The Reunion

by Sara Portman

  He looked uncertainly at her aunt and then back again. “I am sincerely sorry that I do not. Please don’t take offense at my poor memory. Four years is a long absence and I’m afraid I’ve found much to be unfamiliar.”

  Of course. He had not decided to be solicitous after all. He had no intention of paying his respects to his betrothed. He hadn’t even taken the time to have her pointed out. Well, if he was still in the dark, he could rot there.

  She turned to her aunt. “I believe we should go.” She didn’t wait for confirmation, but turned and walked directly away.

  “Emmaline, wait.”

  She did not pause at her aunt’s words, but kept her course for the door until she felt a strong grip close around her arm, halting her progress. She wrenched her arm from the duke’s grasp and spun to face him.

  He loomed large above her, his blue eyes peering. “What is your full name, Emmaline?”

  She hated that she could feel her cheeks flush. Of what had she to be ashamed? “My name is Lady Emmaline Shaw, and I was just leaving. Good evening, Your Grace.”

  Once again, the strength of his grip prevented her departure. She turned again to give him the full measure of her dissatisfaction, but his look was one of such sheer bafflement, she almost pitied him.

  She exhaled impatiently. “Oh, for heaven’s sake. Let’s have this out, shall we?” She turned to Aunt Agatha, who seemed as lost as the duke. “Perhaps the three of us could seek out some privacy in which to discuss matters.”

  Aunt Agatha looked from Emma to the duke and back to Emma. “I think that would be wise.”

  Emma stalked toward the center staircase with her aunt following closely. She didn’t turn to determine whether or not the insufferable duke trailed them.

  Chapter Three

  John walked into what he assumed to be the Duke of Fairhaven’s study and stared in disbelief at the woman who’d strode confidently into the room ahead of him.

  “Your Grace.” Her sharp tone had softened only slightly to one of condescension and she looked directly, challengingly, at him with golden brown eyes. Her almost imperceptible curtsy matched her haughty demeanor. “How thoughtful of you to remember me after so many years. We were engaged, of course, but we only met the once, didn’t we?”

  John was momentarily speechless. How the hell had this happened? Over the past few hours, he’d learned his betrothed had lost her parents, all but withdrawn from society, and had no suitors but an aging widower with a brood of children. Yet no one felt compelled to share the most pertinent piece of information—that she’d been in attendance all evening?

  Could this sharp-tongued woman be his fiancée? He examined her face and tried to recognize some trait of the younger girl, but his memory of her features was not sharp enough from the one brief meeting. She seemed taller than her younger self, though her erect posture might have been the difference. More dramatically, she no longer carried the childlike plumpness he recalled—just the curves of a woman.

  He shook his head. “Lady Emmaline, may I say in my defense, you’ve changed much since I last saw you.”

  “That’s to be expected, is it not, over the course of four years?” she asked tightly. She selected a small chair near the center of the room and primly lowered herself into it.

  “I suppose it is.” He somewhat recovered his wits and took a chair as well. The years had been inordinately kind to his former fiancée. The lank brown hair he recalled was now silky chestnut. Tendrils of it strayed from her twist and danced against creamy skin that descended into the full bosom of her rust-colored gown. He was more confused than ever as to why she had not chosen to marry after his announced death. Could she possibly have imagined herself too grief-stricken at his death to have married another?

  “I must tell you, Lady Emmaline, how it pains me to know that you suffered, believing me dead, and what a shock my return must be for you. If I could have spared you the experience, I would have done so.”

  She regarded him coolly. “Were you unconscious, then, for the better part of four years?”

  “I was not,” he conceded, resisting the upward tug of his lips.

  “You lost your memory, perhaps?”

  “Ah… no.”

  “I didn’t expect so.” She pressed her lips together.

  “Emmaline…” The aunt stepped forward, but lost her nerve. She took a seat near the door.

  John turned back to his fiancée. “I understand it was difficult for you, to lose your parents and prospective bridegroom all at once.”

