow.
“Yes. It happened in the last battle of the war. A sabre wound.”
Jonah found himself frozen in the moment as Lady Emma lifted her hand and pressed her fingers against the scar that ran down his cheek. Her touch was gentle yet clinical, probing as a physician might. He had never imagined that any woman would be brave enough to touch his pitiful, puckered flesh. And yet she had. With mesmerizing tenderness.
He dropped his eyes and continued speaking when she lowered her hand. “My father and my brother both died while I was gone. I returned to no family and an insurmountable pile of debts that I have yet to repay.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“There’s no need to be sorry. My brother died the same way he lived. Reckless and in debt.” Jonah paused. “He’d been accused of cheating in a card game, and died in a duel.”
Jonah sensed her stiffen beside him. He knew he’d touched a raw nerve. He was admitting that his brother was exactly the kind of man she least wanted to know. Bloody hell, he was about to admit that he himself was no better.
“Two years ago, the Earl of Westshield offered me an enticing proposition. I had just returned from the war and was still recovering from my wounds. I hadn’t been out in public yet and very few of the townspeople even knew I was home.”
“What did Lord Westshield offer you?”
“He offered to pay all my debts if I would agree to marry his daughter.”
“You were the man Lady Constance was intended to marry?”
Lady Emma gave him an incredulous look.
“Yes. I was the man. Except dear Constance was not pleased with our betrothal.”
Lady Emma gave his arm a compassionate squeeze.
“The lady took one look at me and screamed in fright. Several times she refused to marry me but her father would not give in. When he demanded a final time that she had no choice but to marry me, she did exactly what you did. She ran away before spending even one night under my roof.”
“But that should have put an end to it, surely.”
“How many times I’ve wished it had. But her father found her at the inn in town and brought her back. After, of course, the lady had caused quite a scene. She’d informed everyone within shouting distance that I was a horribly disfigured monster and that I was mentally deranged from my time and experiences during the war.”
“Oh, my lord,” she said on a sigh. “How dreadful.”
“As you can imagine, the people of Glastonbury believed what the lady told them. They feared meeting me, or even having me approach them.”
“Is that why no one comes to call?”
“Do you blame them?”
She answered his question with a dismissing shrug.
“Was Lady Constance fleeing from here when she died in that carriage accident?” Lady Emma asked after a few moments.
“Carriage accident?”
“Outside London?”
“Ah,” Jonah said. “I always wondered what reason her parents gave for her death.”
“You mean, she didn’t—”
“No.” He could have left it there. He could have let her go on thinking that was the manner in which the distraught Lady Constance had died. But some force that now existed between himself and Lady Emma bade him to speak only the truth. And so he did.
“The lady took her own life.”
This was the first time he’d related to anyone what had happened that fateful week. The look of shock on Lady Emma’s face was evidence that much of Society had been spared the truth.
“Oh, my lord. I am so sorry. But not sorry that you escaped being married to such an unstable female.”
“Perhaps. But there’s also a certain amount of guilt that’s associated with what happened.”
“Please, my lord. The guilt is not yours to bear.”
“Perhaps not entirely, but in part.”
“Did Lord Westshield give you a reason why he was so desperate for his daughter to marry?”
Jonah shook his head. “I can only surmise.”
A look passed between them, and he saw that she recognized his conjecture that his bride-to-be had been with child.
“But I never asked. I didn’t care. I didn’t love her. All that mattered at the time was the amount of money I would get if I married her and how many improvements I could make to Glassborough Estate.”
Jonah felt again the anguish of that horrid time in his life and tried to forget it. The money he’d expected to receive had been so blasted important that it was all he could think about at the time. He had carelessly told himself that in time the female he was supposed to marry would become accustomed to his looks. That she’d find his grisly features less gruesome. He told himself that once they were married, he’d do everything in his power to make sure she didn’t regret marrying him.
But nothing worked out the way he’d planned. The lady had chosen death rather than life as mistress of his household. Her mother had found her daughter’s lifeless body the morning of their wedding.
Jonah caught Lady Emma watching him, and she quickly turned toward the room.
“She did this.” Lady Emma swept her hand to encompass the room.
Jonah had been on the verge of assuring Lady Emma that while he had once been the very type of man she sought to avoid, she need never concern herself with any advances from him to marry her in order to get the money that would be hers. He wanted to assure her that he’d learned a harsh lesson from the last female who had been forced to marry him—that even death was preferable to spending life with a deformed monster.
But he could not.
He’d destroyed a woman once over money. How could he know he wouldn’t do it again?
And then there was the matter of his temper.
“No. She didn’t do this.”
He strode to the door and turned sharply just before he reached the hallway.
“I did.”
