"Fangs?" Jared grabbed a chair resting outside the door and started into the room as if he were preparing to stave off a man-eating lion. Behind him he missed Madame Claire opening her eyes for a peek. Agatha gave the lady a wink, and they both smiled.
"Sharp fangs, mind you," Agatha whispered from behind. "A huge, ferocious rat, Jared. Do be careful, my boy."
Jared's mouth tightened in disgust. Blast it all. He hated rats.
"Duchess, you are looking more beautiful than I remember."
The deep masculine voice drew the Duchess of Elbourne's gaze toward the open door of her carriage. Her heart sped at the sight of the handsome man that she had loved so many years ago. He would make her daughter a good husband. "Good afternoon, Lord Bringston. La, you were always the flatterer."
The marquess smiled. "I was a little scoundrel, was I not?"
The duchess let out a nervous laugh as she leaned out the carriage and nodded to the footman to allow the man his stay. "I am so very glad that my Emily is marrying you, William. She needs a firm, but loving hand."
Lord Bringston poked his head into the carriage. "I will take care of her, Anne. You must never be concerned about her safety."
The duchess swallowed. "I never doubted it, William."
"But what about our past, Anne? Should we tell her? She deserves to know the truth."
His eyes searched hers and she looked away.
"No. I don't want Emily to know a thing. You are to marry my daughter in a few days. What we had in the past cannot matter now."
Without being invited, Bringston slipped inside the carriage and sat across from her, pulling the door halfway closed. She gasped, but did not send him away.
Bringston leaned forward, his hands on his knees. "Anne, what we had in the past was stopped by both of our fathers, not us. We were young and in love. It was nothing to be ashamed of." He drew in an unsteady breath. "I was angry for a time, but seeing you now with your family, I realize that it was best we never wed. You have wonderful children, Anne. I envy you."
"I loved my husband, William," the duchess said, her lips quivering. "I loved him until the day he died." She wiped a gloved finger beneath her eye and sniffed. "Of course, I knew he never truly loved me the same way. He loved someone else, and you see, I believe he always knew about my first love and never let me forget."
Bringston took hold of her hand. "Dear, sweet Anne. I had no idea."
The duchess slipped her hand from his grasp and looked down at her lap. "Emily is fitting for her gown at this very moment. We must be friends, for her sake, William. Let us not bring up the past. We are mature adults now. Our past should not matter."
Bringston frowned and pushed a hand through his hair. "Still, I was hoping I could speak to her. Tell her the truth of the matter. It does not seem right."
The duchess's dark lashes swept upward in dismay. "Goodness no. You must not tell her, William. Promise me you will not. She does not deserve that. Please, William. She means too much to me. I know it is not a love match, but she needs you. Her life has been hard after her father died."
Light brown eyes clashed with violet blue. Bringston's hands clenched at his sides. "Very well, I promise you, Anne," he said stiffly. "If that is what you wish."
Roderick leaned against the outside wall of Madame Claire's establishment as he waited for Emily to finish her last fitting. The duchess had insisted on the duke acting as their escort, since Emily had been looking a bit under the weather. Roderick easily complied, but now he was rethinking his plans.
At present he could use a good, stiff drink at White's. There were only so many boot, cravat, and snuffbox shops he could handle. Boring as it may be, after his lone tour of the nearby shops, he situated himself back in the shadow of Madame Claire's, deliberately trying to avoid overzealous mothers hoping to pluck a duke for a son-in-law. If he did not make a departure soon, word would spread, and he was bound to be swallowed up by a convergence of mother hens.
The very idea made him scowl.
He looked up and caught sight of Lord Bringston making his way across the street. Relief swept through him. He was grateful for a man with whom to pass the time and was about to hail the marquess when the gentleman hopped inside the duke's own carriage and started conversing with the duchess.
Roderick started toward them, but stopped in midstride when the carriage door began to close and bits of Bringston's voice leaked to his ears. "Anne, what we had in the past was stopped by both of our fathers, not us."
Roderick's feet would not move. He felt the world tilt when his mother's voice floated just above a whisper. "Emily is fitting for her gown at this very moment. We must be friends, for her sake, William. Let us not bring up the past."
