Cardiff Siblings 01 - Seven Minutes in Devon

by Catherine Gayle

  Which was precisely what she’d been telling herself for the duration of the house party—what she’d been attempting to convince herself of. Of course, her attempts had been rather unsuccessful in that regard.

  Emma swallowed hard. She should accept him. That would be the reasonable thing to do, because he was a good and honorable man, and he clearly wanted to be married to her. She wasn’t entirely certain the same could be said for Mr. Cardiff, and in fact, most likely the opposite was true. This was her entire purpose in coming to Devon—to find a husband, the sort of gentleman who would ease her parents’ worry about her future.

  Yet, no matter how much her pulse raced through her veins at the moment, no matter how short of breath she had become, none of it was due to any wealth of emotion Sir Henry Irvine engendered within her. She still felt nothing but friendship toward him. Regardless of the fact that this was what she thought she wanted in a relationship with a gentleman, she couldn’t convince herself of the truth of it.

  She wanted more. She wanted the grand passions she felt when Mr. Cardiff came near, even when it was wrought with animosity at times. She wanted to feel as though her body was alive when she was in her husband’s presence, to have electric shocks screaming from her pores and fire burning in her veins. She wanted to feel as though a kiss could mean everything—could mean more than any words which might come from his mouth.

  With Mr. Cardiff, those things were highly possible. Emma couldn’t see such a thing ever taking place between her and Sir Henry.

  She tried to pull her hand away, tried to take a step back, but he did not release his hold.

  “I’m so very sorry—”

  “Don’t apologize,” he interrupted with more fervor than she’d ever heard from him before. “And don’t say no. Miss Hathaway—Emma—Mr. Cardiff is not good for you. He will only hurt you, and you deserve so much better.”

  When she continued to tug, he let out a sigh and finally released her hand.

  “Please, reconsider,” he said. “I have no desire to see you end up with a broken heart, and that is all I can imagine will happen if you agree to this farce. He will hurt you, if not physically, at least emotionally. I know it will happen.”

  Would it not hurt just as egregiously to marry a good and kind man whom she knew, without a doubt, she could never truly love?

  She brushed aside a tear and took a step back, feeling a keen need to place more distance between them. “I cannot marry you, Sir Henry. I cannot in good conscience subject you to a lifetime spent with someone who does not feel devotion for you of equal measure to what you feel for her. It would not be right.”

  Standing, he adjusted his beaver hat upon his head. His jaw clenched so hard a muscle jerked within it. “In time, you could come to feel—”

  “I assure you, I could not,” she cut in, making certain her tone was firm so he would not doubt her sincerity. “I do hold you in great esteem, and I treasure your friendship…but that is all there can ever be.”

  His brow furrowed, forming a deep crease over his nose. He lifted his chin. “Very well. But if you should change your mind—”

  “I won’t.”

  “If you should, my offer still stands. I assure you, I am quite earnest.”

  On that, she held no doubt. She only wished she were so certain about the decision she’d made.

  He held out his arm for her to take, keeping Kingley’s lead firmly in the other hand. “For that matter,” he said after they’d started their return to the manor house, “I have no intention of giving up quite so easily. Until you are well and truly another man’s wife, I will not stop my pursuit.”

  His pursuit might not stop, but her heart did. What had she gotten herself into? She’d been hopeful she might find one gentleman upon whom to set her cap, but now she had two vying for her attentions.

  Aidan stood next to Emma in the drawing room, her gloved hand upon his arm causing it to tingle erratically. Or perhaps it was the fact that the entire houseful was staring at them, cheering for them, as though what had just been announced was a blessing. He had to physically force himself not to grumble aloud, because he hated every blasted moment of this so much that even his teeth were on edge.

  A man ought to feel his impending marriage was to be a blessing. Aidan could only feel that his was doomed from the start.

