The Bride Who Got Lucky

by Janna MacGregor

  “She’s not here at the moment, or I’d introduce her to you.” His voice had lost the jagged edge of his anguish. A weight was lifted from his chest, and he breathed a little easier.

  “Perhaps … a later time?” The entreaty in the duke’s tone couldn’t be missed.

  If the duke saw him as the last link to his mother, wasn’t the duke the same link for him? Could they heal this breach between them with their mutual love for a woman who died thirty years ago?

  He had to consider whether he even wanted his father in his life. Yesterday, the answer would have been an adamant “no.” When Emma had left him earlier in the day, his “no” would have weakened to a “maybe.” Now he wasn’t certain of the answer, but he was confident of one thing—Emma would take one look at the lonely and dejected man and urge Nick to forgive him. She’d want him to take this opportunity, take the risk, and try to salvage what was left between him and his father. She’d urge him to take this new beginning and build something positive from their previous mistakes.

  “I’m certain my countess would welcome meeting her father-in-law sooner rather than later.” With that invitation, Nick’s self-doubts shattered. It was hard to fathom, but he’d take this chance to try to find peace with his father. Perhaps it was a way to win his wife back into his arms.

  “Thank you, Nicholas. I didn’t expect … but I’d prayed you’d let me meet her.” The look of gratitude in Renton’s eyes was hard to mistake. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, I hope you don’t hesitate to ask.”

  In that moment, an epiphany charged through Nick. He knew what he needed to do to show Emma how much she meant to him. He’d prove he loved her beyond all reason.

  “Will you meet me at Hampstead Heath tomorrow? The Earl of Sykeston is dueling the Earl of Aulton. They’ll fight to the death to achieve satisfaction of their grievance. If you can’t, I understand. But I’d ask you not support any retribution in the House of Lords against Sykeston if he’s the winner.”

  “I’ll meet you and support the Earl of Sykeston.” His father nodded, then grew serious. “Do you love her?”

  Everything within him stilled. He loved Emma with a force that required he unapologetically proclaim it to the world. He laughed and let the exuberance of that reality overtake him. “Desperately.”

  He needed to be by her side and let her know about the duel. He needed to show her how valuable she was, not only to him, but to all the others who depended upon her goodness and her strength.

  He’d show her all the people she’d touched and how their lives had changed for the better because of her. He’d show her that she couldn’t give up on them. That they all needed her.

  But more importantly, he needed her. He couldn’t let her give up on him either. But first, there were several matters that he had to attend to in order to have everything ready for tomorrow.

  The fateful day promised to be quite busy for him and his lovely, but wildly bewildering, wife.

  * * *

  After she’d walked for hours, Emma found herself at Langham Park. For the first time in her life, the familiar refuge seemed as dissolute as the gaping hole within her heart. There were no squirrels to offer a lecture or dogs to nestle their noses in comfort or cheerful flowers to offer a bit of joy. Just a cold north wind that blew through the empty branches of the trees. It all foretold the truth she’d been unwilling to accept.

  Her husband might say he loved her and supported her convictions, but his actions and words the last two days were the new foundations of their marriage.

  “May I join you?” Claire’s green cloak snapped in the wind, and tendrils of her auburn hair blew about her face. Her cousin tried to tame the wayward locks, but the wind was too strong.

  Emma scooted over, and Claire took the seat beside her. While she surveyed the park, she took Emma’s hand in hers. “What’s wrong? Don’t tell me nothing. I see it in your face.”

  “I don’t know what I’m doing—in my marriage or in my life.” A defiant tear slid down her cheek. The cold wind attacked, leaving a trail of wetness stinging her cheek. “Before Lena’s death and my marriage, I’d constructed everything in my life to my liking. Now, I have control over nothing.” More tears collected in an attack against her composure, their will stronger than hers.

  Claire narrowed her eyes as she raked her gaze over Emma. “Does your husband know how you feel?”

  “Yes.” Emma shuddered before taking a breath. “He doesn’t care.”

