Her Reluctant Groom (Groom Series, BOOK 2)

by Rose Gordon

  “No,” she said, making a fool of herself by standing on her toes and trying to grab the papers.

  He grinned. “What are you hiding?”

  “Nothing. Just go on and read them,” she said with a sigh, resigned. “You'll know soon enough, I expect.”

  Marcus lowered the little bundle of papers, but instead of reading them, he shoved them into his breast pocket. “Come have tea with me, and I'll give them back.”

  “Promise?” she asked, chastising herself for looking forward to the prospect of tea alone with him.

  “Promise.” He picked up the box Caroline sent.

  Emma waited by the front door while he gave instructions to the coachman. Chapman, Ridge Water’s butler, came out to greet her like he always had when she came to visit. She politely greeted him back and inwardly commanded herself not to smack him upside his head for not being the one who had come to the door. That was his job. He was the butler. He was supposed to have greeted her at the door, not Marcus.

  “Blue room,” Marcus said, coming up the steps.

  Emma nodded and placed her hand on his proffered arm, allowing him to set the pace. He stopped off for a second to leave the box in his study then continued down the hall to the room known to them all as the blue drawing room.

  A tea service was already set out with two cups and a giant plate of biscuits. She smiled up at him. “Either your servants are excellent at eavesdropping or you planned this.”

  “Which would you prefer to believe?”

  “The truth,” she said, letting go of his arm and going to sit on the settee closest to the teapot.

  Marcus sat down across from her, shocking her to the core. Usually Marcus sat in the corner where he'd be covered by shadows. “I planned it.”

  “Oh.” Her traitorous heart beat out of control.

  He leaned back against a giant pillow. “Gets lonely around here, thought I'd make the most of a visitor.”

  “I see.” Disappointment washed over her. Apparently anybody would have sufficed to provide him his afternoon entertainment.

  He accepted the cup of tea she'd poured for him and brought it to his lips to blow on it before taking a sip. He made a sour face. “That stuff is terrible,” he said, putting the cup down so indelicately half of it sloshed over the side then onto the saucer and table.

  She took a sip and swallowed it just as fast as she could. “Seems your cook forgot to drain the leaves out,” she said, pulling a tea leaf off her tongue.

  Marcus suddenly looked away, crossed his arms, and shifted on his chair. “I apologize. Don't drink anymore.”

  Emma pushed her tea and saucer away from her then grabbed a biscuit and took a bite. “The biscuits are good.”

  His eyes were fixed on her in the oddest way. “You've a bit...” He trailed off and brought his finger to his lips.

  She blushed and licked her lips as quickly and thoroughly as possible, not wanting to leave a single crumb on her lips. She was a grown woman, for pity's sake. She should be able to eat without making a mess. “Better?”

  “Yes,” he barked roughly, shifting once again.

  She pushed the plate toward him. “Try one.”

  Stiffly, he leaned forward and snatched a biscuit. He broke it in half and placed half into his mouth, nodding his approval. “Good,” he remarked. “Quite an improvement over that bitter tea.”

  Emma looked around the room, not sure what to say. She hadn't been alone with Marcus since she was twelve and he was sixteen and he took her to fish in the stream.

  Marcus stared right back at her, seeming equally uncomfortable.

  “I should be going,” she burst out, standing. “May I have my papers back, please?”

  Marcus blinked at her and slowly dug into his pocket to grab her papers. His eyes left hers and his fingers unfolded the bundle. “What's this?” He glanced up at her after he’d read the first few sentences.

  She crossed her arms. “None of your business,” she snapped. “Just give them back.”

  His eyes continued to travel the lines of the first page before flipping to the second. “A governess?”

  “Yes,” she said sharply, plucking the papers from his fingers.

  “But why?” He blinked at her.

  Fury bubbled inside her. Marcus reading those shaming papers was the last straw. It was bad enough she'd have to seek a position as a governess due to her situation, but to have him question her about it was going too far. “I owe you no explanations,” she said in a tone that could freeze water in the desert.

