Let the Lady Decide

by Gemma Blackwood

  "We both know she'll have me take a maid out as well. Just in case the two of us are caught flirting! Well, Mr Marsden –" She paused to assume a dramatic pose. "I'm afraid I am not for the likes of you."

  "When you are an old married woman, we'll be able to spend as much time together as you like, with nobody batting an eye," said James. That was another constraint on Alice's life which he did not envy. Married women had so much more freedom than singletons!

  For Alice's sake, he hoped she found the man to match her soon.

  As he stepped out from the wrought-iron gates of Amberley House, he had to restrain himself from turning towards the Duke of Rawly's residence. Something in his chest tugged him in that direction, even as his feet walked towards Seven Dials.

  It was a ridiculous notion. He wasn't sure he'd even be admitted if Jacob wasn't there. Besides, Emily would very likely have left already for her drive with Viscount Tilbury.

  James swallowed unwarranted anger at the thought. It wasn't as if he had any right to ask Emily for a drive himself. He only had his brother's carriage, for one thing. The Duke would probably laugh him out of the building.

  Mrs Wrenn lived on the ground floor of a tiny lodging house. It was close enough to the river to be damp, and deep enough in Seven Dials that James could not shrug off the sense of oppression from the lowering buildings on either side as he knocked at her door. She answered it herself. Servants were an extravagance of the past for Mrs Wrenn.

  "Well, well," she said, boldly raising an eyebrow when she saw who was standing in her doorway. "If it isn't Mr James Marsden, rake about town, finding a moment or two for a poor widow between his balls and breakfasts with Duchesses."

  James laughed and shook her hand warmly. "You'll be surprised to hear how close to the truth you are! My dear Mrs Wrenn."

  "Come in, come in. I'll see if I can fit you in among all my other gentleman-callers."

  It was a hollow joke. James knew that Mrs Wrenn had been forgotten by almost all her former friends. And Society thought him shallow!

  She was so pale in her black bonnet that he had half a mind to drag her out into the sunshine and bring some colour back into her face. Susan Wrenn had married young and had been widowed not much older. It broke James's heart to see her reduced to such pitiful circumstances.

  "You told me in your letter that things were bad," he said, once they had passed through all the usual pleasantries. Mrs Wrenn could not afford tea, so she had furnished him with a glass of water which he accepted with thanks. "Tell me, have you heard from your husband's executors since you last wrote? I refuse to believe that Andrew willingly left you in this state."

  Mrs Wrenn pressed a hand to her chest. "Must we talk about these things? I had hoped you were coming to bring me some sunshine. Tell me some happy, frivolous news. Something about a wedding, something about a christening, something about new light in the world. I feel so wretched when I think of my situation – when I think of my loving Andrew – that I can hardly speak of it."

  "It will not resolve itself with silence," said James. "I hate to give you pain, but I must insist you tell me everything you can. I mean to help you."

  "Then speak of happy things."

  "That would only be a temporary ease."

  Tears lit up Mrs Wrenn's eyes. "All my pleasures now are too fleeting. I cannot hope for anything more substantial. My situation –" She stopped to swallow a sob. "My situation is as bad as it can be. I do not tell you this to ask for charity. It is the simple fact. I have heard from Andrew's executors, and the income from his estate is absolutely nothing. He left his affairs in a terrible state. I cannot believe it either, but the facts are plain."

  "Have you seen the accounts for yourself?" James remembered his friend. It was difficult, at first, to push aside the image of the young man's coffin as it was lowered into the ground – but beyond that, further in the past, rose the image of a strong, sensible, cheerful man who had never given any indication of being in debt. Andrew had been brave, smart and honest. James could not believe he left his wife so ill-provided for.

  "I've seen nothing. Not that I think I'd be able to make head or tail of them if I did."

  "The lawyer I have engaged will be able to tell you the whole story."

  "Oh, Mr Marsden," she sighed. "You are very good to have such faith. But I'm afraid there's no more story to tell. Only the silly story of a young girl who fell in love and ran away to Gretna Green – and so forfeited her chance of a dowry."

