Emma and the Earl (Bluestocking Bride Book 3)

by Samantha Holt

  “What is it?” asked Julia, lowering her cup of tea onto its saucer. “You keep smiling.”

  Emma’s gaze shot up and she forced her lips to straighten. “Nothing at all.”

  “I know that look,” Julia said smugly.

  “I think I do too.” Amelia smiled.

  “You do not know a thing,” Emma protested.

  “What is it?” asked Catherine.

  Amelia waved a hand at her sister. “We cannot talk about it in front of you.”

  “Oh, nonsense. You three do realize I am a grown woman, do you not? I know about it all.” Catherine huffed. “I might be smaller and younger than you all but I am not stupid.”

  “Could have fooled me,” said Julia under her breath.

  Catherine narrowed her gaze at their sister while Amelia sent her a reproachful look.

  “So all is well there, anyway?” asked Julia.

  “Yes.” Emma could not help but let that smile curve her lips all over again. “Yes, all is very well there. Except...”

  “Except?” asked Catherine who had moved to the edge of her seat.

  “Oh nothing.” Emma shook her head. As much as she appreciated her sisters’ support in trying to get Morgan to see how wonderful the countryside could be, she was not at all sure she needed them interfering in these matters. After all, some of their plans were not exactly the best plans one could come up with.

  Catherine straightened. “Do I need to kick him?”

  Emma laughed and shook her head. “No. You most certainly do not.”

  “You don’t need to threaten everyone, Catherine.” Amelia placed her teacup on the center table. “What happens when you meet a gentleman you like? Will you threaten him too?”

  Catherine licked the last bit of cream from her fingers and brushed the crumbs from her skirt. “I don’t like gentlemen. They’re all boring.”

  Amelia straightened. “Nicholas isn’t.”

  “Nor is Guy,” Julia protested.

  Emma remained quiet. She knew Morgan was far from boring but she was relieved to have turned the conversation away from her time in the marital bed with Morgan. It was hard enough to process without her sisters interfering.

  Catherine huffed. “Well they are the exception. Every other gentleman I’ve met is the dullest person on earth.”

  “How is that possible? Only one person can be the dullest person on earth,” Emma pointed out.

  “Well, just as I think I have met the dullest person, I meet another who can top him,” Catherine explained as though they were all simple indeed.

  “If this is a hint that you are going to run off with some scandalous rogue, I don’t want to hear a thing about it.” Amelia mimicked covering her ears. “We can do without another Cousin Bess scandal.”

  “Or an Emma one.” Julia chuckled.

  Emma poked her tongue out at her sister. “It was not my fault, and everything is fairly smoothed over. Though I hate to think of what the gossip in London is like.” She gave a mock shudder. “The longer we stay here, the better.”

  “I hope you do stay,” Amelia said softly. “Or at least return for the winter. I should very much like you to be around…” The words broke and tears shimmered in her eyes.

  “Amelia,” Emma exclaimed. “Even if we fail, I will not be gone forever. It is only London, not the wilds of Africa!”

  “I know.” Amelia pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. “Forgive me. I am unusually emotional at the moment.” She sucked in a breath. “You see…I’m expecting.”

  “Expecting what?” Catherine asked.

  “A child, you silly billy,” Julia exclaimed. The words seemed to sink in suddenly and Julia leapt to her feet. “Oh goodness, a child! Finally. I thought it was never going to happen!”

  Emma dashed over to Amelia and flung her arms around her sister. They all knew Amelia had been hoping to conceive for over a year. She suspected she was not alone in thinking it might not happen and if anyone was meant to be a mother, it was Amelia.

  Julia wrapped herself around the other side of Amelia, and Catherine squeezed her head in between the two of them. “A baby? Now I really can be the spinster aunt.”

  “It’s not always about you,” said Julia.

  “I know, I know.” Catherine grinned and slung her arms around Emma and Julia’s waist to give them a squeeze. “It’s so exciting. The first Chadwick baby.”