  Claire threw her arm around Emma’s shoulders and drew her close. Without any space between them, the wind lost its bluster. “I’ll share all I’ve learned so far in marriage.” Claire’s voice was low and blanketed Emma in a calmness she hadn’t experienced in days. “Maybe it will help you find your way.”

  “I’ve missed you,” Emma said.

  “Me, too.” Claire took Emma’s hand and rubbed it across her cheek. “No one knows better than me how hard marriage is. Remember I was ready to forgo Alex and the idea of a family. I didn’t have the strength or desire to carry the weight. But Alex shouldered everything for a while until I was ready to try again and we could work out our differences.”

  Emma closed her hand over Claire’s and squeezed. “I remember how hard it was for you. I thought you were moving to Scotland.”

  Claire raised her eyebrows. “I know you crave independence in our world and justice for the wrongs that befall women, but marriage can be the vehicle to attain your heart’s desires.”

  Emma snorted. “Lud, Claire, what nonsense.” She grew solemn, and her voice wobbled. “I wasn’t ready. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready. I’m not a woman who makes a dutiful wife. Now? I’m fighting to keep what little I can control in order.”

  “Do you think Somerton wants someone docile? If he did, he wouldn’t have followed you to Portsmouth. Nor would he have accompanied you to Lord Sykeston’s house or offered Lena’s maid and her mother employment. He wants you.” Claire reached up and brushed Emma’s hair away from her face. “Do you love him?”

  “Yes.” Emma gave a hiccup. “I hate it. Everything he does I study to find the exact meaning behind the actions. I’m such a lovesick fool, I make myself cringe.” She gave a small laugh. “Who’d have thought that I would be in such a web?”

  “Emmy, that’s not true.” When Emma tried to shake her head, Claire held up her hand. “Let me finish. When you come into the room, he moves toward you, sits next to you, watches you, but more importantly, he’s centered when you’re with him. Both Alex and I have seen it. Frankly, Alex has been entertained by Somerton’s befuddlement for weeks. That night when I found you here next to the bench, Somerton delivered a most appropriate set-down of Alex’s behavior toward you and your beliefs.”

  Emma’s breath hitched. Claire deserved the truth. “Aulton is betrothed to a woman who wants to break the engagement and needs money to do so. She’s the sister of a man Nick despises. When I asked him to let me lend her the money, he refused.”

  Claire raised an eyebrow.

  “I thought if I could save that woman, it would rid me of my grief.” Emma closed her eyes and swallowed the misery that threatened to choke her. “But he chose his money and his past over me.”

  “Have you talked to him about your feelings?” Claire tucked one of Emma’s curls behind an ear and then drew the hood of Emma’s cloak about her head.

  “For the last two days.”

  Claire studied the gray landscape. “My advice is to give him a chance to make this right. Remember when I told you that neither of you are good at compromise? Perhaps you both need time to determine how you can bridge these differences between you. He loves you. Nothing you can say could convince me otherwise.”

  “Oh Claire, you see life as perfect. The truth is sometimes love isn’t enough.”

  Claire blew the breath out of the left side of her mouth. A tell her patience was at an end. “Emma, listen to what I’m saying. You have the ability to have a wonderful and f
ull life filled with love, happiness, family, and anything else you desire. Are you going to let this adventure of a lifetime escape without taking the ride offered? Are you afraid to risk your heart for something truly rare and beautiful? You’re not that obtuse, are you? Imagine creating a family with Somerton, along with the unflinching support of the family who’s loved you from day one. But most importantly, a husband who adores you. A husband who would do anything for you.”

  “You don’t understand,” Emma murmured. “That’s not my life.”

  “He gave you ten thousand pounds and helped you start a thriving business. Most men wouldn’t have given their wives the opportunity to discuss such an operation, but Somerton did. He’s supporting your beliefs the best way he knows how.” Claire’s sigh was barely audible. “Emma, find the good in your marriage and work on making the rest of it better.”

  She shook her head and was about to deny it.