  Yet he wasn’t sorry in the slightest that they were to marry—which was a thought that shocked him straight to his core. Now that the deed was done, or at least now that it had been agreed upon and announced, he would no longer have to feel guilty about looking at Emma with lust, or about his libidinous thoughts, or even about sneaking off to steal a kiss (or more) from her.

  How such a change in his thinking came to be, Aidan could never say. He’d tried to discover the origin of the shift last night, as he lay awake for hours in his bed, thinking about what had taken place in such a short time.

  In some small degree, it had likely started when Emma had defended Morgan at supper that first night. How could she possibly be the hateful, loathsome creature he’d made her out to be all that time and then also be such a true friend to his sister? It wasn’t entirely possible for her to be both at the same time, so perhaps his initial impression of her was unjust.

  And then, over the course of the house party, Emma had continued to prove herself the kind and thoughtful woman who had championed Morgan, and not the inattentive chit who’d supposedly allowed Morgan to hurt herself all those years ago. She’d befriended Morgan and made certain to include her at every turn. She’d found a way to give Morgan more freedom to do things on her own than any of them had ever dreamed would be possible. And Morgan had been thriving like Aidan had long ago stopped allowing himself to believe would ever happen again.

  All of the things he’d held to for so many years, it seemed, had been a figment of Aidan’s imagination. A falsehood he’d allowed himself to believe—but why? Why would he have spent such time and effort, so many years of his life, hating a girl for something she could never have prevented in the first place?

  Sometime before dawn this morning, it had finally hit him like a gale—he’d blamed her all this time because he couldn’t bear to blame the one person in this world who truly was at fault. Not Emma, not himself, not Niall, and not even Stoneham could be faulted for the state of Morgan’s misery.

  The only person in the world who bore responsibility for Morgan’s repeated attempts to claim her own life was Morgan herself.

  Aidan supposed he’d finally recognized it that day in the hermitage, when the ladies had discovered him at work with his sculpture. With Emma standing next to the angel, it was as clear as the sky on a cloudless day—the angel he’d been sculpting was Emma. He’d crafted her long nose, her downturned eyes. But her hands were reaching out. Down. Into the water, toward Morgan, trying to rescue her.

  The angel’s tears and the reach of her arms were a permanent reminder of who Emma truly was as a person—always helping those who needed help, heedless of her own needs and safety.

  He’d watched Morgan explore the marble with her hands, running her fingers and palms over every contour and crevice he’d created, and her face had come alive. He knew then that she would forever bear the reminders of how deeply she’d been wounded—but she had moved on. She was living again, and taking all life had to offer her with open arms.

  He, however, was stuck living with his anger.

  Or he had been. That didn’t mean he had to continue with his life in that way.

  The problem now was that he didn’t truly know how to go about letting it go. Not entirely. Aidan had no intention of redirecting it onto Morgan, but he couldn’t very well continue directing it toward Emma. Especially not since now, he had to marry her.

  But in some odd way, it seemed only fitting that he would. He’d spent three years of his life wishing her to Hades. Now he would spend the rest of his life in making up for it.

  There was only one problem. As they stood there, surrou
nded by the rest of the houseguests, by his siblings and hers, Emma didn’t seem all that happy about any of it. In fact, she seemed downright morose, staring across at Sir Henry Irvine with a queer combination of anxiety and embarrassment. Before he spent much time in attempting to decipher why she would look upon the baronet in such a way, Aidan caught Sir Henry’s expression—sheer, unadulterated desperation. Likewise, the man couldn’t seem to take his gaze away from Emma, aside from those moments when he turned to glare at Aidan with what seemed to be a decisive threat.

  Had he been so caught up in trying to determine what he felt for Emma Hathaway and why that he hadn’t noticed a growing tendre between Sir Henry and her? Had he forced Emma’s hand, and all the while her heart belonged to another?

  And now that he thought of it, another realization struck him—for all that he lusted after Emma, and all that he admired her for how she had been with Morgan, he really didn’t know her at all. That didn’t seem the best grounds upon which to begin a marriage, so he would have to do something about it. And soon.

