Emily's Beau

by Allison Lane

  He had come to some painful decisions. Those angry vows of last week must stand. Facing Emily was impossible, for it would crack his composure, pushing him into dishonor that he would never live down. At least relinquishing his friendship with Charles would be easy, for imagining the man making love to Emily invoked a hatred nearly as powerful as his love. Thus the Beaux must disband.

  He would remain cordial with Richard, of course. Richard was a neighbor and would one day own Cherry Hill. They must deal with each other, no matter what. And continuing that friendship would not bring him face to face with Emily. She would rarely visit Gloucestershire.

  The most bitter loss would be his Parliamentary work. He could not remain in town knowing Charles and Emily were nearby. As soon as he fulfilled the obligations he’d already accepted, he would remove to Hawthorne Park and stay there.

  His calm disintegrated the moment he reached his study. Four letters sat on his desk, including one from Charles. Sucking in a deep breath, he cracked the seal. It demanded a meeting – had Emily mentioned his attack in Lady Debenham’s garden?

  Emily’s hand on the next one reinforced that fear. Would she add recriminations or warn him of Charles’s temper? Or was she, too, demanding a meeting?

  He needed two glasses of brandy before he dared open her note. The urge to stroke the paper she’d touched and trace the letters she’d formed cracked his composure, destroying every bit of peace he’d gained from his absence.

  Her tone added new pain – polite, succinct, and completely without warmth, driving a stake through his heart. He stared at the page.

  My lord,

  Our long acquaintance emboldens me to warn you that Miss Nichols’s tantrums have increased in your absence, distressing Lady Inslip and infuriating Lady Sophie. Neither of them can complain without straining your friendship, but a prudent guardian would take her sharply to task for her behavior. You should also know that to escape supervision, Miss Nichols drugged Miss Beaumont on at least one occasion.

  Miss Hughes

  Fury engulfed him, though this explained Charles’s demand for a meeting. Charles would be incensed if his family was harmed. And they would be if Harriet caused a scandal while under their roof.

  Thankful that Emily had warned him so he needn’t face Charles, he consigned the latter’s note to the fire and studied the two missives from Richard.

  The first merely expressed hope that the emergency at Oakhaven had been resolved. The second suggested cards, then mentioned that he’d found several candidates to wed Harriet. There was no hint that the girl was causing trouble.

  Jacob was glad that Emily had not disclosed Harriet’s doings to her brother. It would be too much to have everyone annoyed at him.

  He would meet Richard immediately and find out where Harriet would be that evening. It was time to read her the riot act.

  * * * *

  Two hours later, Jacob joined Richard in the reading room at White’s. It was empty. Few men were out this early, though the card room contained a table of whist players left over from last night.

  “Who did you find for Harriet?” he asked when the footman had finished serving wine.

  “A butcher. A blacksmith. A vicar. A—”

  “Vicar?” Jacob laughed humorlessly. “She would precipitate the downfall of the church if she wed a vicar.”

  “She is a handful,” agreed Richard carefully.

  “Don’t tiptoe around the truth,” snapped Jacob. “She is headstrong, spoiled, and selfish to the core. I want her far, far away.”

  “She won’t be pleased at leaving town,” Richard said bluntly. “But if that’s what you want, the best candidate is Mr. Barnes, one of Clifford’s tenants. Barnes recently lost his wife in childbirth. His oldest is barely ten, so he badly needs a wife to care for his six children.”

  “Clifford’s seat is in Yorkshire.”

  Richard nodded.

  “Can Barnes control her until she settles in?”

  “He spent fifteen years in the army, rising to the rank of sergeant before injuries forced him home. His last three years of service were in India.”

  “Barnes.” He frowned. “I don’t know the name.”

  “You wouldn’t. He retired twelve years ago. Since he was born on the Clifford estate, he returned there and wed the daughter of another tenant. She had no brothers, so Barnes took over that tenancy after her father died. He is crusty enough that few women are willing to take him on.”

  “It sounds perfect.” Barnes might even recall Harriet from India. “I’ll speak to Clifford tonight. Harriet’s dowry is five hundred, but I’ll raise it to two thousand if Barnes keeps her busy in Yorkshire.”

  A sergeant. Exactly what Harriet needed to bring her to heel. The moment Barnes accepted the offer, he would pack Harriet off to the country, special license in hand, and be rid of her. Distressing Lady Inslip was the last straw.

  “Is everything under control at Oakhaven?” asked Richard, breaking into Jacob’s thoughts.