  “Save your contrition,” she snapped, “for those who would be inclined to accept it. A society full of marriage-minded parents may be too overcome with joy at your homecoming to notice the dubiousness of your absence. I have no such distraction.”

  He smiled because he couldn’t help himself. She was just so different from all the hopeful, naïve, and frankly silly girls he’d been showing his attention to all evening. She bore absolutely no resemblance to her prior self. He had either entirely misjudged her or she was completely transformed. “I see you’ve developed quite an assertive nature in the meantime.”

  “I don’t see how you could possibly be in a position to make a comparison of my nature, Your Grace, given that you do not know me now and you certainly did not know me then.”

  “I believe I may be gaining a bit of insight today,” he told her with a wry half smile. He was more awake now than he’d been all evening. What sort of strange glutton for punishment was he that this sharp-tongued set-down was the first bit of this event he’d found genuinely entertaining?

  “Your gaining insight into my nature is completely unnecessary,” she said, her chin lifting. “Allow me to rescue you from an awkward conversation, Your Grace. You are released. I formally acknowledge your consideration in recognizing the prior contract between our parents, but as both parties to that contract are now deceased, I do not consider you bound to honor it. I will break the engagement, allowing you to keep your gentleman’s reputation unblemished.”

  His amused grin collapsed into a mien of pure confusion. “You are releasing me?”

  “I am.” She folded her hands complacently in her lap and continued to regard him in an infuriatingly calm manner. She released a resigned sigh as though the entire situation were an inconvenience she’d as soon be done with.

  “Your Grace,” she continued, “I’m sure you expected your altered intentions to shatter the hopes of a desperate, unmarried spinster. It’s obviously been a blow to your ego to discover that I am perfectly content with the dissolution of our arrangement.” She paused as though she expected he needed a moment to catch up.

  Which he supposed he did. He couldn’t believe it. Surely her pride was not so injured she would choose an elderly widower over the opportunity to be a duchess? He had expected her to accept her fate out of an inability to object, but this woman was not frightened in the least. Would she be so irresponsible as to decline the offer of a secure and comfortable future? He wasn’t sure how to react, what to say. She, however, seemed to have no shortage of words.

  “I apologize for preventing you from delivering what I’m sure was to be a heartfelt and carefully worded speech,” she told him matter-of-factly. “Had I understood your sensitive pride, I should have allowed you to speak first, of course.” Her smile brimmed with sweet innocence, but the flecks of amber fire in her eyes belied the serenity of her expression.

  “How considerate,” he mocked. Why did he continue to prick her ire?

  But he knew why. He wished he possessed a fraction of her fervency. When all he felt was his customary cold, steady resolve, engaging her felt like warming himself at a fire.

  “I always endeavor to be.” She smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle in her skirt and looked expectantly up at him.

  John wasn’t certain whether to laugh or applaud. Far from the shy mouse of his memory, the Lady Emmaline that sat across from him today was an admirable opponent. She’d successfully reduced him to stunned si
lence and, as his sister could attest, he was rarely silent. Yet he surprised even himself when he told her, “Madam, I appreciate your…f lexibility…as it pertains to our marriage contract. I, however, do not find myself to be quite so flexible.”

  Her golden eyes flew to his. He watched a gratifying flash of fear and annoyance cross them.

  “I don’t understand,” she told him, yet he could tell by her wary expression she understood quite clearly.

  “Lady Emmaline,” he explained, lest there be any confusion, “I do not release you.”

  Chapter Four

  Emma stared. What could he be thinking? Of course he didn’t want to follow through on their ridiculous betrothal.

  “I don’t believe you,” she said.

  His look was dubious. “I’m not asking you to accept an unknown on faith. I’m telling you, you are not released. What is there to disbelieve?”