Chapter 5
Emma slowly opened her eyes. Her afternoon in the morning room, with its soul-searching revelations by her host, had sapped her of energy. She wasn’t sure how long she’d slept, but it must have been several hours. The sun was high in the sky, the same as it had been when she’d fallen asleep. From the way she felt, it may well have been an entire day.
She turned her head to watch Mrs. Jefferies enter the room after knocking softly at the door.
“Ah, you’re awake,” she said, then set the tray she carried on the bedside table.
Emma rubbed her eyes. “How long did I sleep?”
“A little more than a day, my lady. I haven’t seen the master so worried ever. He checked on you more times than I could count.”
“He did?”
“Yes,” she said, then helped Emma to sit. She placed several pillows behind Emma’s back, then handed her a cup of hot chocolate and a toast point laden with butter and jam.
“This is just what I needed,” Emma said. “I can’t remember when I ate last.”
“That’s what I thought,” Mrs. Jefferies smiled. “His lordship wanted me to bring up a breakfast of eggs and bacon and ham and toast and sausage and pastries and kidneys and fried potatoes, but Cook told
him you’d get sick if you ate that much after going without food for so long.”
Emma smiled. “This is plenty.” She finished her chocolate, then set down her cup and took a bite of toast.
“Thank you, Mrs. Jefferies. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“You’re most welcome, my lady. Just ring if you need anything else.”
The housekeeper pointed to a bell sitting on the bedside table.
“Perhaps in an hour or so, you’ll help me dress so I can get out of bed.”
“I’m not sure the master will approve of you getting out of bed.”
“I won’t get stronger if I stay in bed another day.”
“We’ll see,” the housekeeper said, then left the room.
Emma knew she needed to begin moving about if she intended to get stronger. The same as she knew she needed to get stronger in order to be on her way. And she needed to be on her way before her stepbrother found her.
She had to be on the next ship sailing to America. She simply had to.
With great effort, Emma rose and dressed, then sat down in the chair beside the window. She had been forced to sit and rest several times while she dressed. It surprised her how exhausted she was. How weak she became from doing something so simple.
Emma sat in the cushioned chair and looked out the window.
The snow had stopped, but it was too deep to risk traveling. As if she were strong enough to travel, which she was not. Neither did she know how long it would be before she felt confident to travel on her own.
She was considering what lay ahead of her when a tentative knock sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
The door opened to reveal the Earl of Glassborough standing in her doorway. He was dressed formally, now, not covered in work debris as he had been the day before. But there was little evidence of the confidence he’d exhibited atop the scaffolding and through the early minutes of their conversation in the morning room.
“When Mrs. Jefferies told me you intended to get out of bed, I had a feeling that I’d find you up and dressed.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “And so you are.”
She smiled.
“Yes, my lord. A testament to your magnificent care.”
His lordship seemed startled by such praise, and covered his discomfort by stepping into the room to sit in a chair next to her, leaving the door fully ajar.
“May I”?
Her smile grew wider. “By all means.”
“I brought the book you were reading yesterday.”
Glassborough held out the small leather-bound volume of poetry and Emma took it. “That’s very kind of you, my lord.”
“Not at all.” He looked about. “Have you any coffee in that pot?”
“It’s chocolate, my lord. It should still be hot. Would you care for some?”
At his nod she rose and poured steaming cocoa into the second cup Mrs. Jefferies had placed on the tray.
“I must apologize for losing this lovely day to sleep,” she said as he accepted the cup. “I thought I was stronger than I am.”
“You were badly injured when that branch fell on you. You need time to heal.”
Emma’s heart beat faster. “But that’s just what I don’t have, Lord Glassborough. Time. By now, Gerald has returned to Willowbrook Hall and discovered that I’m missing. I’m sure he has begun his search for me.”
“You are safe as long as you stay hidden. I doubt your brother will even think to look for you here.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because even if he inquires in the village, he will be told that everyone in his right mind avoids Glassborough Estate. The villagers believe that I am insane.”
Emma’s eyebrows shot upward. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You think so?”
“Of course I do. You’re as sane as I am.”
Lord Glassborough offered a crooked smile, then lifted his cup to salute her. “Thank you for the vote of confidence.”
Emma returned Jonah’s salute with a wink and a smile. She wasn’t just being kind. She meant it, and infused her words with the weight of a mother telling her quaking child not to fear the dark. You’re as sane as I am. She would say it as often as this good man needed to hear it.
A long moment later her host returned his cup to the tea tray and rose from his chair. He seemed deep in thought as he walked to the window where he braced his hands on either side of the window frame and looked outside.