It could not be true. Roderick's mind went a thousand different directions. Was his mother in love with the man that was to marry Emily? Had Bringston loved his mother all these years? What the blazes was he to do? All his senses went temporarily numb. He even became blinded to the Stonebridge crest on the awaiting carriage only twenty feet away.
Jared treaded valiantly into the dressing room, holding the chair in front of him. The devil, he hated rats.
"Sabrine, are those vexing customers of Madame's at it again?" The female voice broke into his thoughts like a blow to his midsection.
There, behind the flimsy white dressing screen, the silhouette of an extremely well-shaped woman, pressing her hands against the sides of her gown, took his breath away.
"Sabrine?"
Jared halted. Emily?
He jerked his head to the door slipping closed behind him. Rats indeed! Two conniving rats if he knew his aunt. The silhouette turned and Jared stood immobile, entranced by Emily's beauty. He was going to strangle Agatha when this day was done!
"Never mind, Sabrine. It sounds as if Madame has taken care of the situation. However, I find myself in an awkward situation. It seems the two top buttons have become undone, and I cannot reach them to see how my bodice holds up to this silk."
Jared almost choked on his own saliva as he edged himself toward the screen. He watched Emily's shadow pivot again, and he nervously pulled at his cravat. Sweat formed along his brow.
"Sabrine?"
Jared stretched his neck in discomfort, then pulled at his waistcoat, moving around the screen.
Still oblivious to her awestruck onlooker, Emily bent down to touch her slipper. "There," she said as she wiggled, trying to fix something, then stood up, her back to the mirror.
Without saying a word, Jared stood wide-eyed, reached toward the gown, and gently slipped the delicate buttons into their perspective places.
"Will that do, sweetheart?" he said in a husky whisper.
Emily spun around, her violet eyes widening in disbelief. "This is most improper, my lord."
Jared picked at the lace attached to her dress, his fingers trailing along the edge of her sleeve. The last bit of his fierce determination to stay angry with her was instantly squelched. He could not let her marry another.
"Improper is what you are doing," he said curtly, dropping a stiff hand to his side.
She looked away, her slim fingers tracing the edge of the screen. "I'm to marry Lord Bringston in three days, so if you have anything to say about it, please . . . wish me a happy life."
Jared stared at the black tresses piled above her slender white neck and waited for a sign that she still wanted him, still loved him. Pride kept him from begging her to come back to him. With more control than he knew he had, he kept his hands stilled at his sides.
"You cannot marry him. You do not love him."
Her shoulders slumped and she pressed her hands to her face. "I have made my choice and you have made yours."
"I was afraid for my daughter because of my work, is that so hard to understand?"
Without warning, she pushed past him and fled from the room. He opened his mouth to call her back, tell her he loved her, but the words would not come.
Agatha suddenly popped into t
he room and rapped her parasol against his Hessians. "What kind of Englishman are you?"
"One with a broken toe if you do not desist your insistent thumping of that blasted weapon, madam."
Indifferent to his warning, Agatha rapped her parasol harder against his leg. "Go after her, you fool!"
Jared's patience was slipping. "I will meet you outside, madam, because if I do not, I will surely be tried for murder."
But Agatha was not about to be slighted. "Kidnapping, bribery, anything will work. I thought you learned something the last three years!"
He grabbed the handle of the door and stared over his shoulder. "Fool? Kidnapping? What a wholesome mixture, Aunt. Just swipe Emily from the bosom of her family, and she will be mine. Why ever did I not think of that before?"
"La, you think me mad, do you?" Agatha snapped, lowering her voice. "So you are telling me that you are just going to sit around while sweet Emily has some other man's babe?"
At the thought of another man giving Emily children, Jared pounded his fist against the wall in rage. "The devil she will!"
Agatha's eyes twinkled with triumph as she drew in a deep sigh. "I daresay, kidnapping sounds lovely, does it not?"
Jared regarded his aunt with a detached inevitability. "Lovely."