  “It’s not really a Chadwick,” Amelia reminded them. “If it’s a boy, he’ll be heir to the viscountcy.”

  “Pish. We all know it will be a Chadwick through and through.” Catherine squeezed out from between them and sat back down. “How can it not be when we will be helping to raise it?”

  Emma gave Amelia a quick kiss on the cheek and another squeeze. All her own problems of the countryside and whether Morgan would ever join her in the marriage bed seemed to fade. How could one worry about such trivial things when new life was going to be brought into the world?

  “Have you told Mama yet?” Emma asked as she sat back down.

  Amelia shook her head. “She’ll likely pass out from excitement. I have not quite figured out the best time to tell her.”

  Julia shrugged. “Well she survived us marrying titled men and Emma being utterly scandalized in London.”

  “She’ll have a fit if she knows she missed out on this announcement.” Catherine picked up another cake and prodded it with one finger.

  “Then we must not tell her you already know.” Amelia scowled. “Have you not had enough cakes today?”

  “Never.” Catherine stuffed the whole cake into her mouth and grinned around it.

  Amelia gave an exasperated sigh. “Your teeth shall rot.”

  “Save your mothering for your baby,” Catherine said through a mouthful of sponge and cream.

  “It’s a fine job you weren’t the one scandalized by an earl,” commented Julia. “You would make a terrible countess.”

  “I am not at all sure I’m fit to be one either.” Emma twined her fingers together. “I confess I am dreading returning to London and playing the role properly.”

  “You shall be fine,” Amelia assured her. “You have better manners than Julia and she does well as a duchess.”

  Julia lifted her chin. “I shall have you know I make an excellent duchess.”

  “Even when you argued with Lady Georgson at Almacks?” Amelia arched a brow.

  “That woman is a fright.” Julia pursed her lips. “She deserved every word of it. And if anyone speaks ill of Emma, I shall not hesitate to give them a dressing down too.”

  Emma chuckled. “Who would have thought Julia of all people would be a duchess? Now no one can argue with her. We should all be bowing and scraping before her.”

  “You should follow my lead, Emma. No one will dare say a word against you if you hold yourself right.” Julia poured a tea and lifted the pot. “Anyone else?”

  Amelia offered her cup. “You do think yourself high and mighty do you not?” She grinned.

  Julia lifted her shoulders and affected a snooty tone. “When one is a duchess, one must play a certain role. It is expected of one, naturally.” She crossed her eyes and made a face before she slumped back in the chair. “And it is bloody exhausting sometimes. I do not blame Emma for wanting to stay in Hampshire most of the time.”

  “I would even settle for Berkshire but Morgan will not even speak of the place. Goodness knows when we shall visit it.”

  “It is odd that he has no plans to take you there,” Amelia mused.

  “I shall have to ask Guy about it. He knows Morgan better than anyone,” suggested Julia.

  “So long as Morgan does not catch wind of it.” Emma nibbled on the end of a thumb. “He would not like my prying I suspect.”

  “A husband and wife should not have secrets,” Julia declared.

  “Since when are you the expert on marriage?” Catherine asked. “Amelia has been married longer than you. Besides, many of the marriages
within the ton are full of secrets. Everyone knows that.”

  “If everyone knows that, then how are they secrets?” Julia pointed out.

  Catherine narrowed her gaze. “You know what I mean.”

  “Julia is right,” Amelia conceded. “It would help your marriage if you had no secrets.”

  “You should find a way to talk about it with him,” Julia suggested. “Perhaps in the marriage bed,” she whispered with a glance at Catherine.

  “I can hear you,” their sister declared. “And I know all about it, like I keep telling you.”

  “I’m not sure much, um, talking would happen there.” Warmth filled Emma’s cheeks.

  Amelia pursed her lips. “Make a bet with him then. Play chess and if you beat him, he must tell you something about himself.”

  Emma shook her head. “You know I never mastered chess.”

