by Lynn Collum
But manners won out over distaste. “As you can see, sir, there was no need for such worry. My dear Uncle Nate’s health was such in later years that I handled much of the day-to-day workings of the plantation. I am quite used to managing my own affairs.”
Joshua Collins didn’t like what he saw in his niece. This was not the same shy and frightened child of long ago. She had grown into one of those females who believed that balderdash the Wollstonecraft creature had written about. Women being able to handle their own affairs—ha!
He would have to warn Roland to go slowly or all their plans would be for naught. But at present he must cozen this foolish child into believing he agreed with her.
“Well, my dear, we are duly impressed.” The squire gave a broad grin, exposing yellowed teeth. “But now you are home, and Roland and I are fully prepared to advise you on all matters. There is nothing like a gentleman’s experience when making decisions.”
“I assure you, Uncle, there is no need.” Emily’s expression was unyielding.
Mr. Collins was at a standstill. How was he to control this stubborn miss? As his silence lengthened, his wife inadvertently aided him when she took note of the lull in conversation. Oblivious to much of the byplay between uncle and niece, she put down the sticky bun she was enjoying to timidly inquire, “My dear, I am puzzled as to why you have lingered here in Somerset when your uncle has been eagerly awaiting you in Coventry.”
“Was he?” Emily asked, doubtfully. “That seems surprising, since no one was eager for my presence so many years ago.”
With the cunning of most connivers, the squire realized what troubled his niece. The chit was still piqued about that business when only Ashton had been willing to take an orphan. Convinced he could turn her around, he stepped to her, taking her hand. In his best imitation of familial concern, he said, “Child, if my finances had been better at the time your father died, I would have welcomed you to Twin Oaks, but I was nearly in Dun Territory. Besides, that was all long ago and best forgotten. You are back with us at last, and we are most eager to hear about your life in the Indies.”
Oliver watched the play of emotion on Emily’s lovely face. Clearly there was some unhappy history between the pair, but he thought Emily needed some time to cope with meeting her family again after so many years. She seemed at a loss for words.
The earl decided to explain Emily’s extended stay at the castle. “Miss Collins has been helping my wards, whom she and Mrs. Keaton so kindly brought from Calcutta, to become established in their new home.”
The squire’s small black eyes narrowed as he looked at the earl; then he turned back to Emily. “As I remember, you always did have a kind heart, my dear. And have the children been settled to your satisfaction?”
Emily straightened defiantly. “Why, no, Uncle. Lord Hawksworth and I still must interview applicants for a governess.” Then she looked at Oliver, and her face softened to a smile.
“Very well, my dear.” Mr. Collins glared at the earl truculently. “But we have no intention of leaving Somerset without you.”
Oliver knew what was expected and manners demanded. “Then you and your family must stay at Hawk’s Lair until Miss Collins is ready to leave.” He knew it would not do to inform them that he hoped she would never depart while still Miss Collins, but until he secured her hand he would hold his peace.
Mr. Collins smiled with satisfaction. He had his foot in the door of Emily’s life. Roland would have to get to work on charming his cousin at once, for there was something in the way his niece looked at the earl that didn’t bode well for the squire’s family fortunes.
Hawksworth rang for the butler, and rooms were quickly prepared for the Collinses. The earl informed them that dinner would be served at eight; then Emily and her family left for their rooms. To his surprise, Miss Bettina Collins lingered in her seat, then came to stand beside him after her family had departed the room.
In a whispered undertone, she pleaded, “My lord, are you truly my cousin’s friend?”
Surprised, Oliver looked at the strange girl. “I hope to be more than just a friend one day, Miss Bettina.” The young lady seemed to relax a bit, then pushed a small folded note into his hand. Without another word, she hurried from the library to join her family. Curious, Oliver opened the small missive. I must speak with you at once. Send a servant for me in exactly twenty minutes.
What melodramatic nonsense was this? Oliver wondered. But he was certain that it concerned Emily, and therefore he would play Miss Bettina’s little game.
The meeting of Miss Bettina Collins and Lord Hawksworth took place some twenty minutes later in the Long Gallery. Oliver knew that should they be discovered by anyone, he might use the pretext of showing the young miss the family portraits to excuse the impropriety of such a meeting.
He observed her closely as she followed Bedows down the narrow room towards him. She had changed into an ecru muslin evening gown with heavy use of Brussels lace and green ribbon at the bodice and sleeves. The garment, with three rows of ruffles at the hem, did little to flatter her full figure. He knew little of feminine apparel, but was certain that the lady would have appeared better in a simply cut dress.
Her plain face was a picture of concern as she drew to a halt, then waited for the servant to depart before breathlessly saying, “We must hurry or my father will know I have spoken to you, my lord.”
Oliver arched one brow. “What do you wish to tell me, Miss Bettina?”
She threw a nervous glance over her shoulder to make certain they were unobserved. “My father and brother mean my cousin no good, my lord.”
“Are you saying they intend her harm?” The earl’s hands drew into fists at the thought.
“Nothing like that, sir. My father would never risk his neck in such a way, and Roland gets quite ill at the least sight of blood. No, their intention is to take her back to Twin Oaks and browbeat her into marrying Roland.”
