Miss Darling's Indecent Offer

by Cerise DeLand

  “No, my precious.” He sank his fingers into the wet curls at her nape and nuzzled her beneath her ear. If she was becoming shameless, he was becoming enslaved. “I want you with me.” Anywhere. Everywhere I can get you.

  “Where?” she asked, her voice a thread of sound as he sank a finger inside her bodice and caressed her blossoming nipple.

  “London.” Best to tell her the truth as he made her mindless in his arms. He had not planned it this way, but—

  She jumped up. “You cannot be serious.”

  “But I am. We must go to London. You and I.”

  “That was not our plan.” She kneaded her hands. “I can’t go back. Not until I am free.

  That’s three months, Jack, from the time we are married. Three months to tell the lawyers—”

  “Stop this,” he said as he rose and tried to take her in his arms.

  She escaped him, backing her way toward the armoire.

  He followed. “Emma. Listen to me. In two weeks time, we return to London.”

  “No.” She dropped his hands. “I will not go.”

  He advanced on her. “You must.”

  “Why?” She put a hand to her stomach, looking ill, betrayed. She spun away from him. “I should have known this interlude must end,” she chastised herself more than him.

  He whirled her around, hands gripping her shoulders. “No, listen to me! You must return to challenge Pinrose and Trayne.”

  “I will not go, Jack! Daniel will take me, put me away.” She waved him back with a wild gesture of despair. “I will not be locked up again. Ever.”

  “Darling, they will not take you away. I will not let them.”

  “They are mad. You, too, if you think them easily dissuaded!” She began to pace to and fro. “They do not know where I am and—”

  “But they do know, Emma,” he told her with sweet compassion and that made her cry out in alarm. “The whole of London knows. York and Durham, too. Madame Duhamel brought me a scandal sheet yesterday. I could not bear to tell you. I wanted you to be happy. Longer.” Always.

  “They know? So soon?”

  “The gossips are merciless.”

  “Let me see it.”

  “It’s downstairs in my library.”

  She drew herself up, deathly quiet in her determination. “Show me.”

  Minutes later, he handed her the paper, then watched her read the sheet and blanche.

  He took it from her hands. “Emma, believe me. Nothing has changed. I have a plan in motion. You must let me pursue it.”

  “Describe it to me.”

  “It has to do with finances. Pinrose’s.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “And Trayne?”

  “I will dispose of him as well.” Jack continued to tell her how he had bought up all of her stepfather’s and Trayne’s debts from other creditors making the men indebted to him alone. “I have accomplished it, save for three investments. The largest one may escape my grasp, and the other will take some doing.”

  “What are they?”

  “The one I may not be capable of buying is a partnership that speculates on the discovery of gold ore out of Africa. The other, more within my reach, is to fund a new shipping company out of Plymouth. But I will move heaven and earth to buy those loans from the lenders. Trust me.”

  Her gaze, now not quite so desolate, met his. “I do. But I do not wish you to do this at the cost of bankrupting yourself.”

  “I won’t.” But I may come damn close if both projects fail. Jack enfolded her in his arms.

  Stroking her hair, he felt her curl into him. Never had he given succor to a woman. Never had he wanted to.

  A rapping on the door came at a poor time. “Yes?”

  “Milord,” Simmons called to him. “A…ah…visitor, sir.”

  Emma raised her face. Jack kissed her briefly, sweetly. Then brushed her curls from her cheeks. “Go back upstairs. I’ll be up in a few minutes to help you off with this gown.”

  She brightened over that. “Minutes? I hold you to it, milord.”

  “Come.” He looped her arm through his, led her through the door and out into the foyer.

  But there, before them in the far end near the front door stood a man Jack had not seen here in Durham Manor for more than a decade.

  “Wait here, darling.”

  “Who is this?”

  “My father.”

  Chapter Eight

  Drawn by surprise and curiosity, she followed Jack toward the front door.

  “Sir,” she heard him greet his father with a chill that matched the horrid weather. “To what do we owe your unannounced visit?”