  "But you did it for love," said James. Mrs Wrenn smiled the first genuine smile he'd seen from her. James felt a strange pang to see the way even the memory of love made her glow from within.

  He had never experienced that emotion. He had never even touched it – in fact, he had actively avoided it.

  Surely seeing the pain his friend suffered should only bolster that decision?

  Why did James feel yearning begin in his heart, when he was convinced that love brought nothing but sorrow?

  "If only love could feed me," said Mrs Wrenn wistfully. "I'd have a banquet every night."

  "I can lend you a little more money," said James, reaching for his purse. "No, please don't refuse it. You know the good fortune which has come to my family. I'm afraid I've had to tell my brother about your situation. He's very happy to help you. He remembers Andrew, too."

  "You are so kind." Mrs Wrenn bit down on her trembling lip. "I never thought I'd have to rely on kindness!"

  "Soon, we'll have this matter fixed for you, and you can rely on your own income," said James. "Now, tell me – have you written to your family as I suggested?"

  Mrs Wrenn arched a brow. "It had the results we anticipated. My father does not have a large income, it's true, but in any case, he washed his hands of me when I ran away to get married. At least I know that, no matter how poor I become, I am still happier than I would be if I'd agreed to marry his choice. No, there's nothing coming for me from that direction."

  "I've had my share of family troubles," said James, his mind brushing for a moment against the painful memories of his father. "But I can't imagine ever cutting off a family member in that cruel way."

  Mrs Wrenn's eyes softened, and she gently touched his arm. "You are blessed, my dear Mr Marsden. Never forget how lucky you are."

  "I never will." James squeezed her hand. "More than that, I intend to use my good fortune to help you. Tell me, are there no other relations who might be persuaded to give you an annuity? Perhaps on Andrew's side. I should be very embarrassed, if I were the executor of a man's will, to leave his widow penniless."

  "There is only his cousin, Viscount Tilbury," said Mrs Wrenn stiffly. "And the less said about him the better."

  "Tilbury!" James could not conceal his surprise.

  "Do you know him?"

  "I – no, not well. We both attended the same dinner party last night." James stammered a little over his response. It was too much! Here he was, struggling to suppress the imaginary vision of Viscount Tilbury stroking Emily's pale cheek as they drove through dappled sunshine - and who should come up in conversation but the Viscount himself! A mixture of shock and, surprisingly, jealousy threatened to silence him.

  "A dinner party?" Mrs Wrenn repeated, curious. The effect the Viscount's name had on James was undeniable. There was no point trying to hide it.

  "He is courting a young lady of my acquaintance," said James.

  "Ah." Mrs Wrenn nodded, as though the mention of a lady made perfect sense of his reaction. Abashed, James strode to the window. There was not much of a view, but it was better than letting his friend see all his confusion.

  "Her happiness is a deep concern of mine." That was as close as he could come to the truth of what he was feeling. That was all, wasn't it? Emily had placed her trust in him – and he had pushed her towards the Viscount. The twisting sensation in his stomach was only because Mrs Wrenn made him suspect that Tilbury was less honourable than he seemed.

  "I must admit that I suspect Viscou
nt Tilbury is more than capable of giving me an annuity, since there is no money in Andrew's estates," said Mrs Wrenn. James turned to her with horror in his eyes, which she misinterpreted. "I do not wish to speak ill of your friend –"

  "He is not my friend." James seized her hands imploringly. "Please, I cannot allow the young lady in question to accept court from a rogue. Tell me all that you know of Tilbury's character."

  Mrs Wrenn pursed her lips. "You are certain I will not offend?"

  "I beg you to speak frankly."