Emma watched his shoulders stiffen as if the weight they carried was too heavy to bear. His fists tightened around the wooden window frame. Even though he pretended that what the villagers thought of him didn’t matter, she could see that it did.
“I want you to know, my lady, that you need never fear advances from me with regard to the money that will rightfully become yours on your birthday. If I learned anything from what happened before, it is to be content with what I have and not rely on an unwilling female to free me of my debts.”
“I have never considered you a threat, my lord.”
“I am glad to hear that, my lady. I refuse to involve another female in resolving my financial dilemma. In fact, that whole ordeal thoroughly soured me on the very idea of marriage. We are of like minds in that regard, madam.” He paused and ran a hand through his hair. “I cannot force another female to look at this face every morning when she wakes, or be forced to endure the looks of pity on the villagers’ faces because the poor woman I married is saddled with such a monstrous man.”
As she watched the tension in his face escalate, Emma was struck by Lord Glassborough’s earnestness.
“Surely you exaggerate, my Lord. Certainly you have nothing to fear in that regard.” She smiled. “You also have nothing to fear from me, my lord. I have made my intentions clear from the beginning. I am committed to making my way to America, and once there I intend to change my name and go someplace where Gerald will never find me.”
“Do you know where you will go?” Lord Glassborough asked as he turned fully toward her.
Emma shook her head. “I’m not sure yet. I tried to discover places where I can get lost in the crowds, but I didn’t have time to study too thoroughly. I couldn’t risk Gerald discovering what I was doing for fear he’d realize I was planning an escape.”
“What cities have you considered?”
“New York City, of course, the largest of American cities. It seems to offer the most opportunities for getting lost. Then, I’ve thought that Boston might do. Or Philadelphia. But I haven’t researched the last two choices to become familiar with either of them.” Emma lifted her gaze and looked at Lord Glassborough. “Have you been to America?”
He gave her a speculative look as he clasped his hands behind his back. “I have not. But I do believe you should avoid New York. Every immigrant passes through a place called Ellis Island. Surely all one had to do to discover you were in New York City would be to bribe the immigrant registrar or one of his minions. In fact,” he continued, “the names might actually be a simple matter of public record.”
“Really.” Emma slumped in her chair. This was awful. She had no idea it might be so easy to detect her presence halfway around the world. What was she thinking? She’d escape her stepbrother’s clutches here only to walk straight into his grasp in a strange and hostile country.
Slow panic began to trickle up from the pit of her stomach.
“I have an idea, though.” Lord Glassborough took two steps and resumed his seat.
She heard him speak, even while her mind was still in the throes of dealing with the bubble of hope his words had just burst.
“Emma?”
Slowly she realized that Lord Glassborough had reached for her, and before she could think to move, his large hand covered her own. It was warm, roughened by work, and comforting in the most intimate way.
She looked up.
“Emma,” he repeated.
“Yes?”
“Let me help you.
I’ll obtain passage on a trading vessel, a ship belonging to a friend of mine, Captain Russell, who takes goods to Virginia. His wife often goes to sea with him. She can be your companion.”
“No, I couldn’t involve you. I—”
“But you must.” He moved to the edge of his chair and turned his earnest face toward her. “This way your name will never appear on any manifest. And Captain Russell will see you settled in Virginia. I promise you, he’s a man whose character is above reproach. I served with him in the war. He was my commanding officer.”
“I couldn’t possibly, I—”
As she began to object, her eyes searched his, and the sincerity she saw there silenced her. In the next instant Emma felt him raise her hand from her lap. Ever so gently he turned her hand palm upwards and with immense care gently uncurled her fingers that had been clenched into a fist. His finger traced the marks left by her fingernails.
“Let me do this for you.”
His voice was little more than a whisper, sending blissful waves of comfort traversing her veins, carrying this good man’s promise straight to her heart. He was kindness personified. What great good fortune had landed her in his care?
His eyes glimmered like melting gold, stealing any reservations she might have had. He was telling the truth. He would orchestrate her escape.
“Thank you, my lord,” she breathed. “I don’t know what to say.”
Her heart pounded in her throat, whether from the assistance he offered her, or his display of passion. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t help but be affected.
“Just say yes. It will be my pleasure to help you escape the destiny your stepbrother intends for you.”
Lord Glassborough rose to his feet, still holding her hand. “Now let’s adjourn to the library and search for any books that might describe life in America. I may even have a map of America’s eastern seaboard.”
Emma rose, somehow regretting that now she would have to drop his hand that had seemed so perfectly natural joined with her own.
“Do you know when your Captain Russell will be sailing next?”
He shook his head as he led the way through to the hall and down the stairs. “I’m not sure if he’s returned from his current voyage. If he has, I’ll make arrangements for you to sail on his next trip.”