The Rejected Suitor (The Clearbrooks)

by Teresa McCarthy

  Jared felt every muscle in his body stiffen. He could not break through all four men. They fought like gladiators. He peered over the duke's shoulder and saw the last of Emily's white shoulders slipping down the hall. Curse the lot of them!

  His eyes shimmered with a dangerous glint as he glared at Roderick. "I take this as all your doing, Your Grace."

  The duke smiled. "All is fair in love and war. And we love Emily more than life itself. You will not be part of her life. Nothing personal, mind you. But she is too delicate for the likes of you."

  "Delicate?" he ground out. "Where have you been this evening? You must be insane. You of all people should know—" He stopped, noting the set faces of the additional three brothers. Jared could not in good conscience blurt out the information about Emily's scars and her work in the war effort. An agent's work was top secret.

  "You must see that this is nothing personal," Clayton replied with a frown. "From our point of view, our little Emily must have the best."

  Jared sneered. The duke's rejection had taken another turn. "Evidently, I take it, the best is not me?"

  Marcus slapped him on the back with a hearty chuckle. "Come now, you are quite like us. You know, drinking, gambling, women. Heaven above, we love you like a brother, Jared, but where Emily is concerned, the situation is not negotiable."

  Jared noticed that Stephen had not said a word.

  Jared angled an angry gaze toward the youngest brother. "And you. What say you of Emily's future?"

  "I want her to be happy and hope that she will eventually come to love Bringston. He's an agreeable fellow." Then, as if suddenly he was hit by a lightning bolt, Stephen stared back with a frown. "Jupiter, do not tell me you love her?"

  Jared stiffened. "What kind of question is that? I daresay, Bringston does not love your sister."

  "See. He does not love her," Roderick answered, scowling.

  Stephen's lips curled thoughtfully. "No, I believe that this time you are wrong, Roderick."

  Clayton and Marcus laughed, letting their hold on Jared relax. "You are what we call an addlepated nincompoop, Stephen."

  "Perhaps," Stephen said, stiffly. "And perhaps not. I feel that any man who will fight for our Emily is worth having his hat thrown into the ring."

  Roderick scoffed. "You have always been the softhearted one. Especially when it came to Emily. Do not be fooled by Jared or any other man like him."

  Jared carefully took in the sibling rivalry, watching with interest as Stephen's hands curled into two tight fists at the very suggestion of him being soft. Was the man going to go up against his three elder brothers?

  Jared narrowed his gaze as Stephen edged himself between himself and Roderick. "I believe our friend here should choose, and that is why—"

  With a quick jerk of his elbow, Stephen jutted Roderick in the stomach, then with two closed fists, bopped both Clayton and Marcus in the face. "I do believe this man should be given a chance.

  "You best be good to her," Stephen said in a low voice.

  Jared slipped from their grip and hurried to the exit, smiling to onlookers as they stared back at the Duke of Elbourne hunched over in an L-shape and his two brothers holding their noses.

  "Are you and Lord Stonebridge friends?" Lord Bringston asked as he helped Emily into the carriage.

  "We are acquainted." Emily took a place on the leather seat, feeling a dull ache beginning to grow in her chest.

  "Acquainted? Sounds rather distant."

  As the carriage rolled along the street, Emily avoided the man's discerning gaze and stared out the window while fresh tears began to dam on her lids. Lights from the lamps flew by in a hazy blur.

  "Have you known the earl long?"

  She gave a shrug, acting as if Jared meant nothing to her. Hopefully, Lord Bringston would believe her. "We have known each other for years. My mother is a good friend of his aunt."

  Bringston reached over to cup her face with a gentle hand. "If a mere acquaintance can cause those tears, my dear, what will I do to you?"

  She blinked. "I have a headache. That is all, my lord."

  "Hmmm. A headache and a mere acquaintance. Not a good mix, I fear."

  Emily let out a small, tremulous smile. "You are a wise man, Lord Bringston."

  "William, my dear."

  "William," she said softly, her throat aching with the memory of Jared and that woman.

