Jared recalled the pain in Emily's voice, and his anger intensified. "How dare you treat her like ... like a piece of chattel."
"Wait just a minute," Roderick growled. "How would you feel if that was your sister and you saw the scar from a ball marring her body?"
Amber eyes struck back. "I, for one, would hope I would feel proud. Proud that my sibling had the gallantry to serve her country in the most precious way she could . . . with her life."
"She almost died in that attack!"
Jared let out a deep-seated sigh. "Don't you think I know that?" She could have died saving his thick, stubborn hide. The hideous thought ate at his soul.
The moon glowed brighter as Roderick began to pace in frustration, his heels clacking loudly against the floor. "Confound her. She best not think of doing any more jobs."
"I agree."
"You do?"
"Indeed, I will not have my future wife gallivanting about England and who knows where as a secret agent. Headquarters will understand now that we know each other. And we won't have to worry about St. Helena either. Moments ago I was delivered a coded missive via one of my aides. We are not needed at St. Helena after all."
Roderick's head jerked. He ignored the comment about St. Helena and went straight for the jugular. "What do you mean, your future wife?"
Jared realized this was not the time or the place to discuss his wedding plans. After a long pause, he spun on his heels to leave. "You must have heard us, Roderick."
Roderick grabbed his shoulder. "I forbid you to marry her!"
Jared turned, meeting Roderick's icy gaze with one of his own. Not again. Never again.
"Forbid away, Your Grace. But if I were you, I would add a tidy sum to those betting books at White's. A man like you could make a good profit with your inside information."
Roderick raised his right eyebrow in fury. "Take your belongings from our home. You are no longer a guest, Stonebridge."
"No, I won't be a guest much longer, will I? Mayhap you will have room for me in a month or two when I become your new brother?"
Emily had never been so humiliated in her life. She ran down the hall into the darkness of the green room, sinking into the first chair she saw. Wrapping her arms tightly around her stomach, she fought back the sobs that sprang to her throat. How long she sat there she did not know. But the horrid incident that had caused the scar on her back was nothing compared to the disgusted look in Roderick's eyes.
"Jared, dear. Where on earth have you been?"
Emily stiffened at the sound of a lady's sultry voice directly outside the door.
"Jared, I missed you. Where have you been off to, you naughty boy."
Emily carefully wiped the tears from her face and listened intently as two shadows fell into eerie shapes against the opposite wall.
"I needed some fresh air." At the sound of Jared's voice, Emily felt as if she would lose her dinner.
"Out here?" the woman laughed, and Emily saw the two shadows come together.
"No, I took a walk in the conservatory."
"I know a better place than that, darling. Through the ballroom and past the French doors. Now, there is a perfect place for us."
Emily pressed a shaking hand to her throat. An intense sense of betrayal coursed through her. Again. The tears she desperately tried to stop earlier began to flow silently down her cheeks. How could she ever have thought that Jared loved her? He pitied her. She had almost died for him, and now honor and duty made him propose.
"Do you never stop, Susan?"
"Not with you, darling."
Miss Susan Wimble. Emily heard nothing but the rustle of clothing. Her face grew hot with humiliation, her cheeks burning with the memory of lips that kissed hers only minutes ago were now kissing another woman's.
"Why should we wait, my lord? Why not announce our engagement tonight?"
"Not tonight."
"Why not?" the lady whined, and Emily sank deeper into the chair.
"I have business to attend to in the next few weeks," Jared replied matter-of-factly.
"Very well, but you promised me a dance tonight."
"Had I known you were coming, I would have prepared for your overbearing welcome."
The woman giggled.
A raw and biting grief overwhelmed Emily.
"I had believed you in the country aiding your ailing cousin?" Jared uttered.
"Oh, did I not tell you? Bess is much better."
"Is she now?"
"Darling, do not look at me like that," the lady snapped. "I cannot bear to have you angry at me."
The words drifted beyond Emily's ears. A deep and aching pain lodged in her chest. Could she ever face the man again?
