A Bride for the Betrayed Earl

by Bridget Barton

  Emmeline took a deep breath and sat so far away from him that she was pressed into the wooden arm of the bench. She could see that he was regarding her curiously and had noted her determination to have some space between them. However, she was pleased to note that he did not immediately seek to close that gap. Instead, he remained where he was, still turning the Walter Scott book over and over in his hands. When Emmeline remained silent, her cousin began to speak again.

  “At Croston Hall, I thought I detected a particular regard in you,” he began, and Emmeline’s head began to whirl. “You did not seem to mind then that we sat so closely side-by-side.” He smiled at her, and it was a knowing smile.

  The smile angered her and made her feel frustrated all at once. He thought he knew her, and he had decided that she was as interested in him as he seemed to be in her. But he was a man who did not listen, a man who did not pay attention to what was around him. Unless, of course, the matter at hand was absolutely none of his business, then his attention could not be diverted by anything else on earth. He really was a dreadful little character, and she suddenly wished herself a hundred miles away.

  “I was not comfortable, Sir. I had thought you might have detected that rather than any particular regard. But it seems you did not note my discomfort at all.”

  “I do not see any need for you to have been uncomfortable with my presence.” He sounded a little insulted.

  “I was not uncomfortable with your presence, Sir, just your proximity.” The truth was that she had been made uncomfortable by his presence and his proximity.

  However, her cousin now looked so downcast and insulted that she felt it incumbent upon herself to make some reparation, if only in a small way.

  “Perhaps you have simply not had enough time to get to know me.”

  “Perhaps,” Emmeline said, getting the terrible sense that she was being manipulated.

  “Tell me, have you had much time to get to know the Earl of Addison?”

  “We have become better acquainted, yes.” Once again, Emmeline was furious.

  She now wished that she had not tried to spare his feelings in any way, shape, or form. The truth of the matter was that he did not deserve such consideration, and she would very well remember that in future.

  “I am surprised that you find yourself drawn to another gentleman so soon after your own bitter disappointment.” He spoke in such judgemental tones that she felt almost as if she were in the church on a Sunday morning.

  “My feeling on that subject is not really any of your business. I do not wish to appear antagonistic, but I do not owe you any explanations. You are my cousin and nothing more. You are not my father, and you have no control over me as I have already said. I find your intrusion most unwelcome.”

  “I do not mean to intrude; I only wish to assist and instruct where I can.

  “I do not need your instruction, nor do I accept it,” Emmeline spoke angrily.

  “But do you care nothing for your own reputation?”

  “My reputation most certainly is not at stake, and neither is it a source of any gossip, Mr Fitzgerald.” She almost spat the last words, so keen was she for him to know that they were no longer on friendly terms.

  “Not yet, but I do have the greatest of concerns. After all, there would be none in the county who would think it at all unusual if you were to accept a proposal of marriage from me.”

  “From you, Sir?” Emmeline said with a face which told him most clearly how she felt about such a prospect.

  “Everybody would understand the simplicity and practicality of such marriage. After all, I am sure that you would give almost anything to stay here at Tarlton Manor with your mother and sister. In truth, such an alliance would be most sensible and easily condoned by all.”

  “That is hardly a reason to marry. And I do not need to go out of my way to please society. And as for a proposal of marriage from you, Cousin, I would beg that you do not make one. If I have in any way led you to believe that there is some sympathy between us, that a proposal of yours would be accepted, or even welcomed, then I am sorry. But I think it is true to say that I have not done or said anything which would lead you to suspect such a thing.”

  “But the Earl of Addison has not yet made such a proposal, am I right?”

  “No, the Earl has not made a proposal, but again, Sir, it is none of your business.” She rose angrily to her feet, fully determining to let him have the Walter Scott book rather than stay another moment in his company.

  “And if he does not make his proposal, assuming that is his intention, before the end of these next three months, then you might be in a position to reconsider your hard opinions, young lady.”

  “I can assure you now, Mr Fitzgerald, that regardless of any circumstance of my life, I would never, ever marry you.”

  At that moment, as she turned to leave, he reached out as if to grab her arm. However, Emmeline had perceived his movement and turned on her heel, running away from him before he had a chance to grab her at all.

  Chapter 16

  Emmeline had never thought that she would once again be standing in the ballroom at Ashton House. The very moment that she walked into it again, she was almost floored by the feelings of fear, panic, and humiliation that she had last felt there so very strongly.

  “You are managing very well indeed, Emmeline.” Hunter had almost whispered the words into her ear as they walked side-by-side into the great wedding celebration of the man she had once loved and the woman she had thought as close to her as a sister.

  The celebration had been set to take place in the beautiful grounds of Ashton House, but the day had been threatening rain, summer rain, from the moment the sun had come up, so Tristan Lennox and his wife had very quickly ordered their staff to make changes, moving everything that ought to have been outside into the ballroom.

  Emmeline had to admit that the organization had not suffered for the change of venue and that everything had been very well set out indeed. It all looked perfect, the food, flowers, but that summed up the Lennox household.