Chapter Sixteen
Emily dabbed a drop of rose water on her neck, staring at Jane through the looking glass of her bedchambers at Elbourne Hall. "Happy? How could I not be? Lord Bringston is gentle and kind, everything I should want in an agreeable husband."
Jane frowned, setting a curled tendril of Emily's ebony hair over her ear. "Kind and agreeable? But is that enough?"
Emily took in the soft silk wedding gown she was wearing and forced a smile. "I will have my freedom, Jane."
"Oh, Emily. But is freedom worth your heart?"
Emily brushed an imaginary piece of lint off the lace of her dress, weary of arguing. "Lord Bringston will take care of me. I will want for nothing."
She gazed back into the looking glass, giving her pale cheeks a pinch for color. "My brothers seem to agree."
Jane curled her fists in anger. "Your insufferable brothers! I will never forgive him, the mastermind of it all."
Emily's brows drew together in concern. "Jane, please, you must not blame Roderick. It was my choice."
"Did you know Cousin Jared sent me a letter yesterday?"
Emily shrugged, not wanting to show her interest. "And?"
"And he has given me his blessings concerning Roderick."
Emily turned around and gave her friend a hug. "Oh, how wonderful. Now, I will have a sister."
Jane pulled back and held Emily's hand. "You must see that Cousin Jared is not an ogre, dearest. He has a heart. It's not too late to cancel the wedding."
Emily sighed. "I don't want to speak of it. Please. But back to you, I am assuming Roderick has asked for your hand."
"Yes, but he never said he loved me, you know."
Emily's eyes widened. "Gracious, did you refuse him?"
"No."
"He loves you, Jane. He is just a bit proud." She wondered if Jared had the same pride.
"And arrogant. And stubborn." Jane's eyes flashed with mischief. "And handsome."
Emily smiled. "And that is why you love him?"
"Oh, Emily, that is not what I wanted to talk with you about. You would not have felt forced to choose Bringston if those fool brothers had not interfered in your life, including Roderick. You and Cousin Jared would have had a chance."
"Your guardian made his choice the day he kept his secrets from me, Jane. It was not Roderick who did that. Please, let us not bicker on my wedding day, I beg you."
"But, Emily—"
Emily shook her head. "I will be a married woman soon. Be happy for me, Jane. I am happy for you."
"Very well. I won't try to stop you, and I do so want you to be happy." Jane giggled. "But I must tell you that one of the maids mentioned she thought she saw Mr. Fennington wandering about the village yesterday."
Emily smiled. "I doubt the man is within twenty miles of here." But her memory of Jared booting Fennington out of the conservatory brought her thoughts full circle.
Jared. The undeniable fact was she still loved him, and Lord Bringston knew it. Yet the marquess was still going through with the wedding.
"Nevertheless, I believe he wants you very badly," Jane said, her eyes dancing. "But seriously, dearest, anyone could fall in love with you. I believe Mr. Fennington is not such a fool after all. You do make the most perfect bride."
Perfect, Emily thought sadly. With pearls, lace, silk, and her friends and family at her side, everything was perfect.
Everything but her heart.
Stephen paced the floor of the Elbourne library, his expression grim. "By Jove, you have certainly botched this affair with all the glory bestowed on your dukedom, Roderick."
Roderick's penetrating gaze turned black as midnight. "Correct me if I am wrong, but was it not you who voted on Lord Bringston being the best choice for Emily?"
Clayton snorted, raising one black pump shoe toward the hearth. "We are not fools, Roderick. Give us some credit. You were the one that instigated this entire affair."
Marcus narrowed his gaze on his eldest brother. "Yes, indeedy, Your Grace. You have unquestionably bungled this entire affair into cataclysmic proportions."
Roderick downed his third glass of brandy and slapped the snifter onto the sideboard. "How the hell was I supposed to know Bringston was mother's childhood sweetheart?"
"Childhood sweetheart?" Stephen snapped, halting by the duke's desk. "I would say it was a bit more than that."
Roderick scowled. "He was a mere child at seventeen. Mother was what? Twenty-one? None of it makes sense."
Stephen snorted. "Ha, and what pray tell were you thinking at seventeen, Roderick? Or doing? I am quite certain your life was not mere child's play."
