It was an awkward moment. James was kind, and of the right station, exactly her sort of man—but her heart beat slowly and each breath came calm and unhurried. None of the breathless excitement Stephen inspired in her.
But perhaps that was exactly as it should be. Perhaps she needed a man who did not make her heart flutter with anticipation. Perhaps what she needed was idle chatter and kind, calming smiles.
“Would you do me a service?” She pulled the letter and marriage license from her bodice and held it out to James. “Will you see that this is returned to Lord Devon’s study? It’s of a confidential nature. ”
His gaze flicked to the bundle as he took it, then he looked back up at her. “Yes, of course, but if it is of such importance, then surely you would wish to return it yourself.”
“I am not on the best of terms with Lord Devon,” she said, continuing to walk. He tucked the bundle into his jacket pocket and fell into step beside her. “And it has been…distressing, to say the very least,” she finished.
“He is no gentleman to have abused you so abominably.”
A soft breeze drifted over them, ruffling his dark hair. He was strikingly handsome. Why didn’t she feel even the slightest stirring of desire? What was wrong with her?
“Emily,” he said, stopping again. “I have a house in Salisbury. When my mother and father died, it was left to me. We could go there, you and I, and we could start anew. There’s a great house nearby and I am acquainted with the family. I could find work.”
She glanced down at her hands. “If I didn’t know better, I would say you are making me an offer of marriage.”
“Would that be so difficult to believe?” he asked.
After what had transpired with Stephen, she never thought she would agree to shackle herself to another man, any man. But James’s offer would legitimize her child. He would not be born a bastard and he would have the benefit of a father’s care and attention. Was that not worth considering? But in all fairness, she must confide everything.
“James, there is something you must know.” Emily swallowed, anticipating the disappointment she would see in his eyes. “I am with child and Lord Devon is—” She inhaled sharply “—the child is his.”
He blinked down at her and she steeled herself for his shock and dejection. It didn’t come. “Yes, I know,” he said. “The staff below stairs rarely speaks of anything else.”
She blinked. “Oh.”
Why was she so astonished? The maids and footmen of any great house often knew things far in advance of the family. She just had not anticipated being an item of gossip, she supposed. She’d never been significant enough.
“I am not troubled by it,” he said.
“Oh.”
They passed the rest of their walk in silence, before they circled back around to the house. James walked Emily up to her room. As she reached for the door, he grasped both her shoulders and pulled her toward him gently. She didn’t resist.
“May I kiss you?” he asked.
At this distance, she could smell mint on his breath and she could see the faint shadow of stubble on his chin.
“I, um…” She shook her head. Why was she hesitating? “What I meant to say was, yes, of course you may kiss me.”
He smiled and he leaned down to kiss her. His mouth felt soft as his lips moved gently over hers. It was nice, gentle, and utterly unmoving.
The sound of footsteps thundering down the corridor echoed in the silence. Then, of a sudden, she heard a growl—like that of a bear, or a large displeased wolf. She’d never heard a wolf growl, but she imagined that is how it would sound. Terrifying.
Abruptly, she pulled out of James’s embrace and turned toward the source of the sound.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Lord Devon. What are you doing here?”
He stood there, legs spread with his massive frame silhouetted against the candlelit corridor “I must speak with you, but I see I have interrupted something.”
On the surface, his words were casual, unaffected. But beneath the façade, she could hear a hard note of anger.
James came to immediate attention. “We were just returning from our evening walk, my lord.”
“Is that all?” he asked darkly.
James bowed stiffly. “My lord.”
“Leave us,” Stephen ordered.
James’s gaze darted to Emily, as though he were trying to gauge her reaction to Stephen’s command. Emily nodded as subtly as she could manage, but Stephen took notice, his gaze catching hers. Of course he had noticed. He missed very little.
“Yes, my lord,” James said reluctantly.
Stephen waited until James was halfway down the corridor before turning to her. “The footman again. I thought I made it clear you were not to see him again.” Every word was drawn out painfully, as though he were attempting—and failing—to reign in his temper.
“And I thought I had made it clear that I did not care for your opinion.” She wouldn’t lower herself by defending her actions. She had done nothing wrong. She owed Stephen no explanation.
His eyelids were reduced to slits. “He is an accomplice to your scheming, no doubt.”
“My scheming? What in heaven’s name are you talking about?”
“You are spying for the Duke,” he said coldly.
“What?” She was sure the horror she felt was reflected on her face. “Why would you believe such a thing?”
“Just this afternoon, you attempted to blackmail me and this evening, I discover your former employer is brining charges against my father. Clearly you are collaborating.” He pierced her with a harsh stare. “Tell me, what is he giving you in return? The small fortune you did not get from me?”
His accusation was like a lance to the heart. He made her sound so cruel and cunning, as though she had planned this from the very
“This is not a game, Emily,” he shouted. “This is my livelihood, my family’s reputation.”
“And what of my livelihood?” She shook her head. “I had convinced myself that you were unlike the other spoiled, selfish members of the Ton. I was clearly mistaken.”