  As she thought back on it, Emmeline realized that, despite being extraordinarily wealthy, the Lennox family were always striving for something more. They had a very fine home, Ashton House being several times larger than Tarlton Manor, but it was not an old home, a home with character.

  That being said, there was nothing ostentatious about it; it did not strike one as the home of the newly rich. Everything was tasteful, the ballroom included. It was a vast room, although nothing in comparison to the ballroom at Addison Hall. The floor was highly polished wood which gleamed under the light of so many chandeliers which had been hurriedly lit to ward off the gloom of the day.

  The walls were off-white and the windows large and arched, giving the room a great feeling of light and space that she had always thought very pleasing.

  “Thank you, Hunter,” she said and smiled sadly at him.

  “You did very well throughout the ceremony. But do tell me if you want to leave anytime, and I shall have the carriage brought around.” Hunter lightly patted her forearm.

  The Earl of Addison had, as she had fully expected, been a great source of comfort to her throughout the entire day. When the invitations had first arrived, Emmeline had been almost floored by the idea of attending the wedding of the two people who had betrayed her more thoroughly than anybody else on earth could possibly have achieved.

  She had never expected to receive an invite and, when she discussed it with Hunter, he had put forward the theory that, having realized that the two of them were perhaps embarking on courtship, to have invited the Earl of Addison and not his particular friend would have been most awkward. But of course, to invite the Earl’s particular friend when she was the woman who had been betrayed was likely even more awkward. It seemed as if Christopher Lennox and Clara Lovett had found themselves in an impossible situation, and Emmeline, despite ordinarily being very far from spiteful, allowed herself a moment’s amusement on its accou
nt.

  “If it would make it easier for you, I can claim to be away from Addison on estate business, or something similar. In truth, after that, I would hardly think that your absence would need explaining.” Hunter had made it very clear that he did not expect her to attend the event at all.

  “No, I am sure that I shall manage, and if I do not go, it is as if I have something to be ashamed of. And I would not cast that feeling on my mother and sister; they do not deserve it. What they do deserve, Sir is a chance to hold their heads high, safe in the knowledge that I shall not crumble in front of anybody.”

  “I know that you will not crumble, Emmeline. You forget, I was there on that awful night, and I saw how bravely you managed. I hardly think that I could have managed so well myself, and I know, without doubt, that you will manage this dreadful wedding in the same stoic fashion.” They had been, once again, taking tea on the sunlit terrace of Addison Hall when he had broached the subject. They had been alone once more, her mother and sister greatly occupied in watching Algernon Rochester and his immense horse fly over great obstacles that he had set out for himself in the paddock for his own amusement. To have had a little audience was simply an extra he had not been expecting. “But I must say that although I realize that you will manage, I would not wish to see you make yourself manage. If it is going to be extraordinarily painful, then I think it is best avoided. I am not concerned with the outward appearance, you understand, but your own feeling on the matter. I would not have you made unhappy, Emmeline.”

  His words had been not only comforting but strangely provocative. He seemed to have become a little protective of her as if she was already his to protect. It was true that they had become friends, finding much in common, much of which she had never found in common with another if she was honest. And perhaps, in the end, that was all it was. It was true that they had decided to proceed with a marriage of convenience, a marriage without love. But there was nothing to say that there could not be like, even fond regard and, if he sought to protect her, Emmeline realized that it was likely that he sought to protect her as a friend.

  She had very quickly realized that her reasoning left her little flat. The idea that he had some little passion for her, a desire to protect her feelings and her heart, had quickened her pulse a little more than she would have liked. When she had, by necessity, talked herself out of such folly, she had been entirely deflated and mourned the loss of something that she knew, in truth, she had never had in the first place.

  Emmeline had quickly turned her attention to other things, knowing that she ought not to think about the Earl of Addison in such a way. And she knew, really knew, that she had thought of him once too often in a light which could easily have been seen as romantic. It was a light which must be shaded, that much she knew.

  In the end, Emmeline had insisted that she would go, citing her mother and sister as the reason. She wanted things to have an air of normality about them, and she told Hunter that surely this was the best way of achieving such a thing.

  Emmeline had thought the church service would be very much harder than it had actually turned out to be. The moment she had walked into the church and followed Hunter to his family pew with her mother and sister in tow, her eyes had flown to where Christopher Lennox stood, facing front, rigid and clearly nervous.

  From what she could see of the back of him, he was dressed very smartly and handsomely indeed. His cream breeches were immaculate and very pale in colour. His tailcoat was dark but not black, rather it was a very deep gray. Although she could not see his face, Emmeline already knew that the colour would suit him perfectly. With his red-brown hair, pale skin, and pale blue eyes, she knew that he would look very handsome indeed if she could see his face.

  The church she had been in week in week out for her entire life looked prettier than she had ever seen it. There were flowers everywhere, in great vases and on stands. Flowers were tied neatly to the end of each pew with tiny bunches of little white carnations and pink roses.