  “I know that,” he said softly. “I just don't understand.”

  “And you don't need to.” She turned to go, but he reached for her wrist to keep her from leaving.

  “You're right, Emma. It's not my place to ask you about your personal life. I'm sorry. But what if I happen to know of someone who is in need of a governess? Can I ask you a few questions then?”

  She stared at him in disbelief. He was the definition of a recluse. She doubted he'd been beyond an hour’s radius of Ridge Water in the past five years.

  “Patrick,” Marcus said after a minute. “Viscount Drakely is in need of a governess for his three girls.”

  She blinked again. She'd nearly forgotten Viscount Drakely. Besides Alex and Caroline, Lord Drakely, or Drake as he was most commonly known to everyone except Marcus, was the only other person Marcus ever saw. Lord Drakely was a decent man, if not a bit withdrawn at times. She’d met him many times over the years, and had even come to think of him as a friend. But that didn’t exactly mean he’d be willing to hire her on as a governess for his little girls.

  “Are you sure?” she asked weakly. The lady at the employment agency hadn't seemed too optimistic about Emma being able to find a position. Drake may not live in the shire, but that didn't matter so much to her. Just now, her desperate need of employment meant she was game to live almost anywhere.

  “I'm fairly certain,” Marcus said. “Currently he doesn't have one at all. He still employs Mrs. Jenkins.”

  Emma shuddered. The woman wasn't awful, but she was a nursemaid, not a governess. Those girls needed the instruction of a governess or they'd never succeed in finding a husband. “Can you ask him?”

  Marcus leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “I can,” he said at last. “Or you can.”

  She shook her head. “No, I can't.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that would be awkward. I cannot walk up to his house, knock on the door, and say, 'Pardon me, Drake, I've noticed your girls lack a suitable governess, would you be interested in hiring me for the job?'”

  Marcus chuckled. “Sure you could. You could say it just like that, and he'd probably hire you on the spot.”

  “Or toss me off his estate,” she muttered.

  “He wouldn't do that. He'd probably hire you for your nerve alone.” He held out his hand. “Can I see the papers again?”

  She clutched them tighter to her chest. “Why?”

  He shrugged. “If I'm to recommend you, I need to know your qualifications.”

  “You know as well as I do that I don't have any.”

  “Sure you do,” he countered, reaching for the papers once more.

  She handed him the papers and sat down. “I'm not qualified,” she said dully, staring at the oak tree just out the window. She wasn't qualified for much of anything, it seemed.

  He ignored her and read over the pages. “Emma,” he began softly, handing her back the leaflets, “is this what you want?”

  Emma's gaze locked with his. What she wanted didn't matter. She had no money and no family to speak of. This was the only option left to her, aside from becoming someone's paid mistress, that is. “Yes.”

  “Then I'll talk to Patrick.”

  “You think he'll hire me?”

  His left shoulder lifted in a lopsided shrug. “I don't know for sure. But I imagine he'd be willing to allow you a few days to act as their governess to see if it would work.”

/>   She couldn't ask for much better than that. “All right. When will you see him again?”

  Marcus drummed his fingers on his knee. “Soon, I expect.”

  Excitement coursed through her. “How soon?”

  He grinned. “How soon is good enough for you?”

  “I don't know.”

  He took out his pocket watch. “Hmm, it's too close to dinnertime to go just now, but what if I send off a messenger and you wait here for his reply?”

  “Of course,” she said quickly before he changed his mind. Drake only lived an hour or so away, and Caroline would be too busy with her house party tonight to care if Emma was late.

  “Excellent. I'll just run to my study and dash off a note.”

  Emma nodded and tried to rack her brain for something she could do to busy herself for the next few hours. Surely Marcus had no intention of keeping her company. “I'll run upstairs and see if there's any mending to be done,” she said, feigning excitement.