  "Then I am sorry to tell you that I do not have a good opinion of the Viscount at all, for all that he is my Andrew's cousin. It seems all the goodness went to only one side of the family. I have only met the Viscount once or twice, but I heard a good deal of his private business from Andrew. During our marriage, the Viscount caused his family a great deal of distress. He was known for paying his servants poorly, for refusing to honour his debts, and for treating women..." She trailed off. "Not as they should be treated. In fact, while his poor father was alive, Tilbury was forbidden from being alone with any member of the fairer sex – maids, dowagers, married women alike. Do I need to say more? I would not recommend him to anyone's friend." She studied James's tortured expression. "Particularly not a friend who was so very dear to me as this young lady appears to be to you. I certainly hope, at the least, that her parents have the sense not to let her alone with him."

  "Please forgive me," said James, taking up his hat and coat in a rush. "I'm afraid there is not a moment to spare. I have done something very unwise."

  He left the surprised Mrs Wrenn sitting open-mouthed in her poky drawing room.

  Why had he left the carriage at home? He needed nothing more now than a fast horse!

  The vision of Emily and the Viscount together had taken a darker turn. James pictured black-gloved hands roaming about her person, taking liberties he was sure she would not want to give. He pictured the gasp of horror ripping from Emily's throat as she understood the Viscount's intentions.

  He had pushed her towards him on the basis of some silly girls' infatuation. She had asked him to research her suitors, to pay careful attention, and he had failed. It was unforgivable.

  James only hoped he could reach the courting pair in time to save her.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Emily had to admit she was enjoying her drive with the Viscount immensely.

  It seemed that half of London had come out to drive along Rotten Row. She had seen so many of her acquaintances that she felt quite the most popular young Miss in town. No less a source of satisfaction were the looks of admiration and envy the other young ladies sent her way when they saw her sitting beside the Viscount in his shiny new curricle.

  Emily usually thought of pride as a sin. She avoided thinking too well of herself, and whenever she was praised for an accomplishment, she strove to think of her role models to push herself to do still better. It was a certainty that there was always someone, somewhere, who had done better than she.

  But perhaps, on this fine summer's day, behind this sprightly team of horses – just perhaps – there was no-one who made a better partner for the man known as the handsomest in London.

  Emily only hoped that her smile was not too self-congratulatory as she waved to some friends of her father's in a passing carriage.

  Her heart was full of the joys of summer and the knowledge that everyone could see she was having the most glorious first Season she could have hoped for. She felt so happy and relaxed that she did not even notice when the Viscount turned his curricle off the main path and down a side road into a secluded glade. In fact, she was glad of the shade.

  "Tell me, my dear lady," said the Viscount, leaning back so that he could appreciate her figure. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

  "Very much." Emily tried to contain her enthusiasm. It was only her second ride out with a gentleman after her disappointing experience with the Earl of Corden, and she didn't know quite how to behave.

  "I hope you find the carriage comfortable," said Tilbury, stretching an arm up in the air and placing it around her shoulders. Emily leaned forwards a little, trying not to let him touch her. She was no expert, but she was certain that such liberties ought only to be taken by couples who were already engaged.

  "It's lovely," she said. "And such a fine team of horses! You have quite the most beautiful ride in Hyde Park."

  "It came at some expense," Tilbury admitted. "But I have lately received a fortunate inheritance. My estates in Berkshire can support as many carriages and other fine things as I could wish for." He stroked his fingers over the skin of Emily's bare arm. She jumped, and tried to pretend she hadn't. "I am telling you this because I want you to know I am not chasing after your fortune, my dear girl," Tilbury continued.

  "That is...good to know." In fact, Emily thought it rather crass that he had mentioned it at all. She didn't care a bit for her future husband's fortune; she would have quite enough to support them both, if needed.

  What was important was that he cared for her. And it was becoming increasingly obvious that, in one way or another, Tilbury cared - perhaps a little too much.

  "No, there is something else I want – nay, need from you," he murmured, leaning altogether too close to Emily's ear. "From the moment I saw you, all I could think about was your beauty."

  Now she was trapped – his hand on one side, his murmuring mouth on the other! Emily shifted awkwardly and thought how lucky she was that they had taken this turn to a secluded part of the park. She would not want anyone she knew to see her being taken advantage of in this way.