  The earl of Stanhope stood, cutting as giant a figure as his son amid the ivory walls and black marble tile of the foyer. He whirled toward Jack, then inclined his head toward her as he slapped his gloves against his thigh. “You should know quite well, my boy.”

  “I have never read your mind, Father.” The men stood face to face. “Enlighten me.”

  Emma approached so near now, she saw the older gentleman clearly.

  “Pinrose and Trayne are my calling card, Jack.”

  Emma froze, staring at the huge stranger in the heavy black travelling cape who glowered at her husband. My God. She would know this man anywhere. The shape of the face, the iron jaw, the brilliant silver eyes, the large muscular frame. The midnight hair etched with white strands. A handsome man. The sire of her husband. The portrait in the drawing room did him no justice at all. John Stanhope, eighth earl, roué of the first water, examined her as if she were on a block for sale. She stood her ground, her chin up, her back straight.

  “I say, Jack,” the older man declared with admiration as he appraised her, “if it is true that you have married this woman, I’d tell you that you have made the finest decision of your life.” He shot his head around to glare at his offspring. “But you have gotten us all in a kettle of hot water, my boy. What the hell were you thinking?” His gaze drifted back to Emma.

  She felt the man’s appraisal as if his eyes delved into her soul.

  “Has he seduced you, my dear, or did you work your wiles on him?”

  Emma glared at him. “Neither.”

  “Really? I see you wear the wedding ring I gave his mother, so I am clearly late for the ceremony. Sad, that. I would have liked… Well, no matter. Will you not introduce me, Jack?

  You might give me that due.”

  Jack strode forward to wrap one arm around her waist and stand with her against the storm of his father’s assault. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Father. Emma Stanhope. The earl.”

  John extended his hand to pick up hers and press a polite kiss to the back. “Honored to meet you, Mrs. Stanhope. Jack, congratulations, I commend you to wed her. She is a beauty.

  Fiery, too, I’ve heard from those I know in London. Bad, that. Brings down the curse, you know.

  Has he told you about the family curse, dear Emma?”

  “He has,” she affirmed at once.

  “Did not deter you, did it?”

  “No.”

  “But then you needed only temporary succor, didn’t you, to rid yourself of Daniel Pinrose and his protégé, Trayne?”

  “I wished it, yes,” she admitted curtly, not knowing how much to reveal to the man whom Jack clearly did not revere.

  Jack growled. “What business is this of yours, Father?”

  “You are, dear boy.” John glanced around the foyer. “Where the hell is Simmons? I need a brandy.”

  “And you need to tell me what the deuce you are doing here,” Jack demanded, anger rife in his features. “You are never invited.”

  “Never welcome at all, so true. Did you know this, my dear new daughter-in-law?”

  “I insist, Father,” Jack intervened with adamance, “tell me why you are come.”

  “Simple, really.” John worked at the buttons on his great coat. “I have come to help you, Jack.”

  Jack’s brows rose a fraction. “Odd. You never have
before!”

  Emma could feel Jack’s body tense as an animal ready for a match.

  “Tut, tut. Jack. No way to treat your father. Don’t you think, Emma?”

  Jack stepped forward. “I do not want you here.”

  Emma considered the taut lines of Jack’s face. What was there between father and son that should cause such enmity? She understood cruelty from Pinrose. She knew indifference from her mother. But this spoke of other causes.

  “I understand that. But if you do not give me the opportunity to tell you why, you and your lovely Emma will be the losers.”

  Jack scowled. “Ten minutes.” He stood aside and extended a hand toward the drawing room. “Then Simmons will call for the coachman to take you back to Stanhope Castle.”

  John strolled around his son and Emma into the drawing room, headed straight for the fireplace. There, he removed his coat, flung it on a chair and pressed his hands behind him. Facing them both, he leveled his fathomless pewter gaze on Jack.