Marcus gave a sarcastic laugh, his fingers slowly drumming the sideboard near Roderick. "Bringston is no longer a mere child. He is in love with our mother and not his wife to be. The situation is intolerable, and you, Roderick, are the cause."
All at once Marcus raised his hand and cuffed Roderick on the shoulder, splashing brandy on the duke's white linen shirt.
A tense hush fell over the room.
Roderick shot Marcus a scorching glare. "I will forget that happened only because it is Emily's wedding day."
Marcus's gray eyes flashed with contempt. "Your shirt has a bit of a spot on it, does it now? And you wish to pass on boxing my ears? Thunderation, I am overwhelmed at your benevolent indulgence, Duke. Thank you kindly."
Stephen's smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "Looks as though you have been shot, Roderick. Right through your sordid, dukie heart."
"Very good, gentlemen," Roderick said in a stern voice, "make your jests, but if we fail to derive a plan in the next thirty minutes, Mother's future as well as Emily's will be forever our fault."
"Our fault?" Clayton scowled. "Ho! Do not include us in this little scheme of yours. 'Tis your fault, Roderick! Your arrogant, egotistical fault!"
Roderick's first blow made contact with Clayton's chin, sending the man flying against Marcus's chest with a thud.
"So that's the way of it, is it?" Stephen countered, a challenging smile crossing his face as he immediately tore off his jacket, watching Clayton staggering to a standing position.
"You keep out of this," Marcus said indignantly, as if Stephen had no right to question their authority.
Stephen's first blow swung wide, knocking both Clayton and Marcus to the floor. "That, you conceited oafs, is for Emily." He shrugged. "And me."
"Well done," Roderick said, smiling. "Well done, indeed."
Stephen's eyes twinkled, his only warning before he granted the duke a facer, sending the gentleman to the floor.
Stephen pulled his shoulders back in triumph. "Gentleman Jackson has been giving me a few pointers, boys. Now," he said, clearing his thr
oat, "enough of your hare-brained schemes involving Emily. This is the plan that we will follow . . ."
Emily nervously fingered her book of Wordsworth poems and choked back a sob. "Oh, Jared. What am I going to do?" If only you had told me you loved me, I would have had some hope.
She pressed the book to her chest, knowing in five minutes that she was to exit her chambers and make her wedding vows. Yet she knew she could not follow through with it. Lord Bringston deserved a woman who loved him, and no matter what Jared had done to her in the past, Emily would always love him.
It was useless. She dropped the book onto the bed and buried her face in one of her pillows, smothering a sob.
Oh, Jared.
A light scratch at her window brought her head about. Wiping the evidence from her face, she groaned at the thought of Mr. Fennington bothering her today of all days. It could not be him. The maid had been wrong. It had to be the wind.
Another scratch.
She stiffened. "Dear heaven, not again."
Another scratch.
She would have laughed at the situation if she did not find herself in such wretched circumstances. Blinking back tears, she marched across the floor and tore back the curtain. A pair of scuffed Hessian boots hung onto the sill. She could not see the rest of the man, but she had no doubt of the identity of her caller and her lips thinned.
"Mr. Fennington, my brothers will surely kill you if they discover you. This is not the time to play the knight in shining armor. I have made my choice. I should think—"
She was interrupted when the man began to wobble. With a groan, she reached out to grab hold of Fennington's leg. "Sir, I declare you are vexing me to no end. To no end!"
With one hand wrapped around his calf, she froze. Mr. Fennington's powerful limb surprised her, sending a shiver of recognition throughout her body. Mercy, she was truly mad if Mr. Fennington made her heart thump.
"Hold on to me and climb inside." You fool!
Suddenly she felt herself falling backward with a resounding oomph. Mr. Fennington slammed on top of her, knocking the breath out of her. She pushed at his chest, clasping a more massive body than she had ever remembered. Not that she had ever touched Mr. Fennington so intimately before, perhaps that time in her bedchamber and then in the conservatory. But . . . oh! This was the end! The wretched man was not making a single move to leave her person.
The Rejected Suitor (The Clearbrooks) Page 20