Roderick pushed Clayton against the wall while behind them Stephen and Marcus began to chuckle.
"Boys." Their mother's voice sounded in the distance.
"Mother," Stephen drawled, turning toward her, smiling. "What can we do for you?"
"Have you seen Emily? I need to speak to her about an invitation I just received from the Duke of Wellington."
"Wellington's here?" Roderick asked.
"Over there." His mother pointed across the room. "The man has been here only five minutes, and as luck would have it, I met him at the door just as I was speaking to the countess."
She sighed in delight. "Oh, what a hero. I want our Emily to meet him." She looked about. "Have you seen her about?"
"Over there." Stephen tilted his head across the dance floor. The duchess picked up her spectacles. "I daresay the man beside her does look familiar."
"Lord Bringston," Stephen offered.
The duchess gave a tremulous smile. "Ah. You have done well with your choice, dears. Why the man is known throughout all of England as a positively handsome specimen, not to mention a very honorable gentleman indeed."
She let her spectacles fall to her bosom and cleared her throat. "But he is much older than your sister, is he not?"
"Five and forty, Mother."
"Four years younger than myself," she said, frowning. "Do you believe he is in good health?"
Stephen raised a sardonic brow. "Well, Mother, we have not yet given him the physical."
"Physical?" the duchess asked warily.
"Yes, he will have to beat Roderick at boxing." Stephen looked at his older brother and laughed. "That in itself will not be too hard. But then he will have to win Clayton at a game of whist, and of course with Marcus, he will have to drink him under the table and then—"
The duchess gasped. "Marcus, do you drink to excess?"
Marcus gave his brother a curt glance and looked back at his mother. "Stephen jests, do you not, dear brother?"
Stephen covertly received another elbow to his gut and spoke through pained lips. "Jesting, Mother. Only jesting."
"This is not the place to jest, dear boy. Now, I need to speak to Emily."
"She's gone," Roderick said with a scowl.
"What?"
"She disappeared through the French doors."
"The cad," Clayton snapped. "I am going to break his confounded neck."
The duchess held Clayton back. "You will do no such thing."
"Then I will go," Roderick growled. "What does Bringston think he is doing? This was not in the plans."
"The same thing you were doing tonight, I suspect," Stephen added.
"What?" the duchess asked.
"We are wasting time," Marcus interrupted. "Our Emily is out there with that . . . that man!"
"Of course, he is a man," the duchess said. "What, pray tell, do you think Lord Bringston is? A monkey?"
Roderick heaved a frustrated sigh. "There is no time to argue about this. Our Emily is in jeopardy out there."
"What can happen?" the duchess asked with innocent eyes.
All four male mouths thinned.
"He is a man, Mother. That is all you need to know," Roderick snarled. "I am going to retrieve her."
His mother put a hand to his chest. "You are not."
He stiffened. "What?"
"You are not going to retrieve your sister. If you believe that Lord Bringston is the man for her, then you will leave well enough alone."
Stephen looked almost cross-eyed as he stared at the French doors, his arms flailing. "But he ... the man ..."
The duchess glared at her four sons. "He is a gentleman and will act accordingly."
All four men rolled their eyes.
"I forbid you to interfere with Emily and Lord Bringston," she commanded. "Do you boys understand?"
A tense silence filled the group. The music played on. The sound of voices drifted in and out of the family gathering. The duchess looked every one of her sons in the eye. Each acknowledged her command with a curt nod. Everyone except Roderick, whose jaw turned taut with fury. "Roderick?"
"I heard you."
"And?"
"I cannot in good conscience let Emily out there with that man."
"And pray tell, why not?"
"Because."
"Because you took Miss Jane Greenwell out there over an hour ago and you kissed her?"
Roderick looked up, momentarily speechless. "I—"
"What's good for the goose is good for the gander."
Roderick rubbed his hand against his jaw in confusion. "What the devil are you talking about, Mother?"
"Do not take that tone of voice with me, Roderick."
