Her Reluctant Groom (Groom Series, BOOK 2)

by Rose Gordon

  “Oh, anything but that.” Emma shook her head. “We may never get to the ceremony if he’s doing that.”

  “Don’t worry,” Alex said. He stretched his long legs out in front of himself and removed his black top hat. “If he insists on doing that, I’ll just suggest for the sake of time he just counts all the tiles going in each direction and multiply them. That should give him a rough idea of how many tiles are in the church.”

  “But what about the missing tiles around where the altar upfront?” Caroline asked as if this topic of conversation was the equivalent of ferreting secrets out of Napoleonic spies.

  “That’s why I said it would give him a rough idea, Caro,” Alex said gently. “If he really must know, he can do as I suggested by finding the number of all the tiles, and then walk around to all the little areas where the tiles are absent or covered and deduct the number that should be there from the whole.”

  Emma leaned her head back and closed her eyes, trying as hard as she could to block out Alex and Caroline’s rather disturbing conversation. To quote Caroline, Good grief! She was about to marry a man obsessed with counting and numbers.

  Barely aware her fists were clenched so tightly the seams of her white satin gloves were about to burst, Emma relaxed her fingers and took a deep breath through her nose. Exhaling, she tried to think of the good things about Wallace. He was…he was…he was…he was nice. Yes, that was a start. He was a nice man. He was also kind. Wait, that’s the same thing. She clenched her hands tightly again. He was something else besides nice, she knew it. He had to be. Everyone had more than one positive attribute to recommend themselves to others.

  Squeezing her eyes even tighter, she desperately tried to think of another adjective for Wallace. What else was he? Boring. That’s what he was. He was boring and bland. Dull, even. She sighed. The undeniable truth was that awful tea Marcus’ temporary cook made was more interesting than Wallace. Drat! Drat! Drat! There she went thinking of dratted Marcus again.

  “Emma, calm down,” Caroline murmured. She picked up one of Emma’s tightened fists and unfurled her fingers. “Wallace will not really insist on counting the petals of all the flowers. Stop scaring her, Alex.”

  Emma’s eyes widened and a little strangled sound from deep in her throat escaped her lips. Though Alex and Caroline might have been jesting, Emma wouldn’t so easily dismiss the idea that Wallace would think to do such a thing.

  “You weren’t even listening, were you?” Caroline asked, cocking her head to the side.

  Shaking her head slightly, Emma just stared at her friend.

  “You were thinking of Marcus, weren’t you?”

  She nodded sadly. “I promise I’ll stop. Right now, I’ll stop. I won’t think of him again.”

  “I’m sure Wallace will be glad to hear that.” Alex picked up his hat from the cushion next to him and with a fluid motion put it on his head. “If you want to cry off, now is the time.”

  The anxiety showing in his face urged Emma to swallow her own unease. Last year, Alex had quite a scare when Caroline was nearly late to the start of her wedding and Alex thought she was jilting him. That was yet another reason she had to go through with her promise to marry Wallace, she didn’t want to force Alex into the uncomfortable position of cleaning up her mess. He didn’t deserve that any more than Wallace deserved to be jilted.

  The carriage came to a jolting stop, or perhaps the jolting of the carriage was caused by Gregory pounding on it, causing it to shake violently. Emma shook her head. That was absolutely the most favorable aspect of marriage to Wallace: she’d no longer have to have contact with Gregory or Louise in any manner if she didn’t wish it. And she didn’t wish it.

  Ever since her engagement was announced those two had been like vultures on the hunt, trying to manipulate Emma for the sake of appearances. Reluctantly, she’d agreed that Gregory could walk her down the aisle. But that was it. She continued to live at Watson Townhouse with Caroline and even allowed Alex to make decisions as if he truly were responsible for her.

  “Come, Emma,” Gregory clipped as soon as the carriage door swung open merely an inch. “We’re to wait in the back chambers until it’s time.

  A chill skated down Emma’s spine at the sight of Gregory’s leer. Biting her lip so as not to make a scene, Emma went to the door of the carriage and warily reached her trembling fingers out to connect with Gregory’s palm.