  "Is it that disagreeable?" he asked in concern, moving his hands to hers.

  Emily nodded as the marquess wiped the tears from her cheek. She could not speak, the pain was so great.

  "Sometimes, my dear, love is not meant to be." He pulled her beside him and threw a comforting arm about her shoulder. His scent was a mixture of almond soap and fine brandy.

  "I would fight any man who would hurt you, Emily. You know that, do you not? But Stonebridge won't give up too easily."

  She sniffed. "H-he has another woman."

  "Another woman?" Bringston peeked out the window where the sound of approaching hoofbeats thundered in the air. "A problem to be sure. But I can only believe there is some mistake, my dear."

  Emily drew in a deep breath, wiping her eyes with his handkerchief. "Oh, no, there is no mistake." She sniffed. "I heard them talking about their engagement."

  "Stonebridge engaged? That would be news. But there has been nothing in the papers."

  She avoided his gaze. "They have yet to announce it."

  "I see," he said taking quick glances out the carriage window. He turned and suddenly took Emily by the shoulders. "If you ever find it in your heart to marry an old man like me, I will be there for you. Will you remember that, my dear?"

  Emily nodded.

  "Stand and deliver!"

  Emily bolted upright. "We are being robbed!"

  Lord Bringston rested his head against the leather seat and smiled. "Do not be alarmed, my dear. I feel the gentleman caller has come to save you from my wicked hands."

  Emily's eyes grew round when a masked man whipped open the door and shouted, "Your valuables, sir!"

  Emily leaned over, shutting the door on the man's fingers. "Go away, you fiend!"

  The highwayman man cursed. Bringston laughed. "Your game is up, Stonebridge. Take the girl and be good to her."

  Jared lowered the mask, and Emily gasped in outrage. "Close that door, William. I have no wish to speak to him."

  "William, now, is it?" Jared's eyes darkened as he took in the sight of Emily's body pressed up against the marquess. "Indeed, I may demand satisfaction after all."

  "Best not push me, Stonebridge. I have already offered my hand, but it seems she wants another."

  Jared lifted his brow. "Another?"

  Emily felt a wave of heat fill her cheeks. "I want nothing to do with you."

  Jared laughed, pushing his way inside. "Do you actually believe that would stop me, madam?"

  Emily felt a ray of hope spark in her heart.

  Suddenly her body slammed hard against Jared's as she was pulled to his side. "I will ask you politely, Emily. Will you please step down from the carriage?"

  "N—" But her answer was stopped with a quick kiss.

  Lord Bringston pushed his way between them. "Stonebridge! None of that! You will behave yourself. And by the by, what exactly have you done with my driver and footman?"

  "Your footman has been given a bit of coin to visit the local tap where I dropped him off."

  "Dropped him off?"

  Jared shrugged, his eyes sparkling. "So to speak."

  "And my driver?"

  "Ah, now on that part, I was quite lucky. You see, the man once worked for my father, and I recognized him straight away. Jimmy Dewer. I conveyed to him it was all a jest you had devised for the lady."

  Bringston narrowed his eyes in anger. "I do not take lightly to dropping my servants onto the streets. Neither do I care for you playing master to my driver. You have gone too far, Stonebridge, and have one minute to leave my carriage."

  Emily watch
ed in agitation as the air began to thicken with male pride. "Please, Jared. You must leave."

  Jared took hold of her hand. "Not without you."

  "Fifty seconds," Bringston said, taking out his pocket watch.

  Emily was frantic. "Jared, I beg of you."

  Jared ignored her plea, sitting back on the leather seat, making himself comfortable. "Convey to me when you are ready, my dear. Then I will leave .. . with you."

  "Forty seconds."

  Emily exchanged frenzied glances between the marquess and the earl. They were both maddening. "Very well. I will speak to you at the townhouse."

  Jared crossed his hands over his chest as if he would stay there forever. "Your brother has removed me from the premises."

  "He what?"

  "Has removed me."

  "I know what you said!"

  "Twenty seconds."

  "You are engaged to another woman, and you proposed to me."