  "My lord," she said, as firmly as possible, "you are taking far too many liberties with my person."

  "Do you like it?" he breathed, stroking her arm again.

  Emily sought for a polite answer, although she was beginning to understand that mere politeness might not be enough to dissuade him. "It is immaterial whether I like it or not." She was not quite bold enough to tell him how much it disturbed her. "It is not appropriate. Please, remove your hand from my arm."

  Instead, he clutched her closer against him, pressing her against his chest. Emily tried to pull away and came up against a strength in his arm like an iron bar.

  "You will grow to like it," the Viscount smiled. "I promise you."

  "Unhand me!" Emily snapped. She tried to breathe steadily and quell her thumping heart. She would rather die than let him know how afraid she was.

  "On one condition," said the Viscount. He was still speaking in low, soothing tones. The tones of love. Was there something wrong with her, Emily wondered, that she did not enjoy it? What would Sarah or Harriet do in her place? Shouldn't she have been dreaming of a kiss from his handsome lips?

  "There is no proper condition you can reasonably ask of me," said Emily stiffly. Still, the Viscount pressed her against him.

  "One kiss," he groaned. "One kiss, and I'll set you free. Have you been kissed before, my little dove? Let me teach you what kissing is."

  "But I do not want to!"

  The Viscount laughed. "Very few well-brought-up ladies ever want to. Not at first. Allow me to show you the pleasures you've been denying yourself."

  "Absolutely not," said Emily. She heard her own voice tremble with fear and wished she were braver. Wished she were as strong as a man, and able to fight him off as she wanted to. "Believe me when I say I would take no pleasure at all in kissing a man like you! Touch me again and I shall scream."

  "We'll see about that," said the Viscount. To her horror, he stretched his neck forwards and brought his lips towards hers. At the last moment, Emily wriggled an arm free and pushed him away.

  She thought that would be an end to it. But the Viscount only laughed again.

  "You like to struggle, do you?" he asked. Emily realised she had no other option.

  She took a deep breath and let out a piercing shriek.

  The Viscount let her go immediately. "Now, see what you've done, you silly girl," he growled. "We'll have to move o
n somewhere else."

  He took up the reins and stirred up his team into a brisk walk. Emily gripped the side of the curricle.

  "Stop at once!" she demanded. "I want to get out!"

  The Viscount's lip curled cruelly. "I can't let you walk home, my lady." He shouted to the horses and drove them into a canter.

  Still gripping the edge, Emily got to her feet and gathered up the slim red box she had beside her. "I'll jump out before I let you take me home!" she declared. Below her, the ground went by at a tremendous pace.

  Did she dare jump? She might break an ankle – but that was better than betraying her virtue with this awful man. Emily lifted her skirts, hoisted a leg over the edge of the carriage, and tried to persuade herself she was brave enough to let go.

  "Stop that!" shouted the Viscount. "You'll turn the carriage over, you stupid girl!"

  "Good," Emily retorted. "Perhaps wrecking your lovely new carriage will help you take me seriously!"

  Tilbury cursed and slowed his horses to a walk. Emily struggled to keep her balance, half in and half out of the curricle. She prayed that no-one would pass by and see her in such an indelicate position.

  Her hopes were dashed by the approaching thunder of running feet.

  "Lady Emily!" called a desperate voice. "Don't do it! Don't jump!"

  The Viscount seized Emily by the arm and dragged her back onto the seat. She fell in an ungainly heap over his lap. As she tumbled, the red box fell from her hands. She clutched after it with a shout of dismay.

  "Nothing to worry about!" he called. He sounded so pleasant and cheerful that Emily despaired, knowing the running man must believe him. "Her ladyship almost took a tumble, but all's well now!"

  "Lady Emily!" As the Viscount spurred his horses on to a faster pace, the man appeared at the side of the carriage, running as fast as any footman.

  Emily's heart leapt inside her. It was James Marsden.

  "Stay where you are!" James called to her. "Tilbury, you'll stop this carriage this instant or I'll see you at dawn!"