  “I have heard of this elopement from the broadsheets in London. Damned terrible way to learn your eldest and your heir has run off, but we reap the indifference we sow, eh, my boy?

  Yes, well. In the sheets, ‘tis said, madam, that your coachman was sacked by your stepfather. A maid, too, it seems. Both repaired to the editor of a broadsheet who happily printed the story in a gossip sheet. Bad business to be so maligned.”

  Jack scoffed. “Spare us any rhapsodies, Father. You have often been the subject of such broadsheets.”

  “As you have yourself, dear man.”

  Jack inclined his head in sarcasm. “I learned from a master. Continue.”

  “I went round to your youngest brother in Berkeley Square to ask what he knew of your escape, Emma, and your intent to have Jack take you to Gretna Green. Adam knew little but that you, Jack, had gone north. Meanwhile, I was in a tizzy.”

  Jack barked in laughter. “Hard to imagine.”

  “I know, I know,” the earl said with a theatrical sigh and wiggled a few fingers in the air as if throwing dice. “Figure of speech. Oblige me, will you. In any case, at that point, I began to hope, Jack, that you would make for here to hide lovely Emma away from those two scoundrels.

  Thus, I had my man pack a bag and here I am.”

  “To help me,” Jack challenged him.

  “Odd as it may seem, Jack, yes.” He dug inside his frock coat pocket and extracted a long folded set of papers. “You need to ruin Pinrose. Here is your means.”

  Jack eyed the documents from afar as if they were snakes. “I have started my own means to ruin him. Trayne, as well.”

  Emma had watched this verbal match with growing distaste, but now she stepped forward and curled her arm into her husband’s, proud of his action against both of her oppressors.

  “Ah-hah!” The earl put a finger in the air. “But is it enough?”

  “How could you care?” Jack was florid with rage.

  “I do if you mean to ruin yourself and take the family fortune with you!”

  Emma shot a glance at Jack. He’d told her he would remain solvent. Had he distorted the possibility?

  “Money,” Jack spit out.

  “Money has made us all what we are.”

  “Not quite all, Father.”

  “For Christ sake, Jack, I know you resent the hell out of me for allowing nurses and governesses to raise all of you. I cannot change that. But I can regret it!”

  Jack stared at his father as if mountains had crashed down on him.

  John Stanhope cursed blatantly. “Time, I hope, will heal our breach. For now, I see you don’t believe a word I say. Will we stand here all night arguing? Take the papers and read them!”

  Jack snatched them from his father’s hand. Instead of reading, he laid out his plans to his father. “I bought up Pinrose’s debts. I plan to go to London and call them in.”

  “He has no inkling?” the earl mused.

  “I made it a condition of the purchase, at a good interest rate I might add, that his former creditors not tell him I have the paper. They are all friends of mine, as luck would have it. I am in the process of buying up stock of a merchant company that Pinrose wishes to own outright.” Jack examined Emma. “One reason he wants your inheritance, darling, is because he wishes to use your land rents to purchase an option to buy up the majority owners’ stocks once the Army invades France and creates a greater market for merchant vessels.”

  “I thought the rents were what he wanted,” she told him. “They are sizable.”

  “Clever plan, Jack.” His father praised him. “But it is not enough to ruin Daniel.”

  “And why, Father, would you be at all interested in helping me or your newest daughter-in-law be free of that man?”

  John cast a paternal eye on Emma and smiled like an old man proud of his family. “I wish to live differently. I want to be a part of you.”

  Jack’s mouth dropped open.

  The earl ignored his son to say to Emma, “I was a friend of your father. He was one of the finest gentlemen I have ever known. Kind. Honest. Honorable. He died too young.” He turned to admire his son. “I wish to help you save his daughter, Jack. Her reputation. Her inheritance. Her future. ”

  “I still do not understand,” Jack muttered. “All our lives, you have ignored Adam, Wes, Clarice and me, as if we were so much baggage. Then you appear and announce you wish to live differently? Preposterous.”

  “I was wrong.”

  “You think you can buy your way back into my graces?”