  Marcus turned around. “Why?”

  “I need something to do.”

  “And you want to sew?”

  “Well, no, I don't want to.”

  “Then don't. Read a book. Go for a walk. Ride a horse. Take a nap. Do whatever you want, Emma.”

  “Perhaps I'll go for a walk to the creek.”

  “Good choice,” he said, resuming his steps. He reached the doorway and stopped. “There are a couple of poles in the shed if you'd like to fish.”

  “Will you be joining me?” she asked hopefully.

  Chapter 3

  “No, not today,” he said quietly, as disappointment flooded him. He’d love to spend time with her but wasn’t sure if her invitation was issued in earnest or only out of politeness.

  “Just as well,” she said with a sigh. “I'll just go for a walk then.”

  He nodded and left to dash off a somewhat lacking note to Patrick. He wasn't truly planning to arrange for Emma to be the girls’ governess. She might be getting on in years and feel she needed to seek such a position, but she didn't. She was still stunningly beautiful, with her golden blonde hair and emerald green eyes. She could find a husband yet.

  He plopped down into the chair behind his desk and grabbed his quill and piece of parchment. Pondering only a minute, he scribbled a letter to Patrick.

  Patrick,

  She said she'll be available to entertain your girls on Thursday and Friday this week and Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday next.

  Marcus

  Before Emma could unexpectedly come into his study, he folded up the missive and went to the main hall to give it to one of the two liveried footmen he still employed. After Olivia left for America, he'd reduced Ridge Water to a skeleton staff of two footmen, the butler, two maids, the housekeeper, and a temporary cook who was only here until Mrs. Masters could return from Yorkshire. In his stables, he still employed several grooms, one who even acted as a coachman on the rare occasion Marcus decided to go somewhere.

  From the side windows, Marcus glimpsed Emma walking down the path that led to the creek. He longed to go after her. Even though she had the ability to render him speechless, just being with her would be enough. Tea had not gone as planned. The tension between them had been enough to choke a man. He scowled. How would these ten days work if he couldn't think of what to say to her? Returning to his study, he picked up his ledger and made some quick calculations. He hated settling accounts and doing the math involved in running an estate, but for as much as he hated it, it would keep his mind on what it should be on, and off Emma.

  Two hours later, he glanced up at the wall to the clock that had been annoyingly ticking off the seconds like it did every single day. He sighed and shoved to his feet. It was time to go to the drawing room and wait for dinner. With any luck, Cook would have made a better dinner than she had a pot of tea. He cringed at the memory of that tea.

  “How was your walk?” he asked Emma as he entered the drawing room.

  “Nice. Peaceful.” She smiled wistfully. “Marcus, I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to be so short with you.”

  He flicked his wrist. “You couldn't be impolite if you tried.”

  “Nonetheless, it wasn't nice of me to speak to you that way. You've been nothing but kind to me.”

  “Please, forget about it, Emma. We've all been in situations we wish we weren't. If you need help, all you need do is ask.”

  She nodded, and he took a seat across from her, wishing she would confide in him. “You are helping me,” she said a moment later. “The governess position, remember?”

  “Right.” He glanced at the clock on the mantle. “I think Walters should be there by now, or within the next ten minutes at the latest. Perhaps an hour or so after dinner we should know something.”

  Hands folded primly in her lap, Emma blinked at him. “When do you think he'd allow me to start?”

  “Tomorrow,” he said honestly. Tomorrow was Thursday; one of the days he'd told Patrick she'd be willing to watch the girls.

  She bit her lip. “I hope I'm able to organize a lesson tonight. No matter. Between Caroline and Alex, I've learned enough scientific facts the past few days to fill an afternoon if I need to.”

  Marcus chuckled. “Please make sure I am not within earshot when you start your science lecture. I heard enough scientific nonsense from Alex during our years of school together.” He shuddered. Science was a dandy interest for others, just not for him.

