“I simply do not know,” she said, her heart thumping. “We were madly in love, as I said. Everything seemed to be going well.” She hesitated. “He could not declare for me openly at that point because of an inheritance issue – he did not have the means to support a wife – but he promised me faithfully that one day he would. He wanted me to be strong and wait for him.”
Olivia was silent, merely holding her hand.
“At least, that is what he told me,” she continued, her voice catching in her throat. “But it was all obviously a lie … as were his supposed feelings for me.” A single tear trailed down her cheek. “He never loved me the way that I loved him. It was obviously just about having an affair while he was in the district and moving on quickly.”
“The cad,” said Olivia, her face darkening. “How did he leave you? What did he say?”
Emmeline’s face twisted. “That is just the thing. He never said anything. One day he was here, and the next he was gone.” She paused. “I was away for two days to attend Aunt Lydia’s birthday in Chichester, and when I returned, he had left the district. He did not even have the courage to write me a letter of farewell.”
“Oh, Emme,” sighed Olivia, blinking back tears. “That is so detestable I do not know what to say at all.” She paused. “No wonder you have been so reclusive. I noticed the change in you as soon as I was back from London. Your heart was broken.”
Emmeline nodded. “Yes, it was broken, and it has never mended.” Her eyes shone with tears. “I have tried, Liv. I have tried so hard to put it behind me. To be the dutiful daughter that they want and find a husband … but it never works. For me, it is as if time stopped, all those years ago.”
Olivia shook her head. “This explains everything,” she whispered. “I have been so worried about you. We all have, but we have never known why you so stubbornly insist on staying home and avoiding social occasions.”
Emmeline smiled sadly. “Well, now you do.” She gazed at her sister steadily. “I never wanted to tell you or anyone. I was just so ashamed of myself for falling for a rake. I was so very angry at myself for being so stupid, and at him for duping me.” She paused. “I could not bear to see that shame reflected in your eyes.”
“Oh, dearest,” whispered Olivia, stroking her hand. “I am not ashamed of you in the slightest! You gave your heart, and it was not your fault the gentleman did not deserve it.” She hesitated. “I am just so sorry that I could not support you the way you needed. You should have told me, Emme. I could have helped you.”
Emmeline suppressed a sob as she reached for her sister. They hugged fiercely. Relief swept over her as she clung to Olivia. She had told her sister everything, and she had not renounced her as a scarlet woman. She was not ashamed of her. Olivia had been as understanding as she always was.
“I am sorry,” she whispered into her sister’s hair. “I am sorry that I never told you.”
Olivia pulled away, gazing at her with soft eyes. “There is no need to be sorry, dearest. None at all.” She took a deep breath. “We just need to figure out how we deal with the fact he is back in this district and how to protect you from him.”
“Protect me?” Emmeline squeaked. “There is no need to protect me, Liv. You saw how he reacted to me this evening. It was as cold as ice. He has no more desire to speak with me than I do with him. I have nothing to fear in that way.”
Olivia nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps … but we should be on our guard nonetheless. I do not wish for you to be hurt again, Emme.” She frowned. “I wonder what his story is and why he has suddenly popped up in the district after all this time? Come to think of it … I have not seen his cousin Lord Ralph in the last few years either.”
Emmeline shrugged. She had never met Lord Ralph, Benedict’s cousin. He had been in India when they had their affair, working in the family business.
“I think he has been living in India,” she said slowly. “At least he was when I knew Benedict.”
“That would explain it then,” said Olivia. “So … they are both back. What is Lord Ralph’s ancestral home called again?”
“Derby Hall,” replied Emmeline, picturing the grand house in her mind. “I only went there once, during our time together. I met his uncle, who was infirm and wheelchair-bound but still as sharp as a tack.” She smiled sadly.
Olivia sighed. “It is unfortunate he is returned to the district, Emme, but we cannot change it,” she said firmly. “We shall be dignified and ignore him entirely if we have the misfortune of encountering him again! I know you are strong enough to do it. In fact, it might be a good thing. Perhaps it will heal your heart once and for all.”
Emmeline’s throat felt so thick with tears she could barely swallow. Olivia meant well; she really did. But it was not so simple as that.
She had tried to heal her heart so many times she had lost count. Nothing ever worked. She knew she was doomed to love Lord Benedict Montagu to her dying day. It was the hairshirt she must wear for falling for him.
But she despised him as much as she loved him. He had played her for a fool, and she could never forgive him for it. She could never forgive herself either; for being such a naïve, trusting ingenue, letting herself be swept away with a few words of love and the sweetness of his kiss.