  “Sing to him and refuse to stop until he tells you about Berkshire. He’ll give in soon enough.” Catherine chuckled and Amelia shot her a warning look but Emma dismissed her sister’s words. Catherine was right, her singing had been terrible.

  Julia grinned. “Or play the violin to him.”

  “Or paint a portrait of him,” Catherine added.

  “Julia. Catherine, enough,” Amelia hissed.

  “It’s well enough. They are right. I am terrible at all of those things,” Emma conceded.

  “You should try painting again,” Amelia proposed. “You have not done it for a few years now. Perhaps you will be better now.”

  Julia took a sip of tea. “Or maybe sketching. That might be easier.”

  “Embroidery again perhaps?” Catherine suggested.

  “I did not think the card tricks were so terrible. Perhaps with time…” Amelia lifted a hand.

  “Why must I do any of them?” Emma glanced around at her sisters who all shared a look.

  “Well.” Amelia stared at the cup of tea in her hand. “Normally you would have…well, started something new by now. It is just a little…strange for us. For you not to be doing anything new, you see?”

  “I suppose…” Emma nibbled briefly on her bottom lip. “I suppose I do not really fancy trying anything new.” In truth, she had given up. She would never find that one thing that she was passionate about, not like her sisters.

  “Do not forget, she has a new husband to try. That shall keep her occupied for a while.” Julia winked at her.

  “And a new niece or nephew soon enough!” Catherine reminded them all. “We will have quite the task ahead of us to ensure he or she becomes a proper Chadwick.”

  Amelia rubbed her flat stomach and sighed with a grin. “Sorry, little one. There’s nothing I can do. They’re my sisters and I’m afraid we are stuck with them.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Morgan jerked awake at the feel of something hard jabbing in his side. He groaned and opened his eyes, immediately aware of the stiffness pervading his body. Chaise lounges were not meant for sleeping on, that much he knew.

  “My wife assures me she gave you and Emma the best guest bedroom.”

  Morgan blinked up at Guy and sat with a groan.

  “Is there a reason you have opted to sleep in the drawing room instead of next to your charming wife?”

  Grimacing, Morgan stood and straightened his crumpled shirt. He’d told Emma he’d been sleeping in another room but not that he was in the drawing room. And he’d hoped to be awake before everyone else, so he could slip into their shared room and make himself presentable before anyone had discovered him stealing some sleep down here. For the past few days, his exhausting plan had worked. He’d slept downstairs and no one had been any the wiser.

  “I prefer the chaise.” Morgan pressed a hand to the back of his neck to try to work out one of the many, many knots in it.

  Guy lifted a brow. “You prefer a chaise to a comfy bed, wrapped in the arms of a woman?”

  Morgan eyed his friend. “Yes.”

  Shaking his head, Guy motioned upstairs. “And what does your wife have to say about this?”

  “Nothing at all.”

  Or at least, she had not said anything yet. He had joined her briefly last night, unable to resist the lure of all that satiny skin as he brushed a goodnight kiss across her lips. Afterwards, he had held her, fighting the desire to remain with her all night before retreating downstairs once she was asleep.

  “It’s not proper for us to share a room,” Morgan insisted.

  Guy released a surprised laugh. “Proper? Since when do you care for proper, Morgan? This is the man who was found with his hand up Miss Chadwick’s skirts in the middle of the street. I hardly think proper matters, and you know Julia would not care one whit.”

  “Perhaps I am trying to be a gentleman.”

  “A gentleman would stay with his wife all night once he had bedded her.”

  Morgan grunted. It was not the best way to start a marriage, of that he was aware, but nor was screaming and shouting in his wife’s ear during his nightmares.

  “You know Julia wants me to talk you into stay longer. Or even letting one of the local houses.”

  “Who knew there were so many houses to let in the area?” Morgan grumbled.

  “Bartholomew managed to find one, though why he wants to stay here, I don’t know. I would have thought a merchant man like himself needed to stay in London.”