"Good evening again, Duchess." Wellington's baritone voice penetrated the family gathering.
"Ah, good evening," the duchess replied graciously. "You are familiar with my sons Clayton and Marcus?"
Wellington smiled. "They served me well at Waterloo. And I hear your youngest son served as well." The man was introduced to Stephen.
"And my eldest?" the duchess replied.
"We have met before." Wellington's eyes twinkled.
"Yes, before Waterloo," Roderick said as they shook hands.
"I hear Lord Stonebridge is about?" Wellington raised an inquiring brow at Roderick's two swollen eyes as if knowing the man in question had produced the damage to the young duke.
"Indeed," Roderick said, crinkling his brow. "At the moment, though, I cannot seem to place him."
Chapter Twelve
Miss Susan Wimble stood in the green room of Garrick Hall, her small white hands clenched at her sides. "You have no right to pay attention to that woman when I am your fiancée."
"No right?" Jared replied angrily. "How is it that I have no right when you have been paying attention to your so-called cousin in the country who is your third cousin once removed and very, very male."
Susan stiffened in response, then in a heartbeat she was as soft as silk. "Darling, we must not fight. I was just so jealous when I saw that girl."
Jared ground his teeth. "She is not a girl. She is a woman."
Susan flitted her hand in the air, then slid her palms up his chest. "Whatever you say, darling. Are we going to announce our engagement tonight?"
Jared wrapped his hands around her wrists, pushing her away. "There will be no announcement."
The lady forced out her lower lip like a ten-year-old child. "But you said after the Season was over."
"I said we would have this time as a grace period to work out the details. But it seems one little detail is yet to be worked out."
The lady wiggled her curvaceous body alongside him. "One little detail should not stop us."
"It might," he said, clenching his mouth tighter as he held her away.
"Well then, what detail are we talking about?"
Jared felt his patience waning as Susan plopped down on the chair that Emily had been sitting in only minutes ago. He watched in amazement as the lady began to fiddle with her nails.
"Oh, look at that." She looked up and held her hand in the air, showing off her ripped fingernail. "I believe I tore this one on the fireplace before I came to the ball. Father was in such a hurry, you know."
Jared barely listened to the lady's incessant chatter. His stomach twisted with guilt as he recalled Emily's pale face and lifeless eyes. He had hurt her deeply. Again.
"I have come to a decision," he said, staring down at Susan.
The woman looked up, smiling. "You will make the announcement tonight," she squealed and jumped up. "I knew it. Oh, I knew you would."
Jared was caught off guard when she pressed her lips to his. He immediately released her. "Stop it."
Her eyes began to glitter with tears. Jared would have cringed with guilt, but it was the best acting he had seen since Drury Lane.
"What is it, darling?" she asked pursing her cherry red lips. "Is it my perfume?"
Jared wanted to make this as easy as possible. In
his heart he knew he had decided a long time ago not to marry this woman. Emily only solidified his choice.
"I cannot marry you, Susan."
Long thick lashes flew upward in shock. "You cannot marry me or you will not marry me?"
"Both."
"I see," she said with narrowed eyes. "And does this have anything to do with that silly halfwit who was in here moments ago?"
Amber eyes battled with blue, and Jared wondered what insanity had led him to ever consider marrying this black-hearted witch. Her question did not even deserve an answer.
"Then let me tell you one thing, my lord." The lady sauntered toward the door and glanced over a creamy white shoulder. "Had it not been for your sizable wealth, I can guarantee I never would have looked at you twice. And as for children," she laughed, "I would never have had your heir. You can take my word for that. I would never have taken the chance of having a child born to me and lose my precious figure. So good riddance to you. Mayhap I should work on the duke." With those last words she was gone.
The chilly air nipped at Emily's neck as she sat on the stone bench with Lord Bringston. His profile was strong, yet boyish. His dark hair held a hint of gray at the temples, and she felt safe with him. But he was not Jared.
She stifled the sob that rose in her throat and looked down the path. "My brothers have spoken to you?"