She took a deep breath. Well, at least that trusting girl was long gone now. She had become a reclusive woman but better that than the alternative. She did not know if she would survive another laceration to her heart. It was already so battered beyond endurance that it was a wonder it was still beating at all.
Chapter 7
Benedict straightened his cravat as he stared at his reflection in the full-length mirror. The manservant had just left after assisting him to dress. He was still amazed by these little luxuries; he had endured so much in India that his old life seemed a dream. The thought of someone assisting him to dress was beyond him. Had it ever been real?
He sighed heavily, still gazing at himself. His old life was real; it had always been here waiting for him to pick up again. As if India had never occurred at all.
He was slowly getting used to it again. But there were still moments of utter confusion, a certain disassociation of mind where he didn’t know what was real and what was not. It would happen at random times. Only a month ago, he had been in a carriage, and quite suddenly, it was as if the world had entirely dissolved. He was back once more in the jungle with the steaming heat rising; he heard the cackle of hyenas, the chatter of monkeys, so real that he had broken out in a sweat of fear.
His eyes clouded, remembering it. It had passed quickly, but the threat of it always hovered at the edge of his mind. He never knew when it might happen again.
The door opened. Brady, his uncle’s butler who had been at Derby Hall forever, stared at him impassively.
“My Lord,” he said in his familiar gravelly voice. “Lord Ralph is waiting for you in the foyer. He asks how long you will be.”
Benedict sighed. “Tell him I will be there directly, Brady.”
The butler nodded and left. Benedict turned back to the mirror. Damn Ralph. Somehow his cousin had persuaded him to attend yet another social event. This time it was an outdoor party wandering the woods to pick berries, of all things, before a picnic lunch by a lake.
He suppressed a shiver of irritation. It all seemed so pointless – he could not quite believe that this was how people passed the time. The fact that he had once done so willingly before India was beyond him. He had argued with Ralph that he would rather spend his time at Derby Hall and just attend business when he had to, but his cousin looked so disappointed that he quickly changed his mind.
He frowned. Obviously, Ralph needed a distraction, and he was still trying to mend their friendship, to show his cousin that he forgave him and was still here for him. If that meant attending balls or picnics, what did it really matter?
But he knew why it did matter. The more he socialised in this district, the stronger the chance he would run into Emmeline ag
ain.
And that was problematic.
He picked up his hat lying on the bed. He was still recovering from the shock of seeing her at the village hall dance the other night. Seeing her walking towards him through the crowd looking exactly the same as he remembered.
His uncle’s business associate from Lincolnshire, Lewis Hardy, was acquainted with her somehow and had beckoned her over. She was on the arm of the sister she had often talked about, but he had never met. What was her name again? That’s right. Olivia.
He had done his best to greet her cordially, but it had been hard. His instinct was to turn and run in the opposite direction. She didn’t look pleased to see him either; she had only stayed for a brief moment before declaring they were leaving. He had never seen a woman walk so fast through a crowd, practically dragging her sister by the arm. It had been very awkward.
He took a deep breath as he walked quickly to the door. At least it was over and done with now. Emmeline knew he was back in the district, and they had got that uncomfortable first meeting out of the way. They would both be wary and know to avoid each other if they ran into each other again.
His heart heaved in his chest. It was for the best. It truly was.
He hadn’t been able to resist questioning Hardy about her, though, asking if she was married. The gentleman had smiled slyly and replied that both the Vaughan sisters were still single. Benedict hadn’t liked the way the man had said it.
He ran down the stairs, cursing himself. What did it matter to him if Lewis Hardy had his eye on Emmeline? They were both single. It had absolutely nothing to do with him anymore. Too much time had passed; there was simply too much water under the bridge. That ship had sailed long ago.
***
But in the carriage on the way to the Ainsleys’ mansion, where the picnic was occurring, he was suddenly seized by a memory that was so real he felt he could reach out and touch it. The vividness of it was almost like a punch to the gut.
Emmeline, sauntering down the staircase towards him. She was wearing a pale green muslin and chiffon gown, swaying around her body as she descended, tiny white flowers scattered throughout her glossy brown hair, like stars. A soft smile played around her lips. His heart had started to beat rapidly in his chest as he watched her, transfixed.
He had never seen anything so enchanting in his life.
The very first time that he beheld her …
“Ben? Are you quite well?”
He jumped. The vision dissolved into the air like mist.