  Not to mention the fact that he would have to get to the bottom of whatever was taking place between his betrothed and Sir Henry.

  Damnation, why did everything have to be so bloody complicated?

  Aidan waited while David announced the other betrothal between Muldaire and Miss Weston to the gathered crowd, doing his best to avoid glowering or sulking over the fact that his intended was looking at another man instead of him.

  Finally, after the crowd came forward to offer them all their congratulations and well wishes, they dispersed to take part in other pursuits for the remainder of the afternoon. Lord Muldaire and Miss Weston stood with the marquess’s brother, Lord Jacob, off to the side, speaking in hushed voices.

  With a smile as wide as the Thames, Morgan excused herself along with Miss Selwyn, Mr. Deering, and Sir Henry in order to go out to the grounds to find Kingley. He wanted to speak to Morgan, to see how she felt about the recent changes, but Emma caught her breath at Aidan’s side. She looked up at him as the group made their way out of the drawing room. “Would you mind terribly if I joined them? I had hoped to work with Morgan and Kingley today.”

  Allowing her to run off with the very man who appeared to be competition for her affections didn’t seem the wisest course of action, but Niall and David were making their way across the room to speak with him. Reluctantly, Aidan nodded. “Go on. I’ll join you all later.”

  He might have focused a bit too long on Sir Henry when he promised to join the group, but he couldn’t really be faulted for that. Could he?

  The five of them left, and Aidan tried to settle his thoughts so he could focus on David and Niall. That wasn’t as easy to accomplish as he might have liked, because the image of Emma and Sir Henry’s mutual glances kept invading his mind.

  David came to a stop and scowled at Aidan. “You’ll have to meet with her father, of course. I promised Sir Phillip I would only send those men worthy of his daughter his way, and believe me, I’m having difficulty in convincing myself you are, but he will have to be the one to work out the marriage contract with you.”

  That caused Aidan’s head to snap around. He’d been staring at the empty space Emma had vacated, but the thought of meeting her father and talking about the terms of their marriage returned him to the moment.

  “I thought we could stop by Kingsbridge and work all of that out before taking Morgan back to Tavistock Manor.” Niall’s lips were pinched together, and his posture was even more erect than normal.

  Aidan wondered for a moment what had come over his brother, but he couldn’t seem to force himself to think about it for too long. Niall was an impenetrable fortress, more often than not. If he wanted Aidan to know what was bothering him, he’d bring it up. Otherwise, there was no point in wasting thought on it.

  So he nodded. Short of racing Emma off to Gretna Green, there really wasn’t an alternative to speaking with her father. It would be better to do it sooner rather than later. Procrastination had never really served him well.

  “You should be aware that Trenowyth has agreed to my terms on the matter,” David said.

  Aidan looked up at that, unable to miss the steel behind David’s words. “Your terms?” How the man thought he would have any right to insisting upon terms in regard to his marriage, Aidan would never know.

  “Yes. Emma will stay at Tavistock Manor and you’ll remain in the dower house as you have been. If you decide to leave, she’ll still be with the family, so the gossip won’t be as bad as if she stayed here.”

  “We’ve already discussed this,” Aidan grumbled. His patience would only hold out so long, and Emma was outside with Sir Henry while they stood there talking about inane things.

  David crossed his arms over his chest. “There’s one bit you haven’t heard yet, though. If your brother sends me word that you have hurt her in any way, I will find you, and I will make certain you can never hurt anyone again. Am I clear?”

  “You realize you’re being ridiculous, don’t you? Once I marry Emma, she’ll be my wife, and you won’t have any right to be involved in our affairs in any way.”

  Aidan turned to stalk off, but Niall grabbed his arm.

  “This isn’t about what the law allows, Aidan. It’s about what’s right.”

  As always with Niall, everything was black and white. Never a shade of gray. And now, David was starting to act exactly the same way.