  “Money may be my means in this instance. I say one must use the resources one possesses.

  Don’t you?”

  “Of course. Especially if it is the only means you will part with.”

  The older man pursed his lips, rocked on his heels and cleared his throat. “I grow older, Jack. And contrary to what you and your siblings may think of my, shall we call it, lack of paternal regard, I do care for each of you. I hear and read of your triumphs. Adam’s success in Parliament. Wes’s on the fields of Spain. Yours in businesses you are too modest to discuss among your friends. I can see what you have done here to save Emma from this odious man and his little dog, Trayne. I also see every one of my children now married, with charming spouses, and children coming into the family. ”

  Jack looked like the house had fallen on him. “What makes you think you merit that?”

  “Men change, Jack. Surely you know that. I wish to prove my intentions are honorable and true.”

  Emma saw Jack frown, then open the documents. “What are these?”

  “The deeds to Pinrose’s offices in Lombard Street and Emma’s home in Park Lane.”

  Emma was stunned. “How do you have them?”

  “They are mine, dear Emma,” said her father in law. “I purchased them from their former owner, also a good friend of mine, a few days ago.”

  “They must have cost you a fortune,” she marveled.

  “I have money. I use it for good causes,” he informed her with a smug smile.

  Jack continued to read the papers, flipping pages. “Pinrose has no office and no home.”

  “Precisely.”

  Jack stared at his father and the way his features changed seemed like night had become day. “So now that you own these, he has no collateral to use as assurance for the purchase of the merchant company.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Does he know you own these?”

  “No. And he won’t until the directors meet to vote on partners for the company.”

  A beam of joy flashed across Jack’s features. “Wonderful. I want to be at that meeting.”

  “So you shall, my boy. It occurs Friday. At noon.

  “It’s three days ride back to London,” Emma pointed out.

  “Just enough time for Jack and I to return to London if we leave at dawn. What do you say, Jack?”

  The question of her husband’s acceptance hung in the air for a long and perilous moment.

&n
bsp; As if emerging from a dream, Jack stepped to the bell pull, all the while contemplating his father.

  When Simmons appeared, Jack’s gaze did not waiver. “Simmons, have the housekeeper prepare the south bedroom. The earl stays the night with us. And bring us three glasses and the bottle of brandy.”

  * * * *

  Four days later, Jack sat next to this father in the coach to London and pondered for a countless time his loneliness. To be apart from Emma left him with a hollow in his heart. Odd to be so enchanted with a woman whom he’d known mere days. Comforting to know she waited for him out of desire and not mere duty. Unnerving to know that she waited for him in hope that she might be free when he returned. Free to leave him. If she wished. Did she?

  Jack shifted in the coach at the despair that idea engendered. He had long ago decided that he did not wish her to leave him. But how to keep to his promise to help her if he did not divorce her? Shaking his head, he willed himself to leave that worn out topic for another day. He turned to the other obsession that plagued him on this journey. His father.

  If Jack had ever thought his father could be amiable, after almost four days in his company, Jack now wondered he had ever assumed otherwise. The older man was congenial to the point of giddy. As they left Durham Manor, his father became capable of small talk. But as the hours and days wore on, he learned that the man suffered from a sore heart that he had ignored his children. “I closeted myself each time I found a woman I cared for and soon lost to illness or childbirth. True, I would discover a new amour soon. Perhaps far too soon to suit the purviews of Society, but then, the heart does not obey rules. Does it?”

  “How true,” Jack had agreed and fit the words to his own situation.

  His father’s newly declared humility suited his new humanity, his largesse to aid Jack for Emma’s benefit a boon Jack would not soon forget.

  Friday, the two strode into the offices of Hampton and Roe in Threadneedle Street more comfortable with each other than they had ever been. Hampton and Rose were the factors in Plymouth who brokered the new merchant shipping line and Jack and his father agreed to present a united front. Here, they greeted the four original investors milling about in the central office with more than half a dozen other potential investors.