Charles scowled at them. ‘The lady in question is free to do as she pleases. Just as I am.’
‘Ah, a man who doesn’t insist on sole proprietorship.’ Lady Johnstone’s voice cut. ‘I imagine that if you had marriage on your plate your tune would be different.’
‘Good morning.’ Charles twisted on the heel of his Hessian and beat a retreat. He knew when he was outgunned and outmanoeuvred.
Twenty minutes later, he found the couple under discussion sitting on a bench very close to where he had kissed Emma Stockton the night before. He told himself the urge to plant Helmsley a facer was merely the normal reaction of a man who had sampled the delights of a woman. It was not the reaction of a man who wanted that woman exclusively. He could not recall ever wanting a woman to the exclusion of everything else. And he didn’t want Emma Stockton that way now.
‘Am I interrupting?’ He stepped in front of them and just kept himself from stepping between them.
Flushed from something Helmsley had said, she turned to Charles and her face paled. ‘Mr Hawthorne.’
Helmsley also looked at Charles. ‘Morning, Mr Hawthorne.’
Charles forced a thin smile to his lips. They had not invited him but he wasn’t going away. ‘May I join or is this an exclusive discussion?’
‘Nothing of the sort,’ Emma said quickly. ‘We were trading stories about life in the country.’
Charles kept the smile on his face. ‘Such as?’
Helmsley’s eyes crinkled in amusement. ‘Fishing for trout and falling in. Mishaps like that.’
An immediate picture of Emma Stockton rising from a stream, her gown clinging to her body and her nipples hard from the chill brought a rush of blood to Charles’s loins. He swallowed. It took an effort to drawl, ‘How interesting.’
As though sensing he wasn’t enamoured of the conversation, Emma said, ‘It is time I returned to the house. Amy should be up by now.’ She stepped away from the men.
Helmsley immediately offered his arm and Charles checked himself with his hand in the air as though he brushed a speck from the opposite sleeve of his coat.
‘Allow me,’ Helmsley said, his brown eyes filled with warmth.
Emma blushed at Mr Helmsley’s blatant admiration, made worse by having Charles Hawthorne see it. The man had kissed her very thoroughly last night and now he watched Helmsley pay marked attention to her without a glimmer of concern or interest. Obviously, she had been right in deciding Charles Hawthorne didn’t care about her, he just wanted the seemingly unattainable. If he ever learned what she truly felt for him, he would run in the opposite direction. Thankfully she hadn’t embarrassed herself by pursuing him as she had considered earlier.
She matched her steps to Mr Helmsley and put her fingers on his arm. ‘Thank you, but you don’t have to escort me if you prefer to stay here.’
He laid his free hand briefly over hers before dropping it to his side. ‘With you gone this is just another garden.’
‘What an interesting concept.’ Charles drawled as he took up position on the side of Emma that Mr Helmsley didn’t occupy.
She glanced surreptitiously at him. He looked cool, casual and bored. His fine white shirt was open at the neck and he wore a bandana knotted around his throat in the fashion sported by gentlemen of the ring. His blue jacket fit loosely.
Mr Helmsley’s smile faded. ‘Ah, Mr Hawthorne. I thought you planned to hunt about this time.’
The look on Charles’s face would have made many men pause. ‘I changed my mind.’
Emma looked from one to the other, wondering what was going on. Charles Hawthorne normally had more charm than this.
In an effort to ease the tension that suddenly seemed to fill the warm summer air, she said, ‘I am looking forward to…’ Her voice trailed off. Bertram strode toward them, still dressed for riding. ‘Oh, dear,’ she finished faintly.
He stopped in front of them, forcing them to halt. ‘I see you are still keeping questionable company.’ If looks could slay, his would have eviscerated Charles Hawthorne.
She bristled at his implied criticism of Charles. ‘The same could be said of you.’
Bertram’s pale face mottled. ‘I am a man. I can do as I please.’