“You think this is merely selfishness? What of our child, Emily?” When she began to move away, he reached out and grabbed her arm, squeezing tightly. “What benefit could she possibly receive from a father who has nothing to offer her?”
Fury ignited in her chest. “You dare to use our child as a justification for denying me the opportunity build a life for myself.”
With clipped, angry movements, he opened his wallet. “If you are so desperate to leave, here.” He slapped an envelope down on the round table. “Take it and go.” Then he stormed out the door without looking back.
As the door slammed shut, his angry words echoed in her head. She sank to the floor and loud, ugly sobs were ripped from her throat. He was a selfish, unfeeling cur. He didn’t deserve her tears and yet…her heart felt as though it were being violently wrenched from her chest.
Take it and leave.
She should be exultant. She had gotten exactly what she had wished. Freedom. Independence. So why did she feel as though she wanted to chase after him and beg his forgiveness?
She shook her head. She must be strong. This was not a fairytale. A mouse did not fall in love with a lion and expect a happy ending. It had been an impossible union from the start.
It was late when Bess came in to help Emily undress for bed. Her gaze alighted on Emily lying on the floor and she rushed forward.
“Miss, whatever is the matter? Are you ill? I will get Lord Devon—”
“No,” Emily said quickly. “No, thank you.”
Emily pealed herself off the floor and stood, wiping at her tears. She drew in a trembling breath.
“What has happened?” Bess asked, all concern.
Emily shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. I must leave tonight. Will you help me gather my things?”
Bess’s eyes went wide in disbelief. “It is nearly half past ten o’clock, miss
. Surely whatever calls you away so quickly can be addressed in the morning. You will not lose but a few hours.”
Emily shook her head again. She could not countenance remaining in this house a moment longer. “I must leave now. Will you call the footman, James, to me? I should wish to see him before I go.”
“Yes, miss, at once.” With a quick curtsey, Bess left to find James.
Straightening her shoulders, Emily walked to the wardrobe and began tossing her belongings into her cloth bag. She had precious few possessions to her name, so it only took seconds to gather everything.
Then she walked to the table and opened the envelope Stephen had thrown down. Inside was a banknote for one thousand pounds, made out to Emily. She blinked down at the amount in astonishment. She had never seen so many zeros in her life and she likely never would again.
How long had he been carrying this on his person? Doubtless, before their quarrel, he had intended to use the money as an inducement for her to remain in London as his mistress. She clenched her teeth. If she were in a position to throw this money back in his face, she would have done. But life had taught her the hard lesson of practicality. There was no room in her situation for pride or conceit.
Tucking the banknote back into the envelope, she shoved the bundle into her bodice.
Bess entered with James, then left them alone.
James bowed, looking up at her expectantly as he straightened. “Bess said you required an audience with me.”
“Thank you, James. I called you here, because I have considered your proposal—” She bit her bottom lip, anxiety forming a hot ball in her chest. “—and I think Salisbury will suit very well indeed.”
Stephen did not sleep at all.
He sat fully clothed in front of the fire and stared, unseeing, into the flames. He was officially engaged to Miss Westgate now. At the Pembroke’s, when the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies in the parlor, he had made the announcement.
It was done.
There was no going back, no un-ringing that damned bell. He would be married to Miss Westgate within the month and his life, such as it was, would be set back to rights.
No, that was a lie. Nothing could be set back to rights. Suspicion now clouded his name, his legacy. Even if Judge Addams managed to successfully obstruct the case against Stephen’s father, one question would still haunt him—was the marriage certificate real, or had the Duke manufactured it? And what role had Emily played in the plot against him?
His chest tightened at the thought of her taking part in the treachery against him. He had thought she was so unlike the ladies of his acquaintance. He had been wrong. Again. He had been wrong about Lady Evelyn, and he had been wrong about Emily.
There was a knock at his door.
It must have been early the next morning. He didn’t know, didn’t care what time it was, but the fire had dwindled to nearly nothing and thin slivers of sunlight had crept in through a crack in the curtains.
“Come in,” he called out tonelessly.
The door opened and then closed. He didn’t turn around to see who it was. They would make themselves known eventually, or not. He cared little.
“Stephen, have you not slept?” It was his mother’s voice, lit with concern. She must have seen his untouched bed.
“I have not,” he answered.
She came around to sit in the chair next to him. She wore a furlined wrap, her chestnut hair pulled up into a knot. She looked much better than she had been, more rested.
“You are engaged.”
“I am,” he answered with no amount of joy.
“My maid told me only this morning. Why did you not inform me yourself?”
He shrugged. “You knew I intended to offer for her.”
She nodded toward the hearth. “Your fire is burning low.”
Stephen sighed. He could tolerate a low-burning fire, but he would not have his mother catching a chill. He rose and placed another log on the fire, crouching to stoke the flames with the iron poker.
“Stephen, do you believe me ignorant of our circumstances?”