  Claire continued, not allowing Emma a word edgewise. “All you have to do is take a chance. Open your heart. He needs you desperately. Somerton is a wonderful, loving man. If it hadn’t been for him, I’m not certain Alex and I could have saved our marriage.”

  The vehement loyalty in her cousin’s face was breathtaking. “Really? I never knew he helped you.”

  Claire nodded. “I won’t go into the details, but Somerton encouraged Alex to come to London and make amends. He made the trip with Alex.” She took Emma’s hand and entwined their fingers. “There’s a marvelous journey ahead of you. Marriage with a true partner. It’s everything you could want and more. You’ll never have it if you don’t try. When has a Cavensham not taken a risk?”

  “Perhaps it’s too late.” In so many words, she’d told him their marriage would never work. But how could she give up on the man she loved beyond all reason?

  “If there’s love, it’s never too late. Give him a chance.” Claire let go of her hand and stood.

  Emma followed suit and kissed Claire on the cheek. “Thank you. I’ll go home and see my husband.”

  Claire tucked her arm around Emma’s and led her back to Langham Hall. “I always knew you were brilliant.”

  * * *

  After leaving Claire, Emma returned home and waited for Nick in her bedroom. She’d sent Arial to bed and waited some more. When he never came home that night, deep inside, she feared her words had caused a chasm between them that would never heal. Unable to sleep, she’d sat in a chair and guarded her window, willing Nick to return. As the first wisps of dawn broke, a soft knock at her door drew her attention away from her watch. “Come in.”

  Nick stepped inside and closed the door. Not moving or saying a word, his gaze affixed to hers. Every word she’d wanted to say escaped when he entered the bedroom. He looked tired, and his face was drawn.

  “Good morning, love,” he whispered.

  The endearment caused her heart to miss a beat. “Good morning.”

  He slowly walked to her as if wary he’d frighten her away. When he reached her side, he pressed his lips against her cheek. She swallowed and kissed his in return. If only they could go back to last week, they wouldn’t have to face the harsh realities of the day.

  “You’re wearing your gown from yesterday,” he said.

  Too afraid to break the strange peacefulness between them, she could only nod her head.

  “You didn’t sleep either?” He rested on his haunches and faced her. His black morning coat fell away to reveal a dark gray waistcoat that fit his body like a second skin. The immaculate mathematical knot of his neckcloth emphasized the breadth of his neck and shoulders. Lean and powerful, he resembled a lion ready to strike and protect what was his. And she was his.

  She shook her head. “I couldn’t until I spoke with you.” She trailed her finger down the sharp angles of his jaw. His hand covered hers, anchoring it to his cheek. “I must apologize.”

  His brows drew together. “Why?”

  She swallowed and forced herself to hold his gaze. “I allowed … my obsession with Lena to come between us. You’ve shown your support for me over and over the short time we’ve been married.” She studied his long fingers pressed against hers, the inherent strength harnessed as he tenderly touched her. “You deserve better. If you’d find it in your heart to give me another chance—”

  “Yes, always.” His hand tightened over hers, the touch comforting. “I understand your grief. It mirrored my own in so many ways. Together, we’ll help each other heal. Whatever you give me is enough—”

  “No.” Her eyes anchored his, willing him to understand. “You have all of me—my heart and my commitment. Let me prove it to you.”

  He caressed her with his gaze. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his. More intimate than a kiss, their touch was a pledge between them.

  “Sweetheart, we don’t have much time,” Nick whispered. His lips swept across hers. “We need to leave.”

  “Where?” Her voice croaked with the resonance of a bullfrog.

  “I’m taking you to a duel. Now, hurry.”

  Her eyes flew open in disbelief. “What?”

  “Sykeston is meeting Aulton at Hampstead Heath at first light. You’re going to witness Lena’s final justice.”

  “When did Jonathan challenge him?” Every thought churned into a tempest as she struggled with what Nick was saying.

  “Yesterday.” Nick took her hands in his and helped her rise.

  “Was he sober?” she asked.