  Lord Bringston looked up and scowled. "Fifteen seconds, and what have you to say about that Stonebridge."

  Emily stared at the marquess, her jaw dropping.

  "Who the devil asked you?" Jared snapped. "I am not engaged. Miss Wimble was never my fiancée and never will be."

  Emily's lips parted. Could she believe him? He would not have retrieved her if he did not want her, would he?

  Bringston's expression darkened. "Ten seconds."

  "Insufferable man!" Emily grabbed Jared's arm. "I will go with you! But only to save your stupid hide!"

  "Time's up." Bringston snapped his pocket watch closed.

  Jared hopped out the door, sweeping Emily along after him. "What stopped you from saying that in the first place?" he said. "It would have saved us an entire sixty seconds."

  "What would you have done if I refused to go with you?" she asked, trying to hold back her smile.

  He wound his arms around her waist, lifted her into another carriage, and signaled for one of his footmen to take his horse. "What would I have done?" He ran a hand over her face, sending a tingling warmth through her veins. "I would have done this."

  His mouth swooped down to meet hers in a possessive embrace. She gasped softly, and a dull ache moaned within her when he pulled away.

  "And you are not engaged to that woman?" she asked.

  He brought her hands to his lips. "I have told you the truth. What else can I do for the woman who saved my life?"

  "Pray, do not feel obligated to marry me out of honor."

  He closed his eyes and sighed. "I want you, Emily. Your saving my life has nothing to do with it."

  She choked on a blissful sob. "N-no more secrets, then?"

  He opened his eyes and kissed the top of her nose. "No more secrets, sweetheart."

  She buried her face in his neck, her heart singing with happiness. "I do love you, Jared, so much it hurts."

  "I know, sweetheart. I know."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Emily leaned over the rosewood sideboard in the Elbourne breakfast room, filling her plate with eggs and toast. Beside her Roderick grunted, slamming a double helping of kippers onto his plate and taking a seat at the end of the table.

  Emily plopped into a chair at the opposite end. "I don't believe a word of it," she said in a firm voice.

  Roderick glanced up, his nostrils flaring, his right brow raised. "Truly, you are an obnoxious female. Since your stay with Agatha you have become intolerable, telling me no, disobeying my orders, and most especially, cavorting with the enemy." His hand hit the table, daring her to deny it.

  "Cavorting with the enemy?" she snapped, pressing her hands to the sides of her plate. "I will have you know," she lowered her voice even though it was only the two of them in the room, "that the enemy was France, not the Black Wolf. In fact, your mighty dukeness"—at the sound of Stephen's familiar nickname, Roderick growled—"if my sources are correct, the Black Wolf saved your stubborn hide more than a few times over the past few years."

  Roderick turned red. Over embarrassment or anger, Emily was not quite certain, but this was the first time she had truly opposed her eldest brother without thoughts of leaving the room, and something wonderful inside her began to grow.

  "The war was one thing, Emily Anne. You are another. I know him, and he is not for you."

  Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Why, Roderick? Is he too much like you?"

  This time Roderick's face could not turn any redder. "We are not speaking about me," he hurled back. "You are becoming quite insolent with your nineteen years, young lady."

  In the hall the grandfather clock struck nine, and Emily smiled. "Oh, and another thing, I am not nineteen, Roderick." She sipped her juice and glanced over the rim of her glass. "You forget once again that I am twenty."

  "Do not jest with me, Em. You know you cannot marry without our consent until you turn twenty-one."

  "Ha. One more year and then your life will be so much simpler, should it not?"

  Roderick shot from his chair, his hands fisting at his sides. "I forbid you to marry that man!"

  Emily flitted her hand in the air. "Forbid away. I won't listen."

  "Have you forgotten what I told you?"

  "How can I not? You mentioned it last night and then again while I was sampling Cook's eggs."

  "And?"

  Emily dabbed at her food, afraid to show her brother her feelings. For in reality, she was afraid that his facts were indeed true. "I do not believe he has a child that he cast away like a piece of broken porcelain."

  "He was married. You cannot defend that."