She sighed. ‘So you are. What brings you here? I thought you were enjoying London.’
Bertram yawned. ‘The city is so fatiguing after a while.’
‘Rusticating.’ Charles’s insult cut across Bertram’s excuse.
Mr Helmsley cleared his throat. Emma, who had momentarily forgotten him, even with her hand on his arm, wanted to sink into the ground after what had just been revealed. Instead, she held her head up. None of this was her fault. She would not take responsibility anymore.
‘Does Lady Johnstone know you’re here?’ she asked, foreseeing still another embarrassment.
For the first time in many months Bertram looked sheepish. ‘I sent a note.’
‘When?’ Emma told herself again that Bertram and his behaviour were not her responsibility.
‘Yesterday.’ He looked away. ‘I thought that since you and Amy had been invited, I was sure to be welcome also. I am here in my capacity as your brother and chaperone. I am sure Lady Johnstone will understand.’
Emma wanted to scold him so badly her hands shook. Instead she said, ‘I see. Well, you had best speak with Lady Johnstone. She might not have room.’
‘In which case you and Amy must leave with me.’
Emma stared at him and knew this was one time he was not going to tell her what to do. She had no intention of leaving this house party now. No matter what Bertram said or did.
‘We most certainly will not.’ She stepped forward, determined to go around him.
He stood his ground. ‘Then you had best speak to Lady Johnstone about a room for me.’
‘You are a man, Bertram, and intent on doing as you please. It is your responsibility to speak to the lady.’
Bertram looked as though she had slapped him. ‘Well, Em, I had thought you would do that.’
She shook her head, thinking it felt good not to burden herself with Bertram’s troublemaking and wondering why she had never exerted herself before. ‘I am sure she would prefer to hear from you. She is likely—’
‘She is in the breakfast room,’ Charles said, a hint of relish in his voice.
Bertram’s mouth opened, making him look like a fish out of water. ‘But…’
‘But nothing,’ Charles said. ‘I’m sure Lady Johnstone will be surprised to see you.’
Helmsley, who had listened and watched, said quietly, ‘I am sure she will find room for you, Mr Stockton. This is a large estate.’
Bertram gave him a grateful look before turning a less than friendly one on his sister. ‘I see I will have to fend for myself. Mama would have made all the arrangements.’
Emma blanched. Bertram was absolutely correct. Mama would have made sure there was a room for Bertram and that his bags were taken care of. Mama would never have made Bertram fend for himself. She opened her mouth to say she would take care of everything, but Charles Hawthorne took her arm in a firm grip and pulled her around her brother. Her fingers fell from Mr Helmsley’s arm.
‘Tell Lady Johnstone it would oblige me to have you stay. Now, good day, Bertram.’ Charles didn’t look at her brother, just tugged her away.
Mr Helmsley stood for several seconds as though he didn’t know what to do. Then he followed them.
Charles gave Helmsley a glower that said clearer than words the man was de trop. Helmsley looked at Emma. She gave him a weak smile and shook her head. He fell back.
Emma allowed Charles to pull her away from the other men. When they were out of hearing, she turned on him. ‘What do you think you are doing? This is twice you have meddled in my family’s affairs—and that is being conservative. I’m not counting your outrageous behaviour with Amy in London or your duel with Bertram.’
The entire time she berated him, he pulled her toward a secluded arbor. The heavy scent of dama
sk roses surrounded them.
‘I am standing up for you since you won’t do it for yourself.’ He scowled. ‘I am also making sure Bertram is allowed to stay rather than have him run back to London and continue his disreputable ways.’
She pulled her arm from his grasp. ‘I don’t need your interference.’
‘It isn’t interference.’ He looked irritated enough to spit nails. ‘You allow Bertram to treat you like a servant and Amy to behave as though her actions are of no consequence. Then you shoulder the burden of cleaning up after them.’
She glared at him. ‘And you are better than they are?’
‘I don’t make you bear the brunt of my actions.’