  As soon as her fingertips made contact with his gloved palm, he curled his fingers around hers in the most painful way she’d ever felt.

  Wincing, she slowly walked down the steps before trying to pull her hand back from Gregory’s vise-like grip.

  Alex was down and helping Caroline descend only seconds later. Caroline walked over to Emma and looped her arm through hers. “Excuse us, Your Grace. I need to have a talk with Emma.”

  Gregory’s sharp eyes impaled Caroline, who, much to Emma’s surprise, stood firm with her chin lifted and confident. Despite herself, Emma smiled. Being married to Alex had given Caroline the starch and polish which growing up being ignored had not. Very quickly, Emma flashed Alex a slim, thankful smile, which he returned with a quizzical look.

  “I’m sure you understand the need for Emma to have some alone time with another woman right before her wedding. We have things to discuss.”

  “Things to discuss?” Gregory echoed coldly. “I’m sure she knows enough about what you mean to ‘discuss’ with her that she could teach you a thing or two.”

  Emma’s face burned. Gregory was right. Emma probably did know far more than Caroline. But that was because she’d read that memoir, not because of the reason Gregory was insinuating. Swallowing her nerves, she steeled her spine and looked Gregory straight in the eye. “Your Grace, I’d like some time with my friend.”

  “And I’d like some time with you.”

  “Whatever for?” she asked irritably. “You made it rather clear to me that you never wanted to see me again that night you tossed me out without anything more than a few coins to my name and a thin scrap of fabric for a wardrobe.”

  “Yes, well, nothing has changed. I still have no desire to see you again after today. But, for today, we shall play nice and give off the impression of a loving family. Now come.”

  Irritation, anger, and even a shred of hatred ran through Emma as she yanked her hand from Gregory’s tight grasp so fast and hard, her glove slipped half of the way off. He didn’t wish to play nice, he had other ideas. Ideas she didn’t even want to think about. “I think not. I’ll spend my time before my wedding alone with Caroline. You can send someone to collect me when it’s time for you to do your final duty and walk me down the aisle.”

  Gregory’s strong hand reached forward to grab her elbow, but just before he was able to close his bruising fingers around it, Alex’s hand reached forward and, using the edge of his hand to hit the inside of Gregory’s wrist, knocked Gregory’s hand away.

  Gregory grimaced and rubbed his wrist. “Very well. I’ll be waiting for the blasted event to start in the back of the church. Don’t dawdle. The sooner you marry that madman, the sooner nobody will associate my grace and title to your debauched ways.”

  Emma gasped at his words. Why did he insist on being so cruel to her? “Have no doubt, Your Grace; I am looking forward to no longer being associated with your lecherous ways just as much as you are looking forward to being rid of me.”

  Sneering, Gregory stalked off.

  “Come, let’s go inside,” Caroline said, flashing a disgusted look at the back of Gregory.

  Together the trio strolled inside. Alex took a seat on the end of a church pew being occupied by some of his cousins while Caroline walked Emma back to her bridal chambers.

  “Were you nervous?” Emma blurted as soon as Caroline shut the door.

  Caroline grinned. “No. Well, yes. But my nervousness was different I suppose. I was afraid Olivia would show up and make one final attempt to ruin my wedding.”

  “Yes, that is reaso
n enough to make anyone nervous,” Emma admitted with a giggle. The night before Caroline’s wedding, Olivia had made ribbons out of Caroline’s dress just to spite her for marrying a man Olivia hadn’t given a fig about. “But as you said, your nervousness was completely different from mine.”

  “Are you nervous about tonight?” Caroline reached forward to tighten the pins holding Emma’s curls in place.

  Shaking her head, Emma tried not to let her expression tell too much. “No. I certainly know what to expect on that score.”

  Caroline’s hands froze, and she cast an amused glance at Emma. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

  “No, I can’t say there is.”

  Chuckling, Caroline raised her brows.

  “It’s not what you think,” Emma said softly. “I found this book…and...I’m sure you get the idea.”

  “You read a naughty book?” Caroline exclaimed, her blue eyes positively alight with laughter.