  As she sat regarding the beautiful flowers, closing her eyes to pick up the delicate fragrance, she felt sadness wash over her. This ought to have been her wedding day, not Clara Lovett’s. These flowers should have been hers, and these well-wishers here to see her married to her first love.

  Emmeline could hardly imagine that just weeks before, she had assumed that all of this would be hers. This day was hers, this celebration hers, this life hers.

  But it was not hers anymore; it was a life that had been ripped away from her without a word, without the smallest attempt at an apology for it. She had been treated very cruelly, and with such contempt that the feeling threatened to overwhelm her, and she almost rose to her feet and walked smartly from the church. It was not that she was devastated, however, or even suddenly unable to cope. It was that she was angry, suddenly furious with Christopher and Clara and their casual treatment of her feelings.

  They had each secured her friendship easily, and she had given it most willingly. That they thought they did not even owe her an explanation, that they could simply brush her away from their lives with a cowardly and cruel act of public humiliation, fanned the flames of her anger.

  Well, she would not rise from her seat and scurry out of the church. She would not mourn the loss of a man who had no more bravery in his heart than a field mouse. But neither would she celebrate this wedding and wish them well, for it was true to say that she did not. Such treachery, such cruelty, did not deserve reward.

  At that moment, the moment she had resolved to stay, music began to play, and heads turned to watch Clara Lovett walk down the aisle on her father’s arm.

  As all the church turned to look at Clara, Emmeline kept her eyes front for a moment, watching as the man she loved turned to look over his shoulder at his approaching bride. However, he did not immediately look at his bride but straight into the eyes of the only person in the church who was looking at him; Emmeline.

  To see her there, to come eye to eye with her over a few short yards, seemed to have brought Christopher Lennox up short. He stared at her as if unable to look away, and Emmeline, for her part, was equally drawn. However, she had not been drawn in the way she would have expected. She was not drawn out of love or sadness or the deepest of despair to look into the eyes of the man she had loved dearly, but instead, she was drawn to look out of pure and unadulterated curiosity.

  Above all things, curiosity had not been what she had expected from herself on that day, not for a moment. And it was not a curiosity which had any self-interest whatsoever, for it was almost an idle curiosity, the sort of regard one might give to a situation which is of interest, but not personal interest. At that moment, Emmeline felt unexpectedly liberated.

  What she saw in Christopher’s eyes was something altogether different. There was, of course, the guilt and even a little shame, things which she had expected to see. But there was something else as well, and it was a look that she recognized, a look which gave her a sudden jolt. She had certainly seen it before, and she instantly knew where.

  Emmeline had seen the same look in the eyes of Felicity Burton, the Duchess of Galcross. It was sadness and, worst of all, of definite regret. In fact, it was a regret that looked so deep that Emmeline could hardly continue to regard him. She could not imagine that she could look into those eyes a moment longer and remain unaffected.

  It was not, she realized, that she would suffer any similar regrets herself. In fact, as she looked at him, as handsome as he was, Christopher Lennox had become insubstantial in some way. Inasmuch as she had felt lessened in the eyes of society by his actions, to regard him at that moment and to recognize that he was trapped and fearful of the life which was heading towards him at speed along the church aisle, Christopher Lennox had become lessened in her eyes. And, right then, she truly was free. She no longer felt herself to be on display, a curiosity for everybody else to study as the wedding took place. Emmeline had ascended a little as if she was hovering far above it all, a person unaff
ected in any way.

  Realizing that they must break that curious enchantment, Emmeline smiled at him. It was neither a warm smile nor an angry one. It was not designed in any way to entreat him or repel him. It was simply a smile, one that she might have given to any acquaintance who had looked her way. And the look on his face told her that he had recognized that, that he had felt whatever old bond had still lain between them suddenly shattered, broken into pieces, never to be restored. He looked lost, bereft, and Emmeline almost pitied him.

  Finally, she turned her attention to the young woman who was walking down the aisle towards her new life. The young woman with bright blonde hair and a round, rather large face and eyes. Pretty, but not beautiful, her wedding gown was perfect, as was her hair and the look of contentment on her face.

  It was in seeing Clara Lovett that Emmeline felt her greatest source of sadness. Clara had not looked around to see where it was her old friend sat, nor did she give any indication that she cared for a single moment how Emmeline Fitzgerald might be coping. What Emmeline saw, what she knew she had seen, was a selfish sort of satisfaction, the satisfaction of a woman who was getting what she wanted at any cost.

  She had never thought, in so many years, that Clara Lovett could have been such a woman. To discover that she was, to see it again that day in the church, upset Emmeline greatly.

  By the time they had reached Ashton House, and Hunter Bentley was enquiring after her well-being, Emmeline could hardly explain to him what it was that had laid her so low and made her quiet. All she could do was reassure him that she would manage very well and, in the end, she did just that.

  Chapter 17

  Hunter had to admit that he much preferred a good old-fashioned game of poker, a game where a little money changed hands, to a very sober afternoon of bridge.

  When Giles Calloway had made the suggestion on their last meeting, quietly so that the ladies might not hear, Hunter had been most receptive, as had Algernon.