  “I do not believe you have any desire or intent to marry me any more than I do you. What I do believe is that you expected a desperate girl who would be disconsolate at your rejection. I believe you feel robbed of your authority as the one who grants and takes away.” She gripped the wooden arms of her chair and peered at him. “Is your ego really so bruised you would punish me by threatening to push forward with this ridiculous engagement? You would bat me around like a cat’s toy just to remind me of your superiority?”

  Truly, how cruel could he possibly be? The arrogance. Never mind that he was a duke; he was a man. Like a child in the throes of a tantrum, he was too focused on imposing his will to be concerned with the actual outcome of preference.

  The duke leaned back and crossed his arms. “I have no wish to punish you, Lady Emmaline. Only to marry you.”

  She looked around the room, wishing some rational person might pop out from behind the curtains or under Fairhaven’s desk to serve as witness to this ridiculousness. Aunt Agatha said nothing and no other was forthcoming. She glared at him again. “You lie.”

  He let his arms drop and met her gaze directly. “On the contrary, I could not be more genuine. I am in need of a wife and came to London for that purpose. As it happens, I am already engaged to a perfectly acceptable lady, saving me considerable time and effort in searching one out. The solution is really quite simple.”

  She leaned forward in her chair and lanced him with her severest look. “Do you deny you arrived here today for the express purpose of selecting a bride from among the new debutantes?”

  He leaned forward as well and met her look without guile. “No. I don’t deny it.”

  She sat back in her chair. “Well, then. We are in agreement. I appreciate your…”

  “I came here for that purpose,” he interjected, “but I find I have changed my mind.”

  “Changed your mind?”

  “Indeed.” He looked a bit nonplussed himself by the revelation.

  “Ridiculous.” She spoke the word aloud, but to her aunt rather than to him. Clearly, explaining to him the ridiculousness of his position would be futile. “Could you please help me explain, Aunt Agatha, the absolute absurdity of this notion?”

  Aunt Agatha bore the look of a trapped animal. She gave a delicate cough before responding. “Perhaps we should at least listen to his explanations, dear.” She turned her attention to the duke. “You do, I hope, have explanations, Your Grace?”

  “Certainly.” He smiled at Aunt Agatha as though pegging her an ally then faced Emma again. “Don’t you want to know why I have changed my mind?” His impenetrable confidence set her fingers itching.

  “Very well, Your Grace,” she ground out. “Pray tell me, why have you changed your mind?” She couldn’t imagine what sort of excuse he could possibly fabricate.

  “The situation is this: I find I require a wife with specific…attributes. When I learned of our continued engagement, I was convinced from our prior encounter that you did not possess those attributes. Our conversation has proven otherwise.”

  “I see.” She did not see at all. He was baiting her still, she was certain of it. “And what would those attributes be that I have demonstrated so well in our brief meeting? Could it be that you simply require a wife with all her limbs and teeth, Your Grace?” She crossed her arms. “Or perhaps you require a wife who is not deaf or mute? I suppose I have aptly demonstrated my ability in those areas.”

  Absurdly, he smiled at her then, as though she had said the most charming thing imaginable. “You have just demonstrated it—perfectly so. I seek a wife with a spine—one who will not shrink from adversity. When most women would have acquiesced to rank, parental authority, and contractual obligation, you’ve proven instead you have backbone to spare. I not only admire that, Lady Emmaline, I’m counting on it.” He nodded as though she should feel congratulated by his words.

  The arrogance.

  Did he honestly believe she expected or would accept his compliments? This game had gone on long enough. She rose from her seat.

  “I will not be treated in this manner, and your rank, Your Grace, does not excuse you. As you refuse to participate in a rational conversation, I will just have to rely upon your earlier representation that you did, in fact, intend to dissolve our contract. Please consider it dissolved. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am tired and would like to return home with my aunt and uncle.”

  “Lady Emmaline…” He rose also and stepped closer.

  Her instinct as he advanced was to step back, but she would not grant him that power. She stood her ground.

  “Lady Emmaline, I find I must prove my intentions to be genuine. Since you require proof, I will call on you tomorrow with a ring of my grandmother’s. You may consider it a betrothal ring.”