‘You don’t?’ Anger simmered in her stomach. ‘What do you call my having to follow behind you and Amy every second to make sure you don’t cross the line of respectability with her?’
‘I call it poor judgement on your part.’
‘What!’ Indignation made her sputter.
‘Yes. You should have known I would never go to the point where I would have to propose marriage.’
She thought steam must be coming out of the top of her head, she was so mad. ‘I should have known that? You are a debauched rake who has led your life the way you wanted with no regard for the consequences you’ve caused others. And now you are criticising my family.’ She paused to take a breath. ‘How dare you.’
‘I dare because I know how hard Bertram’s gambling is on you and on Amy. I care because Amy is rebelling at her fate and who knows where that will lead her.’
‘What do you care? We are none of your concern.’
A look of unease flitted across his face. He looked away from her for a moment before saying, ‘Because I have made my family miserable in the past.’
‘I can certainly believe that.’ She knew the words were cruel, but at this moment she didn’t care. He had provoked her beyond belief.
He ran his fingers through his hair and looked as though he was swallowing a bitter potion. ‘Please sit down, Emma.’
She glanced at the stone bench near them. ‘I am Miss Stockton to you, Mr Hawthorne, no matter what happened last night. And, no, I won’t sit.’
‘You are one of the most stubborn women I know.’ He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up. ‘You were Emma last night. Have things changed that greatly?’
She turned her head away so he no longer touched her. ‘Last night was an aberration. It won’t happen again.’
‘Are you sure?’ His voice was low and sexy and deeply disturbing.
She wanted to tell him she was positive, but she couldn’t. The heat from his body scorched her, and the intensity of his study made her feel weak in the knees. And she had thought earlier how exciting it would be to have him make love to her—completely. Just once.
She pushed the disturbing thought away and stiffened her back. She had to stay furious with him or she might beg him to kiss her again. ‘You are meddling where you don’t belong.’
He made a visible effort to appear reasonable. ‘Can we try this again, Miss Stockton? I am trying to help you even though it is obvious you don’t want my help. But someone needs to stop you from allowing your siblings to run over you.’
‘That someone doesn’t need to be you.’
‘Then who?’ He spread his hands as though to encompass the world.
She knew the answer. No one. ‘Not you. I must do this on my own.’
‘Then do so.’ He dropped his hands to his sides. ‘It bothers me to see what is happening to you because of the way George treated you. And because I know how hard my misbehaviour was on George.’
Puzzled, she waited silently.
Frustration drew his brows together. ‘You do remember your short engagement to my brother that you graciously broke so he could marry Rose?’
‘Yes. It was the beginning of my latest round of problems.’
‘Yes. No one to pay the gambling debts incurred by the men in your family. And now Amy is the sacrificial lamb and she’s rebelling.’
Emma nodded. There was nothing to say. He was saying it all.
‘The best thing you can do for them and yourself is to step away from their lives.’
He was telling her exactly what she had already decided for herself. How did he know all this? But she said nothing.
‘I know.’ He paused and there was audible strain in his voice. ‘I… This is hard to talk about, although it is no secret.’
Tension formed lines around his mouth, yet took nothing away from the sensual curves of his lips. She wondered that even under these circumstances she still found herself attracted to him in ways that scared her sensible self.
He continued. ‘I was in debtors’ prison for several weeks.’
She kept herself from saying she already knew. He needed to tell her himself. ‘You?’
He nodded. ‘I was like Bertram. An insatiable gambler. Among other vices.’
Rumour said he was insatiable in everything. She didn’t comment on that even though heat exploded in her stomach at the thought. ‘Why didn’t your brother bail you out? He is wealthy beyond most of his peers. It wouldn’t have been a hardship for him.’
‘No, but he had already done so—five, ten times.’ Red stained his angled cheeks. ‘I was beyond caring so long as I could gamble, thinking each time would be the one where I won a fortune.’ He grimaced. ‘I understand Bertram very well. I also understand Amy because I have rebelled against every restriction put on me. That was another reason I followed ruin with more ruin.’