She glanced at the window, where outside it had begun to rain. The drops pattered against the pane like rocks to her soul. She clasped a fist to her breast. Oh, Jared, how could you do it to me again?
"Have you seen Emily?" Jane asked her aunt as the strains of a cotillion floated above the dance floor.
Agatha tapped her parasol, sending a frowning glance in the direction of the ballroom entrance. "No, dear, I have not seen her for at least an hour."
Jane patted her fan against her chin. "Have you seen Cousin Jared then?"
Agatha looked over the crowd. "Believe he took to the card room. I suspect he will return momentarily."
Once again, Agatha's gaze drifted to the entrance to the ballroom. "Ah, there he is now."
Jane scowled. "And that Miss Wimble is hanging on to him like a bloodsucking parasite."
"Shhh. I told you, we are not to know a thing."
Jane bent her head and whispered, "How could he do that to Emily? How could he prance that little tease about the ball tonight when Emily had such high hopes?"
Agatha tapped her niece's powder blue slipper with the end of her parasol. "Listen to me, if you do not stop staring at him as if your eyes are about to fall out of their sockets, everyone in the ton will suspect something."
Jane pulled her fan up to cover her face as she spoke. "The lady in question is most inappropriate for him. Most inappropriate indeed."
"If I were you, young lady, I would keep that mouth of yours closed for the time being."
Jane's brows drew together as Miss Susan Wimble pulled her guardian onto the dance floor. "Why, I should like to say a few words to that . . . that woman. Only an hour ago I saw her flirting with Mr. Fennington."
Agatha let out a low chuckle. "Yes, those two would fit together quite nicely." There was a slight pause. "Ah, there is your duke, dear."
With her fan lifted just below her eyes, Jane tilted her head to her side. The Duke of Elbourne was leaning against the far wall, talking to the host. "Good gracious, why would you say he is my duke?"
"Come now, child, do not think me a simpleton."
Jane's head snapped around to meet Agatha's amused gaze. "I do not think you a simpleton. I am merely saying—"
"Jane, your heart is not as invisible as you think."
Jane blushed.
"But it would be in your best interest," Agatha went on, "and the duke's, mind you, if you kept your little meeting in the garden a secret. It seems His Grace is not looked upon with much favor from your guardian. And do not forget, it is your guardian who will have to sanction your future husband."
"No," Jane admitted with a frown. "It would be best not to say a word on the matter. Not a single word."
Agatha rose. "I will make my way toward the refreshment table, dear, and see to the duke. Mayhap he has seen Emily."
"Pray, do not get up, Aunt. I can ask him."
"No." Agatha's voice was firm. "You will not cause any more excitement tonight with those two hotheaded men. I am going to speak to His Grace, and you may search out Emily's brothers to inquire if they have seen her."
Agatha hastened to meet the duke before he was pulled onto the dance floor by the hostess. "Your Grace, I have not seen much of you tonight."
Roderick turned toward Agatha. "A
h, can you see enough of me now?" He gave her a teasing half smile, stood back, and bowed, showing off his full form, two swollen eyes and all.
Agatha glared at him, tapping her parasol on the floor. "You are an impertinent young man," she hissed for only him to hear.
"Well now," Roderick said as he glanced at Jared across the way. "Impertinent? I must be growing in your estimation. Let me see the last time you addressed me as such, I was an overbearing, contemptuous—"
"Impertinent young man," Agatha snapped. "Now, escort my old bones to a chair and fetch me some punch."
The corner of Roderick's mouth turned upward. "Fetch you some punch? Dear lady, if I did not know better, I would think that you are asking a duke, a high peer of the realm, to fetch you some punch."
Agatha gave him one of her famous smiles. "Oh, no, Your Grace, I am not asking you, I am telling you."
His smile twisted. "Telling me, eh?"
Agatha flipped her hand in the air. "We have matters to discuss. Important matters."
Roderick's jaw tensed. "About what?"
"Not about what, but about whom?"