The marquess took off his black jacket, wrapping it about her shoulders. "Yes, you are a beautiful woman, Lady Emily. I would be a fool not to take them seriously."
"I see, my lord."
"Call me, William," he whispered, turning her cheek.
She gazed into warm brown eyes and felt a gentleness in this man that touched her deeply. Though she would never love him like Jared, she began to think that perhaps her brothers were right after all. Perhaps they had chosen wisely.
"Why have you not married?" she asked boldly.
He looked up at the trees where the dappled moonlight played against his tender expression. A soft wind ruffled his hair.
"I will be honest with you, Lady Emily," he sighed and glanced toward the chandeliers that lighted the ballroom, "I fell in love once. The woman was four years older than I, and her father forbid us to wed. A short time afterward, she was married. By now she has all but forgotten me."
"But you were a wealthy marquess? Who could deny you?"
"I was but seventeen."
"Seventeen ... I see." Emily looked up at the moon and frowned. It was large and luminous—everything her heart was not. "I was seventeen when my father turned down one of my suitors as well. Believe what you will, but my brothers could never make me wed a man I had no wish to marry."
Lord Bringston took her hand in his. His grip was warm and gentle, like her father's. The more she thought about it, the more she began to realize her father probably thought her a mere child when Jared had called on him. Yet her father's rejection still hurt.
"I need an heir, Emily. Though my brother is next in line, he is not wed, and at this point, never plans to be. I cannot claim to love you because my heart has always belonged to someone else, but I can assure you, I will be faithful to you and provide for you always."
He knelt down before her, bringing her hand to his lips.
"I know our age difference may cause you to worry over an uncertain future, but I am in good health, and in time, I believe we will come to trust and respect one another. So, alas, dear lady, I am asking you to be my wife. If you wish, we can look upon it as a marriage of convenience. These things are done all the time."
Emily lowered her eyes. Two proposals in one night. One true. One false. "I do not know what to say."
"Pray, do not give me your response now. Take some time to think about it. I will give you two weeks and wait for your reply."
Emily was too dazed by his immediate proposal to decline his offer. She parted her lips to speak, but he stopped her by placing his finger lightly to her cheek. "It is best that we return now. I am certain your brothers are scouring the grounds for you." His gray eyes sparkled with mischief.
Emily's lips slowly curved into a beguiling smile, followed by a bubbling laugh as they headed back toward the ballroom. "They are arrogant little devils, are they not, my lord?"
Lord Bringston patted her hand and chuckled. "Being four of them, my dear, and one of me, I believe they can be anything they want."
Emily smiled at him. He was not a bore as she had once thought he would be, but a true delight. Her slippers crunched slightly over the walkway as they approached the French doors to the ballroom. "But tell me, you are handsome enough, and wealthy enough, why have you chosen to marry me? You could have married anyone you wanted."
Lord Bringston looked beyond the crowd and sighed. "Do not take this as an insult, my dear, but I decided that it was time to marry and you are as close to my true love as I will ever come. I hope that does not offend you."
Emily paused, clasping his hand in a warm embrace. "I am honored. Thank you for telling me the truth." Emily knew that this man would treat her with all the respect and kindness she could ever ask for. He would give her everything but his heart, because his belonged to another, and so did hers.
Jared's black shoes slapped the Garrick hallway in an even, unhurried manner as he strode from the green room toward the ball. He had waited a good amount of time to take his leave until he knew Miss Susan Wimble was safely out of his immediate vicinity. The torment he had seen in Emily's eyes had severed his soul, but he intended to set everything straight soon enough. Perhaps a bouquet of golden daffodils would give him an edge. She had always loved those Wordsworth poems . . .
"Jared, or should I say, Lord Stonebridge."
The familiar voice reverberated in Jared's brain, and he turned, startled to see Wellington standing a few feet away. Beside the noted hero stood Roderick, half in the shadows of the white pillar just inside the ballroom.