  “He appeared perfectly fine.” He led her to the dressing table. He twisted her braided hair into a knot, but his large fingers fumbled with the hairpins.

  “Let me do this.” Emma quickly pinned the mass of hair into place. “What weapon did Aulton chose?”

  “Pistols. Sykeston told me yesterday afternoon.”

  She stood and straightened her gown. He evaluated her and nodded his approval.

  “Perfect. I’ll tell you everything in the carriage.” With her hand in his, he led her downstairs. At the foot of the stairs stood Arial, Whaley, and Hamm.

  “Good morning, my lady.” Arial greeted her with a smile and a beautiful black velvet cloak trimmed in gray cording. “His lordship bought this for you yesterday.”

  The elegance of the cloak stole her breath as Arial held it for her. The rich fabric shimmered as the light caught the nap of the fabric. She allowed Arial to slip it around her shoulders. The finishing touch, a diamond button, served to secure it about her person.

  “It was striking in the shop’s window, and immediately I thought of you,” he whispered.

  His gaze devoured her, and she lost her ability to form a coherent thought. When Arial straightened the hem, Emma concentrated on the simple action and forced herself to breathe.

  With a trademark flourish, Whaley held Nick’s black greatcoat. “My lord.”

  Hamm swept open the door as if they were going to opening night at the opera.

  Nick held out his hand for her to take. “Are you ready?”

  At the sound of his voice, she lifted her head. Nervous, Emma again smoothed her hand across the luxurious velvet, the beauty of the garment belied the inherent strength of the fabric. It reminded her that her husband’s handsome exterior covered an unwavering fortitude. Before her eyes stood a man who promised her a life she so wanted—a future they would build together based upon the love and care they had for each other. The man she had doubted, her husband, was the reason for the resurgence of her hope. He was taking her to see justice done and to find her long-awaited absolution—a hope and dream she believed dead.

  “Thank you for this.” She swept her hand down the cloak. Last night’s misgivings diminished as this indefinable moment grew in importance. “Thank you for this morning.”

  He didn’t acknowledge her thanks, but the satisfaction in his visage was unmistakable. He took her hand and helped her into the carriage. Within seconds, they were barreling north through town with their destination, the Hampstead Heath dueling grounds, less than a
half hour away.

  Nick sat across from her in the rear-facing seat. When she started to speak, he held up his hand. “You have a thousand or more questions, but let me start. Sykeston came to our home in hopes he’d be able to offer his thanks to you personally for the letters. After he read them, he wasted little time in finding Aulton at White’s. Yesterday morning, Sykeston issued the challenge in front of practically the whole club. Aulton had no choice but to accept.”

  He leaned toward her with his legs framing hers. His warmth penetrated the thick velvet cloak, but it wasn’t enough, and she moved closer. She shut out all distractions except for him.

  “Why are you taking me there?” Her blood surged to where they touched; his massive thighs dominated hers in size.

  Tilting her chin, his caress commanded she pay attention. There was no need as his compelling eyes held her mesmerized.

  “From the first time I saw you hell-bent to retrieve the Bentham book, I wanted you.” Brushing his knuckles against her cheek, he continued. “Never in my life had I seen such vitality in another. I tried to banish such thoughts and concentrate on my work. But, time and again, we’d meet. My need, my want, my longing grew until I couldn’t deny it.”

  Her body threatened to combust from the heat in his eyes. The honesty in his expression locked her in place.

  “Yesterday, after I met with Sykeston, I had another visitor waiting for me. My father.”

  Involuntarily, she moved toward him to offer comfort. It had to have been a shock for him. She searched his face for any sign of unease, but found nothing but earnestness. “I wish I would have been there for you.”

  “Actually, I think it was best you weren’t as it forced us to confront the pain we’d inflicted on each other.” His admission caused a tightening of his lips. “It was the first honest conversation we’ve ever shared.”

  “What did he say?” A heaviness centered in her chest at the thought his father had hurt him again.

  “He apologized. He readily admitted how wrong he was all those years.”