Still crouched, he twisted to look up at her. “I don’t follow.”
She inhaled slowly. “I know what they say about your father. I know what rumors have been bandied about.”
He stood and stared down at his mother. “You know about the rumors of bigamy?”
“Yes.” She looked calm, unconcerned. “My maid has been keeping me informed.”
Yes, of course, he thought bitterly. The all-seeing, all-hearing servants.
He returned to his chair and looked his mother straight in the eye. His gut clenched impossibly tight. “Is it true, am I a bastard?”
She fell silent, her gaze fixed on the flames. Yes, you are. She didn’t need to say it, the answer was painfully clear.
Hot, potent anger slammed into him. “And you did not think to tell me?” he said, furious.
“To what purpose? You could do nothing to alter your circumstances. None of us could.”
How could his parents have kept something to vital from him? The betrayal cut him deeper than any injury the Duke could have inflicted.
“I am a bastard,” he bit out.
“You are an earl’s son and that cannot be taken from you.”
He stood and paced. “Why have you said nothing in all this time? All my life, you have allowed me to believe—” Christ. He raked his hand through his hair.
“I could see no benefit in telling you. What could be done? Nothing.” Her eyes watered, but she kept her countenance. “I only wished to protect you.”
“Protect me?” His humorless laugh filled the room. “I have been the subject of gossip and speculation for months. My livelihood is threatened, even as we speak. The House of Lords intends to bring charges against my father.”
His mother was calm, far too calm. “It is precisely why I suggested Miss Westgate as a match. I knew her connection to Judge Addams would offer the protection you required.”
He blinked at his mother. He had thought courting Miss Westgate had been his idea, but when he cast his mind back, he remembered his mother had been first to mention her name. How very cunning.
He titled his head back and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was all too much. “The woman father married, who is she?”
“Some low-born woman, I don’t know. He was young and he fancied himself in love. When his father discovered the union, he quickly shipped her to Ireland with a small fortune and a warning never to speak of the union.”
“You knew this, but you married him anyway.”
She shook her head. “Your father confessed it to me only after you were born. By then, it was much too late. The woman, whoever she was, had no children, so it became easier to pretend the issue did not exist. I never imagined you or anyone else would ever discover the truth.”
Stephen pushed out a heavy breath. These past months, he had been trying to protect her from this, and all the while, she had been an abettor to his father’s duplicity.
“As it happens, I also know about the maid who is with child,” she said.
Dear God. Would there be no end to this morning’s revelations?
“Do you think I have no idea what happens beneath my own roof?” she continued.
“Very well, what is it you wish to know? Yes, there is a maid, and yes she is with child.” He stood and poured himself a brandy, then pounded it back before fixing himself another. “What does she have to do with anything?”
“I saw you looking at her the night your father escaped his chamber. You love her.”
He turned and looked at his mother. He wanted to deny it, but the words caught in his throat. “It doesn’t signify. She tried to blackmail me.”
His mother sighed. “Doubtless, you had put her in an impossible situation.”
Christ, his own mother. “You condone her methods, then?”
“Not by any means. I am merely suggesting that you attempt to view things from her perspective.”
He scoffed at that. She wanted to empty his purse. That was her perspective.
And, yet, even as he thought the words, he knew they weren’t true. She had only ever asked him for a loan. It wasn’t until she had overheard his conversation with Grant that she had turned on him.
“It is all for nothing. She has already refused to remain in London as my mistress.”
“Then make her your wife.”
He stared at his mother for a long moment. “What? You would have me forfeit my title?”
“No,” she said, standing. “But I would not have you living in regret as your father has been. He married me while he was still in love with another woman and we both suffered for it. I often wonder how much happier he might have been had he ignored his father and remained married to his first wife.” She took a breath. “Besides, your fiancé is in love with someone else.”
That took him aback. “Miss Westgate? With whom?”
“Her companion, Miss Pearce. And I do believe Miss Pearce is also madly in love with her.”
He shook his head. “You have been too long deprived of sleep, Mother. You know not of what you speak.”
“I know exactly of what I speak—I have been living with this fear, this uncertainty that your father will always love another woman and I do not wish that for you. You are my only son, my only child, and my wish is for you to be happy.”
Stephen swallowed at the emotion in her voice. It was true; his parents had not always been so civil. It was only in recent years that they had become closer. Did he truly want that life with Miss Westgate?
He cleared his throat, clearing away the lump that had formed there. “I cannot forfeit my birthright.”
“Then it sounds to me like you have already made your choice,” she replied.
Yes, he had. He accepted what he must do.
So why, then, did his heart feel so hallow?
Emily sat in the hired hack next to James, clutching her worn cloth bag to her middle. Last night, after her argument with Stephen, she had been desperate to leave Durham House. Indeed, she had been positively chomping at the bit.
But both James and Bess had persuaded her to stay, at least until morning. They had convinced her that there was no sense in running out into the night without a farthing to her name. She could not visit the bank until morning, anyway.
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