  Could he be serious? That he would tease her with the betrothal made her angry, but could he actually intend to go through with it? She could scarcely breathe at the thought. She gaped at him. “You’re truly serious, aren’t you? You actually intend to marry me.”

  “Yes. I truly, actually intend to marry you. And when you consider all of the circumstances, I don’t think you will find the prospect so abhorrent.”

  The last restraints on her anger fell away. “Are you daft? Do you honestly not understand why I wouldn’t want to marry you—the man who once found the prospect of marriage to me so abhorrent he chose possible death on the battlefield as a preferable fate?

  “You arrive four years late,” she continued, “with no explanation or apologies and have the unmitigated gall to wonder why I am not brimming with gratitude for your consideration. Have you no conscience? You allowed everyone to believe you were dead. Your own father went to his grave believing he had no remaining heir, that his entire family had been lost to him.”

  The duke stepped back and adopted a sober expression. “I am greatly sorry, Lady Emmaline, that you were harmed by my actions. I can assure you, the timing of my departure in relation to our engagement was purely coincidental. There were matters of pressing importance to be handled abroad and I left without notice or preparation. I can also assure you I was not personally involved in the dissemination of inaccuracies pertaining to my death.”

  “Matters of pressing importance? This is the explanation I’m to receive? You expect me to believe it was a matter of pressing importance for you to flee to Spain to join the fight against Napoleon?”

  “I have only been to Spain once, Lady Emmaline, and that visit was not made in the past four years.”

  “You’re talking in riddles.”

  He stepped forward and met her gaze with an earnest expression. “You’ve asked for an explanation. That’s a fair and reasonable request.” His gaze moved among both ladies as he continued. “As I’ve explained, I find myself in urgent need of a wife.”

  Emma’s glare intensified.

  “I understand your duty as duke, Your Grace,” Aunt Agatha asked. “But is there some other reason for this urgency?”

  “I have a sister, Charlotte,”—his expression softened as he spoke her name—“who is of an age to make h
er debut in society. There will be… challenges…because her upbringing has been unorthodox. I seek a wife who will not shrink from those challenges. I was under the mistaken impression my current betrothed was too meek to serve the purpose.” He waved a hand toward her form as though presenting her for inspection. “My judgments have proven inaccurate. I would in fact wager, Lady Ridgley, that your niece possesses more backbone than any other lady of the ton.”

  Aunt Agatha squinted at the man as though she could make his words come better into focus. “I thought you had but one sister,” she said.

  “Correct.”

  Emma spoke up then. “Pardon my directness, Your Grace, but I understood your sister to have died as a young child.”

  The duke turned back to Emma and addressed her with no trace of humor. “I assure you she is alive and well and will arrive in England shortly.”

  Somehow, his clarifications managed to provide no clarity whatsoever. “Goodness,” she said tartly, well aware of her tone. “How many resurrections can one family possibly produce? Perhaps I should not be so confident in the validity of your title, Your Grace, when your departed father could turn up at any moment.”

  “Emma,” Aunt Agatha warned, but her tone lacked conviction.

  The duke paused, as though measuring his words carefully before he continued. “Just as you were falsely informed of my death four years ago, reports of my mother and sister’s deaths several years before were also inaccurate.”

  “But that information came directly from your father,” Aunt Agatha pointed out.

  “It did, but it was false,” he said grimly, his expression tightening at the mention of his father. “My mother and sister were alive and residing in Boston for many years. I only learned the truth when I gained my majority and my mother wrote to me through a solicitor to request my aid.”

  Emma sat again. The story was a bit fantastic. “That is why you left the country?”

  “It is. Within days of meeting you, I received word that my mother had taken gravely ill. I felt I had no choice but to go. I learned from a friend the story he circulated about my death.” He recovered his teasing smile as he glanced at Emma. “I assure you, I have never been the patriotic sort.”