  “And don't forget all the knowledge you shoved into your head while copying Caroline's experiments and submitting them to Prominent and Avant-Garde Horticulture,” she teased, a smile spreading across her lips.

  He shuddered again. “Don't remind me. Although, I do feel I need to make a confession about that. When I copied her work, I copied it literally one word at a time. It took forever to look at one word, write it, then glance back at the sheet for the next. But it was much less painful to do that than to read an entire sentence and duplicate it.”

  “It couldn't have been that bad.” Her green eyes were full of mischief. Their utter dislike for the subject of science was one thing they'd always shared. Another had been their ability to disguise their dislike in front of Caroline, who liked science nearly as much as her husband.

  “It was torturous,” he said, scowling. “The first time I copied it, I nearly fell asleep three times while doing that tedious task.”

  Emma giggled. “Then why didn't you just have a servant do it?”

  He blinked at her. Why hadn't he thought of that? For nearly four years he'd made himself miserable copying Caroline's dreadfully boring biology notes. “I have no idea.”

  She shook her head. “It was a nice thing for you to do. I hope you know she really appreciated it.”

  “I know she did,” he said uncomfortably. Praise was something he’d never been fond of accepting. “Tell me, Emma, how long have you been staying with Caroline and Alex?”

  “A while,” she said, dropping her gaze to the floor.

  He sighed. “You're not going to tell me anything, are you?”

  “No.”

  Marcus bit back a grin and ran his hand through his hair. Emma had always been stubborn. She had been the day they met when she was three and he was seven, and she still was now at seven-and-twenty. “It's of no account. I'll just write to Caroline and ask her,” he said as casually as if he were talking about the weather.

  She snorted. “She won't tell you.” Her voice was strong, confident.

  “I think she will. She owes me a favor, you know?”

  Emma shook her head ruefully. “And you'd use your favor asking something as ridiculous as that?”

  Marcus nodded.

  “You're cracked.” A devious grin took her lips. “Anyway, she won't tell you.”

  “And why are you so confident?”

  “Because I know you won't really ask her.”

  He crossed his arms. “What makes you think that?”

  Shrugging, she looked him straight in t
he eye. “You don't care enough about me to bother to ask.”

  You have no idea how wrong you are. “You never know, I just might ask.”

  She frowned at him. “Ask if you wish, but she still won't tell you. Her promise to me trumps any favor you might ask of her.”

  He scowled. Caroline was so loyal it was nearly sickening. “I wager I'll get it out of you yet.”

  “And how do you propose to do that? Withhold Drake's response until I tell you?”

  “If I must,” he agreed. “But that wasn't my first choice.”

  “And what was your first choice?” She licked her red lips in the most innocently seductive way.

  “You'll just have to wait,” he said huskily. “My plan won't work if I tell you what it is.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You're wasting too much energy on something frivolous.”

  “To you, perhaps,” he allowed. “To me, it's not so frivolous.”

  “Why's that?”

  He stretched his legs out and casually crossed his ankles, simultaneously willing the butler to announce dinner before he revealed too much. “I find it curious you're not with Louise and Hampton in London.”

  Emma's long, slender fingers pinched the fabric of her skirt so tightly that when she let it go, she'd left dozens of little creases in her skirt. “I just decided I needed some time away.” Her tone gave nothing away. Unfortunately for her, her stiff body language gave away enough.

  “Emma,” he said slowly, softly. “Does your need for time away have anything to do with your sudden interest in becoming a governess?”

  Her green eyes sparkled, and not in a good way. “Please, leave it alone, Marcus.” Her voice could only be described as a harsh whisper.

  “All right. But please remember if you need anything, you can come to me.” He'd told her as much earlier, but he knew his words had been in vain. He'd have to tell her again and again with the hope that eventually it would take root in that thick head of hers.

  She didn't acknowledge his offer of help, not that he'd expected her to. Instead, she glanced down to inspect the hem of her gown and sat quietly until Chapman came in to announce dinner.