  Emma shrugged and took a seat. She knew she shouldn’t continue to sit or her dress would wrinkle, but truly, it had probably already wrinkled from the ride. Besides, perhaps it would give Wallace something to count. She nearly snorted at the thought. Adjusting herself on the seat to get more comfortable, she glanced back up at a quizzical Caroline. “To be fair, I only read half of it. But it was enough to know what to expect tonight.”

  “Well, that’s what’s important,” Caroline said in a flippant tone. Smiling, she took a seat close to Emma. “You do know all men are different, and though I have no idea what you read in that naughty little book of yours, nor what you did with Marcus, you cannot expect Wallace will be the same.”

  “I know,” Emma said airily. “Lady Bird explained about how all men are different and each time was a different experience. Some good, some not-so-good, and some, well, some to be remembered for a lifetime.”

  Caroline’s mouth fell open, and Emma did the best she could to stifle her laughter. “And did Lady Bird explain these three different outcomes?”

  “In the greatest detail imaginable.”

  “And just where did you get such a book?”

  “From Marcus.”

  The look that came over Caroline’s face was beyond price. Unfortunately, Emma wasn’t given the chance to shock her further because a series of loud thuds rattled the wooden door.

  “It’s time.” Caroline stood up and offered Emma a quick hug.

  Swallowing convulsively, Emma stood still as Caroline unlocked and opened the door before coming back to her side and giving her shoulder an affectionate squeeze.

  Silently, they left the room and walked down to where Gregory was waiting with the darkest look on his face she’d ever seen..

  “Get going,” he barked at Caroline. “The sooner you get down to your spot, the sooner Emma will be married.”

  Caroline looked like she was about to whack him over the head with her bouquet of white roses, but must have decided he wasn’t worth the bother and walked down the aisle to her spot.

  Now it was time for Emma and Gregory to walk.

  Closing her traitorous eyes so she wouldn’t give into the temptation and glance one last time at the closed doors of the church, Emma rigidly walked forward down the aisle to her immaculate groom.

  Without ceremony, as soon as Emma and Gregory reached Wallace, Gregory disengaged Emma’s arm and placed her hand in Wallace’s with all the love and grace an adder would express to a mouse.

  Mumbling a few words about giving his permission for the match, Gregory walked off, leaving the priest with his mouth opening and shutting as he fruitlessly tried to form words. “We have not gotten to that part yet.” Or so one would presume that’s what his gibberish meant.

  Emma just shook her head. “It’s all right. Now that we all know we have his permission, and dare I say blessing—” she sliced a quick glance at her scowling sister and husband— “we can continue to the vows.”

  “A—a—all right,” the priest stammered. Shifting his Bible from one hand to the other, he said in a loud, even voice, “Does anyone see any reason these two should not be joined together in holy matrimony?”

  Emma held her breath. Now was the time. This was the last time anyone could object. The last time for Caroline or Alex to intervene. The last time Louise or Gregory could try to ruin her life. The last time for Wallace to back out. The last chance she’d have to put a stop to this. The last time Marcus would have a chance to stop the wedding.

  The moment seemed to last forever as the silence engulfed the room. Not a single objection. None from Caroline or Alex, nor Louise and Gregory. Not a sound from Wallace. Not a protest among anyone in the church. And certainly not a word from the absent Marcus.

  “Very well,” the priest said at long last. Opening his Bible, he flipped to the passage he’d marked then started prattling on about love, the meaning of marriage, and whatever else he thought necessary.

  Emma looked up at a very pale Wallace. He appeared to be just as nervous as she felt. His lips were moving and anytime the priest paused, he said a number in the barest whisper.

  To take her mind off her own bit of nerves, she started making a list in her head of what Wallace could possibly be counting just now.

  In the not-so-distant distance, Emma listened as the preacher continue to prattle, occasionally his words breaking her from her concentration and she’d have to start forming her list all over again.

  The minister cleared his throat, and both Emma and Wallace started. She smiled thinly at Wallace, then the minister. But her thin smile froze in place, becoming brittle and forced when she caught sight of the little red book in the man’s hands. It was time to take their vows.