"I am not going to speak to you about your nephew, Agatha. He should never have come to stay at the townhouse this Season. He has caused a great deal of distress in regards to Emily."
Agatha pursed her lips. "And what about Jane, then?"
His mouth softened. "Ah, now Miss Greenwell is another matter entirely."
"You forget that Jared is her guardian and unless you reconcile with him, you won't have a chance to marry his ward."
Roderick's mouth dropped opened in shock. "Marry? When, pray tell, have I ever mentioned a word about marriage?"
"Do not play me the fool, young man. Whether you wanted to or not, you inadvertently proposed marriage when you stepped out onto the terrace with my Jane."
The duke's forehead creased into a furrow of tiny lines. "And I suppose you would be the one to tell your nephew?"
"Serve me that glass of punch, and we will talk some more."
"Blackmail does not become you Agatha, not at all."
"Yes, so people have said." Agatha smiled as the duke retreated to the refreshment table. But her smile soon soured as Miss Susan Wimble swished off the dance floor in a rustle of pearls and silk, disappearing into the hall.
"Here you are," Roderick said a minute later as he bent down to deliver Agatha a glass of red wine.
"I said punch," she scowled, handing it back to him.
Roderick smiled and took a seat next to her. "Ah, but if I am an impertinent young man, as you say, I should not do your bidding."
"Where is your sister?"
He looked across the crowd. "I have not seen Emily. She should have returned by now. No doubt she's probably with Mother."
Agatha frowned. "Fetch Jared this instant. Over there, by the violins."
Roderick shot from his chair. "I believe this is where I do become the impertinent duke, madam. I will not—"
The parasol hit his leg, and he jumped. "You will fetch my nephew this minute or I will share with him my comments about the French doors and your lovely Jane."
Roderick's face hardened as he lowered his voice. "That is despicable, Agatha, even from the likes of you."
"I have been called worse. Now, off with you." She clacked her parasol against his shiny black shoes. "Hurry now. This is of the utmost importance."
"A matter of life and death then," he said sarcastically, bowing to her.
Agatha's eyes narrowed as the duke retreated into the crowd. "More than you will ever know," she murmured.
A faint shaft of light filtered from the hallway through the open door, stopping at the toe of Emily's slippers. She needed to return back to the ballroom before someone missed her. But she had no intention of giving Jared the satisfaction of seeing her cry. A metallic taste rose in her throat at the thought of Miss Wimble wrapped in his arms. What a fool she had been!
She would enter the ballroom with her head held high, her face wiped clean of all tears. She vowed to show him how indifferent she felt about his false proposal. She would prove to herself that she was immune to him after all.
"I see you are still here."
Emily flinched. She glanced up at the doorway, where the silhouette of a woman stood. Miss Susan Wimble. Even in the dim lighting Emily noted the pale yellow gown with its low-scooped neckline, showing more than enough bosom for two women.
Hopefully the darkness hid the wetness on her cheeks. She assured herself that this woman had no idea who she was or what she was to Jared. Emily drank in the sight of the attractive lady and felt her heart break in two. "Good evening."
"I had wondered where you had run off to after scurrying from the conservatory like a frightened little mouse."
Emily stared back in shock. Had the woman overheard her conversation with Jared, or even with Roderick for that matter? She spread her hands against her skirt. "The conservatory?"
The woman stepped into the room. "I happened to be taking a tour with the countess when I saw you run from the room."
Emily was momentarily speechless. Had the countess seen her with the other two men? Then, as if knowing her very thoughts, the woman snapped back.
"No, the countess did not see you. She turned into the blue room before you made your escape."
"I had been interested in the plants," Emily countered.
"Oh, I daresay, Lady Emily, you were interested in more than plants. And, yes, I know what you want. I saw you dancing with Lord Stonebridge, and I do not appreciate you smothering my fiancé with your girlish flirtations. If I were you, I would stay away from him. Far, far away."
"Is that a threat?"