"Evening, gentlemen," Jared replied calmly, wanting to leave their presence and search the dance floor for any sign of Emily.
"Looking for someone?" Wellington asked with a laugh as he slapped Jared kindly on the back. "Or should I say some special lady from the looks of you?" He raised a discriminating brow in the direction of the dance floor. "Lost in the sea of eligible beaux I take it."
Jared smiled, feeling every dagger from Roderick's snapping eyes. "I am afraid you have caught me, sir. I am indeed looking for someone special."
After a few minutes of polite conversation, Jared made his excuses and strode toward Agatha and Jane.
"Have you seen Lady Emily?"
Agatha scowled. "I sent you into the hall to look for her. What happened?"
Jared watched the parasol twitch in the lady's hand, and he took a step back. "I do believe I lost track of her, and I did promise her one more dance."
"Three dances?" Jane clapped her fan closed. "Truly, Cousin Jared. Do not think me a simpleton."
"Simpleton?" Jared asked as he straightened his waistcoat. "Why the devil does everyone suppose I believe them simpletons?"
"That is beside the point, my boy," Agatha said, glowering at him as she nibbled on a small crumb cake.
Jared smothered a groan. "Have you seen her?"
"The question is," Jane said lowering her voice, "have we seen you?"
Jared tried to mask his irritation by putting on a calm face. "Me?"
Jane's eyebrows rose in disgust. "Yes, you."
"Come clear with me, Jane. What precisely do you mean?"
Agatha dabbed her lips with her napkin. "Our dear Jane is trying to tell you that we both eyed Miss Susan Wimble coming and going from the ballroom. One could only assume that with your absence during those times"—the older lady shrugged, looking beyond the bright chandeliers toward the entrance—"well, as you can see, dear boy, one thought evidently leads to another."
Frustration took hold of Jared's mind. "Mere assumptions, I assure you. I am not engaged to Miss Susan Wimble. So if you would be so kind as to point me in the dir
ection of Lady Emily, I would be ever so grateful."
Jane folded her hands across her chest. "Grateful? Hmphh."
Jared glared at his aunt, feeling a vein throbbing in his neck. "Agatha?"
The older lady's eyes flashed with pure annoyance as she lifted her parasol, pointing it in the direction of the French doors. "Keep looking and you may see your future going up in a puff of smoke."
A familiar laugh suddenly filtered over the music, drifting past the leaves of a large fig tree blocking part of the French doors. Jared ate up the floor toward the opening and stopped cold as a smiling couple emerged, stepping into the room—Emily and Lord Bringston. Except for the marquess's age, Jared knew the man was perfect for her.
"Lady Emily." Jared nodded curtly. "Bringston."
"Stonebridge," the marquess answered coolly.
Before Jared was allowed to say another word, Emily’s voice broke into his thoughts. "Forgive me, Lord Stonebridge, but Lord Bringston was about to escort me home. I have suddenly developed a dreadful headache and need to take my leave. Would you be so kind as to excuse us?"
Jared's eyes clung to Emily's flushed face.
Emily bit her lip.
Bringston frowned, looking from Stonebridge to Emily, then back again. "Forgive us, Stonebridge. But we must take our leave; the lady did mention a headache." Bringston took hold of Emily's arm and escorted her across the room.
Jared paused, fighting the urge to take Bringston apart limb by limb. A flicker of apprehension took over his thoughts as he strode after them. Was Emily truly thinking about marrying the marquess?
"Ah, friend, so good to see you again," Clayton said, gripping Jared's shoulder in an iron hold.
Jared glared back into four pairs of reproachful eyes and took a quick step to the side.
"Sorry to detain you, old boy, but duty calls." Roderick blocked his path, moving the lot of them into a corner alcove and out of sight.
Jared bit out a curse when Marcus brushed up against his back. "Let her be, Jared. You do not love her. Any man is as good as the other if he can take care of her, and Bringston will do just that."
The Rejected Suitor (The Clearbrooks) Page 16