  Emily swallowed. "Yes, he was married. His wife is dead. Pray tell, how does that change my position?"

  Roderick shook his head in exasperation. "He will not love you, Em. He has discarded his only child. Shipped the poor thing off to some remote cottage outside London. Some old hag takes care of her now."

  Emily shoved a helping of eggs past her lips and almost gagged. Roderick did tend to exaggerate. But could it be true? Could Jared truly have a child that he had abandoned?

  "I don't believe he would do such a thing. An old hag? Sounds like a fairy tale. And besides, Lord Bringston does not love me, so love does not strengthen your argument here, Roderick."

  "No, but Bringston will not abandon you."

  "I assure you, Roderick, I know what I am about."

  But Emily's stomach began to sour at the thought of Jared lying to her. If he had a daughter, why would he keep the truth from her?

  Later that afternoon her doubts about their relationship increased to monumental proportions when she met Jared in Hyde Park. Stephen had assisted her with the rendezvous by giving her a ride in a new phaeton, away from Roderick's prying eyes. But the youngest brother had also let Emily know his feelings about Roderick's recent findings concerning the earl's child, feelings that were no longer favorable toward Lord Stonebridge.

  Pulling the phaeton alongside the earl's awaiting carriage, Stephen gave the man a cool, assessing glare, then returned his gaze back to his sister as he handed her down. "I will meet you here in one hour, Em. Pray, do not make me come after you."

  Emily nodded and took Jared's hand as she entered his carriage.

  "I thought Stephen to be with us," Jared asked, frowning. "His cool glare told me he was not happy about you being in a closed carriage with me."

  "He wants only what is best for me," she said curtly.

  "And am I best for you?"

  Emily turned a confused gaze toward the park.

  "Emily?"

  She gazed over her shoulder. "What about your wife?"

  "She's dead. What else must I say?"

  "Tell me about her?"

  Jared knew it was within Emily's right to know his past, at least where his wife was concerned. Later, he would tell her about Gabrielle. When things were safe.

  "I believe I loved Felicia, in a protective sort of way. But for a while, I was not even certain of my own feelings on the matter. You see, Felicia had always been a frail thing, and the
trip to India almost killed her." He paused. "Eventually it did. She died of typhus."

  Emily drew in a sharp breath. "How dreadful."

  Jared scolded himself for holding back the fact that his wife had died three weeks after giving birth to Gabrielle, who was now two. But he had no reason to tell anyone about his daughter or her whereabouts until he was quite certain Monsieur Devereaux was no longer a problem. And now that Jared knew the role Emily had played in the war effort, it was all the more reason to keep her distanced from any conflicts that might arise. Devereaux would surely kill her if he discovered her identity.

  Ignoring his thoughts, Jared clasped his hands around Emily's face and dropped a finger to where her locket rested in the hollow of her neck. "A past love?" he asked, smiling.

  Emily blushed. "A gift from my father. It holds one of the daffodils he gave me that spring you left for India."

  Jared dropped her hands, his jaw stiffening at the mention of the old duke.

  Emily seemed not to notice his tense disposition, and she continued, "But what I cannot understand is why my father would not give you my hand in marriage? He would have given me anything. If only you would have told me, I could have spoken to him. Perhaps he thought I was too young."

  "No, there was another reason. It seems our respective grandfathers were in a duel a long time ago, and my grandfather lost his finger. Card game gone awry, I believe."

  Emily's brows gathered into a confused frown. "And that is why my father refused you, because of his father's silly duel? How preposterous. Neither of them died from it."

  Jared made a brief comment about a couple in the park, and their conversation took a turn to other things. At this point, their relationship was too fragile, and he was not able to convey to Emily the remainder of the story.

  How could he tell her that the silly duel had been passed on from generation to generation? How could he tell her that her father, someone she adored, had wanted the hand of Jared's own mother and was refused, all because of a lost finger and a man's pride? But most of all, how could he tell Emily that her father, bitter and vengeful, had refused Jared's suit and forced Jared into marriage with another woman so Emily would never have him?

  No, Jared would tell Emily the whole of it another time, when their union was secure.