“Yes,” he said, taking a deep breath as he focused on his cousin. “Why do you ask?”
Ralph frowned slightly. “You were staring out the window looking as if you had seen a ghost, cousin.”
Benedict gave a strangled laugh. He could feel himself sweating. He pulled at his cravat in a vain attempt to cool down. This was madness – he could not indulge himself by thinking of her in this way. The past was the past, and they were both different people now. At least he was a different man. A man who could never love in such a way again.
“I am fine,” he said in a clipped voice. “Just fine.”
Ralph looked hurt. Benedict cursed himself. He was trying to repair his relationship with his cousin and talking to him so curtly wasn’t helping.
He simply must do better. And part of that was banishing any thoughts of Emmeline Vaughan from his mind entirely. He simply did not have the capacity for them at all.
***
A large group had assembled for the outing in the mansion gardens by the time they arrived. Benedict tried to pull himself together. He wished he was anywhere but here, but there was nothing he could do about it now. And the day would soon be over at any rate.
A lady peeled herself away from the group, approaching him. “Lord Montagu,” she said, a slight smile on her face. “It has been an age since I have seen you! Where have you been hiding all these years?”
He smiled uncertainly. The lady obviously knew him, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember her name. He studied her covertly as he battled his memory. A tall, willowy lady, with silky ink-black hair and rather startling green eyes. Suddenly her name slid into his mind. Lady Henrietta Wynn.
“Lady Henrietta,” he said bowing. “What a pleasure to see you again.”
He remembered her now. A rather imperious lady, who was a social doyenne in this district. He had met her on a few occasions over the years, and she had always tried rather hard to impress him. But there was an intrinsic coldness about her that had never appealed to him, despite her great beauty.
She smiled coyly. “And it is always a pleasure to see you, My Lord. But you have not answered my question. Why have you not graced us with your company in so long? I have looked for you but – alas – I have always been disappointed.”
He hesitated. He knew from his uncle that the true story of what had happened to him and Ralph in India had never been circulated. The official story was that he and his cousin had merely been there on business for an extended period. Uncle Richard loathed gossip and felt that such personal family business was sacrosanct. Something that he was fervently grateful for as he had no desire to talk about what had really happened in India anyway.
Lady Henrietta was obviously not aware of anything, not even the cover story. He took a deep breath.
“I have been residing in India, My Lady,” he said slowly. “Family business kept me there for the past few years, along with my cousin.”
“Ah,” said Lady Henrietta, her green eyes shining. “I thought you must be abroad, but I must say, I rather thought you were doing an extended tour of Europe rather than languishing on the subcontinent.” She wrinkled her nose delicately. “So much heat and dust, one would imagine.”
His heart clenched. “Indeed, madam. Rather a lot of both.”
More than you could ever know. More than you would ever want to know.
She laughed. “Yes, the subcontinent has never appealed to me.” She shuddered. “So many natives! How on earth did you endure it for so long?”
He smiled grimly. “I often ask myself that same question, madam.”
She twirled her parasol. “Well, it is of no matter now. You are back! And you are coming berry picking with us today. You must be so relieved to be in England and able to participate in a civilised life once more.” She fixed her gaze upon him. “Shall we walk together? We have such a lot to catch up on.”
He suppressed a sigh of irritation. He had no desire to accompany this lady and listen to her prattle. But it would appear rude if he refused her.
He held out his arm. “The pleasure would be mine.”
Smiling, she took his arm, glancing over at her friends triumphantly. His heart sank. He didn’t want to give Lady Henrietta the impression he favoured her, but it was too late now.
They were just about to set off into the woods when a flash of yellow caught his eye. His heart gave a wayward leap. It was Emmeline standing on the fringes of the group in a buttercup yellow gown with her sister by her side.
She had seen him as well. Her blue eyes widened almost in fright. They stared at each other for a moment. She was the first to look away, turning to her sister, who looked confused for a second before noticing him as well. Olivia’s face was hard and full of loathing.
He reeled back in shock. It was blatantly obvious that her sister didn’t like him one bit. And equally as obvious that Emmeline herself desired nothing more than to avoid him like the plague. He had thought he wanted that too, but now seeing their reaction, it shook him to the very core.
He had loved her ardently once upon a time. He had loved her with the whole of his being. He had desired to make her his wife; it had only been his circumstances at the time that had stopped him proposing to her. But he felt like he had wed her in body and soul. He had lain with her and made her his own.
A Lord's Flaming Return: A Historical Regency Romance Book Page 5