  How charming.

  Emma was still in a daze from the announcements while she and Morgan made their way across the lawn.

  “I couldn’t have asked for something better if I’d had the chance!” Morgan said. She linked her arm through Emma’s and nearly skipped in her excitement. “Sisters. I’ve never had a sister before, and I can’t think of anyone I’d rather have for my first sister than you.”

  Emma laughed at her friend’s enthusiasm, wishing all the while she shared in it. “I’m sure we’ll get on rather well.”

  Being sisters with Morgan was easy to be enthusiastic about. What was a bit more difficult was the fact that she’d be married to Morgan’s brother…and she wasn’t certain she’d made the right choice in refusing Sir Henry’s offer.

  Even as her thoughts turned to the baronet, he came back across the lawn with Mr. Deering, Miss Selwyn, and Kingley. He waved happily as they came.

  “I must say, though, I’m rather surprised by it all still.” Morgan slowed when she heard Kingley’s bark, and her tone turned more serious. “I never in a hundred years would have imagined you would be marrying Aidan. Why, you’ve hardly spent any time with him, and Sir Henry seems quite fond of you…”

  There was no opportunity for Emma to respond. The others were upon them, and the day’s lessons got underway.

  They’d only been working together for a few minutes when, of all people, Aidan made his way across the lawn in their direction. He’d said he would join them, but she hadn’t really believed him. Every day, he went off to work on his sculpting in the hermitage. He hadn’t taken part in any of the daily activities since only a day or two into the house party.

  Now that they were betrothed, did he intend to behave more like a gentleman? Emma was half-tempted to place a wager on how long such behavior would last.

  By the time Aidan arrived in the clearing, Kingley had led Morgan halfway to the wood, skirting her around various barricades with Mr. Deering and Sir Henry alongside the pair of them. Emma and Miss Selwyn had stayed behind.

  “Lovely day,” Aidan said when he reached Emma’s side. He placed his hand in the small of her back.

  She couldn’t decide if his action was possessive or protective. Bother, why did this all have to be so confusing? Her muddled head only grew more muddled by the heat he put off. It rolled from him in waves until she felt like she might suffocate from it. And yet she couldn’t help but want to draw closer to it, which only left her frustrated with herself.

  “It is,” Miss Selwyn agreed when Emma remained silent for s
o long it was becoming uncomfortable. “We’ve had delightful weather through the whole house party, haven’t we, Miss Hathaway?”

  “Quite,” she bit off. Her stare remained firmly affixed upon the lawn, but her thoughts didn’t budge from the entirely too enticing warmth coming from Aidan’s body.

  Miss Selwyn looked over at Emma shyly, her brown eyes blinking rapidly. Bother and blast, she hadn’t meant to be rude to the lady, and it was all Aidan’s fault.

  “Dear me,” Miss Selwyn said, leaning in closer to Emma, “you and I will both be spotted if we aren’t careful.”

  Aidan tensed at her side. “I could go inside and fetch a parasol—”

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll get one.” The girl gave Emma a conspiratorial look then, as though she were doing Emma a favor by leaving her alone with the man she was to marry. “I’ll be back before you realize I’m gone.”

  That wasn’t even remotely possible. Before Emma could voice a complaint, the sweet girl had scampered off, leaving Emma alone with Aidan while watching Morgan and the two gentlemen work with Kingley.

  Aidan drew her closer, his hand almost curling around the far side of her waist. She sighed in resignation. Well, she had intended to sigh, at least. The truth of the matter was it came out more like a huff, which only caused him to chuckle.

  And that gave Emma quite the start. The clenching in her stomach turned to flutters at the sound. Heavens! In all the time she’d known him, she had never once heard Aidan Cardiff laugh in any way. Oh, he certainly always bore a half-grin of sorts, but there was always a sneer beneath it. Always a snide remark, something biting and boorish. He had to be the least cheerful man she’d ever in her life known.