‘And now you are reformed?’ Her tone implied she didn’t believe it.
He smiled ruefully. ‘Not totally. But the time in jail turned my life around. If George had bailed be out again, I doubt I would be here now. He had to let me experience the miserable results of my behaviour.’ He looked her in the eye and took hold of both her arms so she stood in front of him. It seemed as though he meant to use the physical contact to strengthen the impact of his words. ‘I would have never had the desperate incentive to change my ways otherwise.’
‘You are the strangest man. Why do you think this confession makes any difference to me?’ Even as she said the words, she knew she lied. He trusted her with this information which showed a very private and personal part of him. A very vulnerable part.
‘Because you allow your brother and sister to continue in their behaviour. You spend all your energy to save them. Let them fall once. The chance is that they won’t do it again.’
She sighed. If only he was right, but she didn’t think he was. And the fact that she had already decided to do as he suggested for purely selfish reasons was something she didn’t want to admit to him. No matter how she told herself he was despicable or disreputable, she was still attracted to him and found she didn’t want to look bad in his eyes.
‘I must go,’ she muttered, twisting her arms to free them. To her surprise he released her.
She whipped around him and sped to the house. With luck she would also miss Bertram and Mr Helmsley. Right now, she didn’t feel like socialising. She felt emotionally depleted and confused and totally unlike herself.
Charles Hawthorne did that to her.
Emma entered the house in time to see Bertram paying his respects to Lady Johnstone. He bowed elegantly over the older woman’s hand and murmured something that brought a smile to her lips.
It seemed Bertram could charm when he needed to, Emma thought sourly before reprimanding herself. He was her brother and no matter what he did or how he treated her, she still loved him. She needed to remember that because the next couple of days promised to be difficult.
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, then angled away from the tableau. Her bedchamber seemed the best refuge at the moment.
Chapter Seventeen
Emma smiled as she listened to Mr Helmsley blend his baritone with Amy’s light soprano. Half of the house party was in here after dinner, listening to several members play the piano and harp
while others accompanied them. The other half was playing cards. Bertram and Charles Hawthorne were not here.
Much as she enjoyed the music, she worried about what was happening in the other room. Bertram was supposed to be recouping after losing too much at the gambling tables. But she knew her brother.
With a smile to the others participating in the music, and noticing Amy looking happy when William Chevalier added his tenor, Emma stood. Much as she had told herself in the last couple of days that Bertram was not her responsibility, habit died hard. Not even Charles Hawthorne’s pointed interference was doing much good.
She sighed as she went to the door. The card games were across the hall.
Wall sconces, each filled with half a dozen candles, lit the entire ground floor. It was past midnight and even the summer sun was long since down. She paused in the entrance to see where Bertram was.
Surprise jolted her when she found him. Charles Hawthorne’s hand held Bertram’s shoulder, and from the look on both their faces neither was happy. Bertram looked harassed. Charles looked furious.
Something had happened.
She had to reach them before they challenged each other again. She sped across the room, dodging furniture and a few invitations to join a group.
She was too slow.
Bertram rose, looking as though he wanted to lash out at Charles. Charles’s mouth was a thin line, his jaw motionless as though he held back scathing words. The two moved to a set of open French doors.
Emma passed the table her brother had just left. Faro. She swallowed a groan even as she noticed several men giving her sympathetic looks. Pride lifted her chin even as she gave them a cool smile. Bertram must be losing.
She reached the doors and heard the two men’s voices raised in anger. She stopped. She should go outside immediately and stop them before they did anything more than shout at each other. Heaven only knew she didn’t want another duel. Charles still wasn’t completely healed.
She glanced around. Several people watched her, but looked away when she saw them. No one was close enough to hear what was being said outside—except her. She stepped forward, only to stop when she heard Bertram.
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