“Browbeat! Miss Collins?” Oliver threw back his head and laughed heartily.
“ Tis no laughing matter, my lord. You do not know my father. He may not be a murderer, but one very often wishes to be dead when he is giving one a devilish bad time.”
Oliver stifled his laughter, not wishing to belittle the girl’s worries. “Child, I don’t mean to take what you say lightly, but if there is anyone less likely to be browbeaten than your cousin, I am sure I do not know them. She is a lady who very much knows her own mind. Let me assure you that Miss Collins is a very sensible and capable female.”
But Bettina was not easily swayed by the earl’s assurances. “ ’Tis plain that you admire her, sir. Yet I know my father well. He is determined to make certain that the fortune Nathaniel Ashton left his niece will not get away from him.”
“Fortune?” Oliver’s dark brows drew together. “Are you telling me Miss Emily Collins is an heiress?”
Bettina’s green eyes grew wide. “You did not know, sir, and yet you wished to marry her? It must be love, indeed. Yes, there is a fortune. My father estimates that Emily has inherited close to a hundred thousand pounds from her uncle.”
Suddenly what the young lady had been telling him took on new meaning. With such a fortune at stake, Bettina might be underestimating the drastic measures her father might employ to get his hands on such a prize.
He eyed the young lady curiously. “Why have you chosen to tell me and not your cousin?”
“I had intended to tell Emily, but it was clear to me from the outset that she views us as complete strangers. I cannot blame her, for she was shipped off to the Indies all those years ago because she was penniless, no matter what Papa may now say. Besides, I was certain a man could thwart my father’s plans much better than a lone female.”
Oliver again grew silent. He was curious why a young woman who might benefit from such a plan would be the very one to expose her father’s plot. “Why are you helping your cousin? You know her as little as she knows you.”
The young lady looked down
at her gloved hands. When she looked back at the earl, there was such bitterness in her green eyes that he was startled. “My father and brother care for nothing but money. Over a year ago my brother learned that I had formed an attachment with our curate and he with me. Roland informed my father. They went to the baron who owned the living and saw to it that the kindest man I ever knew lost his position. Without my knowledge, he was told he would never be allowed to marry me and was ordered from the shire. I have not seen him since.” She gave a deep sigh as her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “I do not want them to ruin Emily’s life the way they did mine.”
Miss Bettina’s motives were clear in her mind, but the earl suspected there was a bit of revenge against her family mixed with her desire to help Emily. Still, without a second thought, he asked, “What was this curate’s name?”
“Mr. Darnell Logan.” She spoke the name with reverence.
The earl’s primary concern was for Emily at the moment, but after the service this plain young lady had rendered him, he was determined to see if he could find her curate for her. He leaned over and gave the girl a kiss on the cheek. “You have done your cousin a great service by telling me all this, Miss Bettina. I shall be certain to tell her about it some day after she is my bride. Do not give up hope of your curate. Now hurry along to the Blue Drawing Room and I shall see you there later.”
Oliver watched as the girl hurried back up the Long Gallery. He knew he mustn’t delay. Joshua Collins had dubious intentions which threatened the welfare of the woman he loved, and Oliver fully intended to stop him. He would propose to Emily this very night and secure his position to protect her. With that he strode purposefully towards the Blue Drawing Room.
But the earl had not reckoned with the tenacity of Mr. Collins and his son. The two gentlemen had positioned themselves on either side of Emily as she waited for the others to arrive. It was as if they’d formed a guard around their young relative to prevent her from having private conversation with any save themselves. To all observers, the gentlemen appeared rapt and interested in all Emily had to say of her fifteen years in the Indies, but for Oliver their every move appeared calculated to keep him from her.
It wasn’t until after dinner, when the countess announced that she wished to speak with Oliver in the library about the children, that everyone began to say their good nights and the earl got his chance. He was at last able to secure Emily’s hand in a private moment, only to be frustrated by his grandmother’s summons. He knew that he would be unable to speak with Emily that evening. So in a soft tone for her ears only, he asked, “Might I have a word with you in the library at nine on the morrow?”
The lady smiled and nodded her head before her hovering relations drew her upstairs with them. Oliver bade Sir Ethan good night, apologizing for such an early evening, but the gentleman was understanding, saying he could use a good night’s rest before he strode off up the stairs.
The earl’s gaze followed Emily until she disappeared from sight. A part of him wanted to go to her private parlor and lay his heart at her feet, but his grandmother’s words echoed in his head—that there must be no hint of impropriety to mar his proposal of marriage since his reputation was already so tainted. He would wait until the morrow.
When the sounds of his guests’ footsteps had faded, he joined his grandmother in the library. Closing the door, he turned and inquired, “Is there a problem with the children, madam?”
“How soon before you are able to hire a governess?” the old lady asked impatiently from her seat before the fire.
The earl moved to stand at the mantel. “I have been expecting the agency to send applicants any day. Is there suddenly some hurry?”