"A threat?" The woman threw her head back and laughed. "No, take it as fact. You will stay away from him or I will make your life a living—"
"Hello, Susan."
Susan spun around, her eyes wide. "Jared. I thought you were still in the ballroom."
"Obviously."
Emily sank deeper into her chair as the dark shape of Jared's tall body came into view. The very way he stood there told her he was angry with the woman. His massive shoulders blocked any light shining into the room, and Susan shrank in his presence, yet her flowery perfume seemed to seep into every crevice in Emily's chair, making her ill.
"Lady Emily," Jared said curtly, looking down at her.
Emily felt a mounting fury so intense that she thought it might choke her. "Yes, my lord?" She unfolded her body from the chair and stepped forward.
"Emily—"
"Was just leaving," Susan interrupted. "Were you not, my dear?"
Emily lifted her chin and stared at the man beside her. "Indeed," she said stiffly and moved toward the door.
"Emily." Jared detained her departure with a firm hand to her elbow. "Miss Wimble and I—"
"Are more than friends," Emily spat out. She leaned away from him, her gaze still misty with tears. "Do not take me for a simpleton, my lord. I have two eyes." And only one heart, she thought, and you have broken it one too many times.
"Wait for me in the ballroom," he commanded, letting her arm drop to her side.
Emily pressed her lips together, not trusting herself to speak. She took one last glance at Miss Wimble's smiling face and retreated with unyielding dignity, her chin lifted, her steps unfailing, while inwardly, her heart felt sliced in two.
As soon as Emily entered the ballroom, Clayton, Marcos, and Stephen surrounded her like a gathering of grumbling hyenas.
"Dash it all," Clayton said in exasperation. "Where have you been?"
Stephen slid beside her. "By Jove, you have been gone over an hour. At first we thought you with Mother. But we just discovered she had not seen you the past hour either. Had we known, we would have been searching for you earlier."
Marcus moved in front of her, blocking her way to the hall. But Emily was not about to cater to their pompous attitudes now. She stared at them defiantly. "I appreciate your concern, but I daresay, my whereabouts
tonight are none of your affair."
Horrified at her outburst, Clayton and Marcus stared back at her as if she had a wart on her nose. But it was Stephen who smothered a chuckle, his eyes sparkling with surprise.
"None of our affair, is it now?" Marcus growled. "I will have you know that your welfare is our affair, little sister."
"Roderick," Clayton said, glancing over his shoulder as the duke approached. "Set her right, will you?"
Emily had no intention of letting her brothers bully her tonight. She had experienced enough of that from one man already. She decided that her only way to take her leave without them giving her another one of their pompous speeches was to hasten to Lord Bringston's side.
Her brothers had already picked the marquess for the top spot on the list of suitors as her future husband anyway. Just as Roderick made it to her side, she broke through the towering male forms and hastened around the perimeter of the room.
"Em, come back here," Roderick hissed.
Emily dismissed her brother with a contemptuous glare as she continued on her path to Lord Bringston. She felt quite relieved when the marquess took her hand, leading her past the refreshment table and onto the dance floor.
She held her breath when she caught sight of Roderick’s flashing gray eyes. Feeling daring, she answered back with a brilliant smile and watched with pleasure as four male mouths dropped open in shock.
"By Jove, she is not our little Emily anymore, is she?" Stephen replied.
Clayton frowned. "Look at Bringston drooling over her like a sick puppy. It's enough to make a grown man ill."
Stephen lowered his voice. "If I am not mistaken, Clayton, you had that same drooling face only fifteen minutes ago when you were dancing with Lady Eugenie."
"Lady Eugenie now, is it?" Marcus said with amusement. "I thought it was Lady Cassandra."
"No," Roderick interrupted. "That was an hour ago. Clayton's tastes change like the wind."
"Aho," snapped Clayton. "Speaking about tastes, what say you about Miss Jane Greenwell? I thought she was rather fetching in my arms."
The Rejected Suitor (The Clearbrooks) Page 15