  In what couldn’t possibly be more than a minute from now, she’d officially be his wife, belonging to him, and only him, for the rest of her life. She forced herself to stand up straighter and willed her lungs to keep breathing as the vicar turned to talk to Wallace.

  “Wilt thee, Sir Wallace George Benedict; take this woman, Emmaline Harriet Green, to be thy wedded wife, to live together after God’s ordinance in the holy estate of Matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honor and keep her, in sickness and in health: and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto her so long as ye both shall live?”

  Wallace’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed then parted his lips far enough to slip his tongue through and lick his dry lips, “I—”

  “No,” boomed a loud voice as the two wooden doors in the back of the church swung on their hinges with enough force to make them collide with the wall, resulting in a noise that resembled a clap of thunder. “He doesn’t, but I do.”

  Chapter 24

  Marcus struggled to choke down the nauseating sensation that was quickly spreading from the pit of his stomach throughout the rest of his body. He hated groups of people. Especially when they were all focused on him. And no doubt about it, they were all looking at him.

  Willing his disobedient heart to stop hammering in his chest, he started walking down the aisle toward Emma, trying fruitlessly to ignore the gasps and whispers as he went.

  Only five or six feet from her, Hampton jumped to his feet. “What’s the meaning of this, Sinclair?”

  Marcus ignored him. He had no desire to talk to Hampton; he’d come for Emma. These five weeks of being separated from her had been the hardest weeks of his life. He had no idea how he hadn’t gone mad, but somehow he hadn’t. He knew now what he must do: he must claim her as his. He loved her more than anything, and somewhere deep down he had finally begun to believe their love for each other would be enough. She’d said she loved him despite his inability to make her a mother, and though he hadn’t believed her then, he believed her now.

  “Emma,” he said hoarsely, searching her vivid green eyes for any signs that she may still love him and call off this sham of a marriage to Sir Wallace.

  Emma blinked at him. The look in her eyes was uncertain, scared even.

  Impulsively, Marcus reached his shaking
fingers up and pushed a wisp of hair that had fallen across her forehead back behind her ear. “Emma, I’m sorry,” he whispered unevenly. “I shouldn’t have done this to you…” His words died off as his face flushed with unease, embarrassment, and even shame. He cleared his throat. Then again. “I’m ready now,” he said softly.

  “Ready for what?” He almost didn’t recognize that cold, brittle voice as belonging to Emma.

  Pushing past his uncertainty at the chilling look in her eyes that matched the tone and meaning of her words, Marcus said, “I’m ready to be the man I should have been. I’m ready to marry you now, Emma.”

  “How convenient of you,” she said, blinking away what looked oddly like tears. “Now that I’m taking vows to another man, you’re suddenly ready to marry me.”

  Marcus’ hands clenched as he glanced over to that other man she spoke of. He’d never seen Sir Wallace in person, but he’d heard enough to know he’d have recognized this unusual, but also very handsome man anywhere. “It’s not too late.” Marcus turned his gaze back to Emma.

  “Yes, it is. Just as I warned you not to, you waited too long.”

  Marcus shook his head. “No, I haven’t. The groom takes his vows first, and he hasn’t.”

  Emma pursed her lips and looked at him with one of the saddest expressions he’d ever seen. “That doesn’t matter any longer. You’ve missed your chance, Marcus. I’ve made a promise and I cannot break it.”

  Marcus exhaled. “What do you want? Do you want to marry Sir Wallace or me?”

  “Don’t,” she snapped. “Don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what? It’s a simple question. Just answer it.”

  A tear slipped out of her eye, and she took one of her gloved hands from Sir Wallace’s grasp to wipe it away. “You cannot expect me to answer such a question. Not now. It’s too late, Marcus. I’m going to marry Sir Wallace.”

  Marcus closed his eyes. He’d gotten here too late. He should have ridden his horse faster. He still would have missed being able to speak to her at Watson Townhouse yesterday, but he could have confronted her about this in her bridal chamber. Instead, he’d put her in an awkward situation by having all these onlookers privy to their discussion. Perhaps if he could get her to agree to talk to him privately, she’d let go of her stubbornness about having made a promise to Sir Wallace and agree to marry him. “Can we talk in private?”