“ ’Tis these dreadful people, the Collinses.” Seeing the look on her grandson’s face, she knew at once the direction his thoughts had taken. With a shake of her head, she added, “Oh, I don’t mean Miss Emily Collins, for she is an admirable enough young female. But until you hire a governess, she is quite determined to stay and assist you. That means her disreputable relations intend to remain fawning on the chit as if she were Princess Charlotte.”
Oliver knew there was no time like the present to break the news to his grandmother. “Madam, I know of all your plans for me, but I have some of my own. I have decided to ask Miss Collins to marry me.”
The old lady’s eyes grew round with distress. “Marry some ... young woman who has little to offer? I like the gel, but she cannot be the new countess. Why, it would be the height of foolishness, Oliver, when there are any number of titled young females in Town who would willingly become your bride and enhance your fortune at the same time.”
“Titles and fortunes are of no consequence to me, Grandmother. I love Emily.”
“Love! Marriage is no time to be thinking about such maudlin nonsense. Love is for silly schoolgirls and poets. The rest of us do our duty to our names and our families by marrying for advantage.”
The earl had known how it would be when he tried to make the dowager understand his feelings for Emily. He’d had the lecture on what constituted a proper bride too many times over the years. Still, he’d hoped to convince his grandparent that none of the things which were so important to Society mattered to him. But it was clear that the countess would not be swayed by sentimentality or romance. So he took the simplest route to convince her that Emily would be a proper bride.
“Clearly the reason for Miss Collins’s relations sudden appearance has not occurred to you. She has returned from the Indies an heiress.”
“How do you know she is an heiress? It might be all a hum to entice you to marry her.”
“Emily has not spoken of the matter. ’Twas Miss Bettina Collins who informed me that it was the reason her father has come to whisk Emily away from here. He intends to marry her to that coxcomb, Roland.”
A thoughtful expression settled on the countess’s lined face. Emily Collins was not at all the kind of woman she would have expected an Earl of Hawksworth to marry. She herself had been a reigning beauty with a vast fortune, as had Oliver’s mother. How was it that Oliver had settled on such a modest-looking female? Clearly the lady’s fortune had little to do with his choice, since he’d only just learned of it.
She watched her grandson’s resolute expression. He had made his choice. Nora held little hope that she could change his mind. She considered the matter carefully. While Miss Collins didn’t have a title or ancient lineage, she appeared to have a fortune, which made her acceptable in the strictest sense. Then the memory of the lady’s fierce defense of young Jamie came to mind. The countess knew the young lady had something more than most young ladies—she had heart, and that would be best for the future of Jamie, Honoria and Wesley.
“So, this Uncle Nathaniel she speaks of was a nabob. Well, well, that changes things, dear boy.” Seeing an angry glint leap into the earl’s eyes, the dowager chuckled. “Don’t take that attitude with me, my boy. I was only doing what has been done throughout the ages, and that is to see to the best interest of the family with an alliance. For myself, I shall like having Miss Collins as a granddaughter-in-law, and if a fortune comes with her I am well satisfied.”
With that Oliver knew he would have to be content. He informed the countess of his intention to propose the following morning. The lady, once she’d accepted the inevitable, began to discuss the advantages to the wedding taking place at the castle chapel versus at St George’s in London.
While the pair in the library continued to argue over the details, a figure stealthily crept away from the door. Roland Collins had stolen back down the stairs after most had retired for the night, fully intending to glean a few simple trinkets to lighten the burden of his debt. After all, the earl had so much and he so little due to his clutch-fisted father. But the sounds of voices had lured him to the library door, and his eavesdropping had paid off better than a few paltry snuffboxes might. He hurried up the stairs to tell his father that drastic action would have to be taken or Emily’s fortune wou
ld be lost to them forever. He would also make certain his father punished Bettina for her loose tongue.
Eleven
Emily rose early the following morning unable to repress the excitement she was feeling. Those final two minutes in the Blue Drawing Room with the earl holding her hand had made up for the entire evening of boredom fending off the Collinses. She was looking forward to being with the earl without her dreadful relatives hovering about. She wondered what he wished to speak to her about, then assumed he had heard from the agency regarding a governess for the children.
Dressed in a simple pink morning gown trimmed with rose-colored ribbons, she entered her small sitting room, but to her surprise, she found Delia was there before her. Her companion paced the Oriental rug before the fire, halting at the sight of her employer.
“Oh, Emily, I feel I must do something to make up for my dreadful mistake.”
“Mistake? You mean writing to Uncle Joshua?”
Delia nodded. “I am not certain which one, your uncle or your cousin, I find the more detestable with all their toadeating and feigned interest in your experiences after practically throwing you out into the world. Had I any idea they would prove such pushing people, I would never have informed them of our location. Even Sir Ethan says that Roland appears a dirty dish if ever he saw one and your uncle not much better. You would have every right to dismiss me—send me away for what I have done to you.”
Emily took her companion’s fidgeting hands between her own. “What’s done is done, my dear. You needn’t worry about me. I fully intend to inform my uncle that he and his family’s presence are not needed at Hawk’s Lair and that furthermore I shall not be returning to Twin Oaks with the Collinses.”