  A shard of jealousy lodged itself in Morgan’s gut like a knife. “I know why he wants to be here.”

  Emma. It was all about Emma. God knows why, though. It was not like he could have her now she was married. For some reason, the man had decided to continue to pursue her, despite her wedded status. Maybe he thought he could have an affair with her, but there was no chance his beautiful, passionate Emma would go with a man like that.

  Would she?

  No. Never. She was too kind and honest for that. But he could not help listening to that nagging voice that was telling him what a terrible job of being a husband he was doing. Bedding her and leaving her. Keeping secrets. But how did one tell their new wife that one was plagued with nightmares so hideous that he woke up in a cold sweat? How did one explain that the mere thought of riding in carriages through the country sent a chill down his spine? A wife was meant to look up to her husband. Was meant to look to him for protection too. How could he keep any respect from her if he told her what was really going on?

  “What’s happening with you, Morgan?” Guy narrowed his gaze at him.

  Morgan laughed. “Well, I did get married unexpectedly. Is that not a reason enough for a man to be a little out of sorts?”

  “We’ve known each other a long time. I’ve never seen you like this. I know you loathe the country but come on, man, you must admit you are being odd about it all.”

  “I merely wish to return to London as soon as possible. The gossip will have died down before long.”

  “Now that’s wishful thinking.”

  Morgan sighed. He knew it was. To give Emma a fighting chance in London society, he needed to stay in Hampshire just a little longer. If he took her back to experience all the malicious gossip, she would flee London and never return to be at his side. The thought of living apart from her made his gut tighten. He needed her kisses, and her touch, and her brutal honesty.

  He frowned. He was beginning to need that woman a lot more than he realized. “I promised Emma I would stay a while. we had a deal.”

  “Yes, I heard about this. You are to give the countryside a fair chance.”

  “I said two weeks and I’m a man of my word, but you know as well as I do, nothing will change. I love London. I will not live anywhere else.”

  Guy gave a shrug. “You should be telling Emma this, not me. But, Morgan, you’re a married man now. Surely your interests will change? It was different when you were a bachelor. You could hop from bed to bed. I am not so sure London will hold the same appeal any longer.”

  “I like London. I want to live in London,” Morgan insisted.

  Guy we
nt to turn away then paused. “You will treat Emma well, will you not? Julia will have your head and mine if you do not.”

  “Do you doubt me?”

  Guy eyed him then shook his head. “No. I know you enjoyed your time as a bachelor but I know you’re not a fickle man. But, please, do not mess this up. Julia would be heartbroken if you hurt Emma and I do not wish to see any of them hurt.”

  Morgan pressed a hand to his heart. “I will look after her, I swear.” But he’d look after her in London. Nowhere else.

  “You had better hasten upstairs and make yourself presentable. The rest of the house is stirring.”

  “Why are you awake so early?” Morgan asked.

  “Julia couldn’t sleep and therefore neither could I. Of course she’s asleep now.” Guy gave a rueful smile. “Did Emma tell you Amelia’s news?”

  Morgan nodded. “You shall be next.”

  “It could be you.”

  Morgan blinked. It could be. After all if he had his way once they returned to London he’d been taking Emma to bed with great frequency. Of course, being an earl, he had always known he would have to sire an heir but he’d been putting that to the back of his mind for so long, he’d stupidly forgotten it could be a consequence of taking Emma to bed without precautions. Christ, he’d been so wrapped up in his need for her, he had not thought straight for days.

  “May the best man win, I suppose.” Morgan grinned.

  “I always do.” Guy jerked his head toward the door. “Now go see to your wife.”

  Morgan hurried up to the guest bedroom to find Emma still asleep. Curled up on one side, her hair had come lose from the braid she habitually did before bed, sending little curls over the white pillow. Her lips were parted and her breaths slow and heavy. Copper lashes splayed against freckled cheeks. There was an innocence to her that made his heart swell.