  “It is now,” he said, which explained nothing, but he refused to lie about a nonexistent crisis. Nor could he admit his reason for fleeing town. “Where will Harriet be this evening?” he asked to change the subject. “Charles is complaining about her behavior.”

  “Charles?” Richard sounded surprised. “Unless Lady Inslip told him – which doesn’t sound at all like her – he wouldn’t know anything. He hasn’t been to Inslip House since last week’s ball, and I doubt he’s seen Harriet since then, either.” He frowned. “We’ve none of us seen much of him, actually. There must be trouble at the Foreign Office. I’ll ask Emily.”

  Charles was probably keeping Emily to himself, Jacob groused silently, cursing his blunder. Of course Charles knew nothing about Harriet. He was probably initiating Emily into—

  He slammed the door on the thought.

  “She might be at the Hartleigh ball tonight,” continued Richard, not noticing Jacob’s abstraction. “That’s where everyone else will be.”

  “Good. So what happened while I was gone?” His valet would have the latest gossip by the time he returned to the house, but talking would keep Richard from asking questions he didn’t want to answer.

  “Glendale House is in an uproar.”

  “Still reeling from Lord Sedgewick’s marriage?”

  “In part. Glendale suffered an apoplectic fit and is not expected to live. Lady Glendale is no longer speaking to either of her sons. The falling out seems permanent. Ellisham left for France three days ago, leaving Lord Sedgewick to run the Glendale affairs. Rumors are flying that Lady Glendale will soon depart for Scotland and is not expected back.”

  “Good Lord!” Jacob stared. “What happened?”

  “You know how top-lofty Lady Glendale is.”

  “Of course. She can’t think much of Lady Sedgewick, though I’ve always liked the girl.”

  “As have I. But Lady Glendale tried to drive Lady Sedgewick from town while Lord Sedgewick was away on business. She hoped he would seek an annulment. Not only did she fail, but both sons turned on her. Details are scarce, but that makes speculation irresistible.”

  Jacob shook his head, though a scandal of this magnitude would draw attention from Harriet’s last days in town.

  “Wellington accepted a cabinet post as Master of Ordnance,” continued Richard. “Colonel Caldwell is looking for you, probably to discuss some new debate in Parliament.”

  Jacob made a mental note to avoid Caldwell so he needn’t explain why he was retiring to the country, then directed their talk to ongoing courtships, surprised to learn that Sophie seemed seriously interested in Ashington.

  Maybe that was what Charles wanted to discuss.

  * * * *

  Emily stood with Charles at the Hartleigh ball that evening, but she might as well have accompanied a stranger. He spoke little and rarely met her eyes. Every day he grew more remote.

  But her spirits soared when she spotted Sophie. Her friend was approaching so fast, her fee
t barely touched the floor. Waves of excitement rolled from her, heating the already overheated room – the Regent hated drafts, so every door and window was shut tight.

  “Guess what!” Sophie whispered as she tugged Emily a step away from Charles’s side. Not that whispering was necessary. So many people were talking that a shout could have gone unnoticed.

  Emily smiled. “Harriet accepted an adventurer and will leave for China in the morning.”

  Sophie laughed. “Very droll,” she managed at last. “I admit my news isn’t quite that good, but Lord Ashington demanded two waltzes tonight, including the supper dance. And he’s driving me to Richmond tomorrow with only one other couple in attendance.”

  “Wonderful!” Emily squeezed her hand. Such assiduous attention was as good as a declaration. The gossips would be buzzing – which meant Emily must keep Charles in line. Given his glumness, it seemed an impossible task.

  Charles finally noticed Sophie’s presence and turned a quizzical eye on them, so Sophie changed the subject. “Mr. Larkin kept Miss Cunningham on the terrace for the entire first set,” she reported brightly, her eyes fixed on Ashington as he chatted with Lord Hartleigh across the room. “I think he’s serious.”

  So did Emily, but she merely said, “They seem suited. She is very sweet, which is just what he is seeking.”

  “I expect an announcement quite soon. Lady Beatrice estimates two weeks, but I think one is more likely. He…” Her voice trailed off as Charles’s attention shifted elsewhere. “I – uh - I need to speak to Lady Hartleigh,” she murmured, drifting away, her eyes still on Ashington, who now spoke to their hostess.

  Emily shook her head.

  “What was that about?” Charles asked.

  “Jacob is back.” The words escaped without thought as she caught sight of him in the ballroom doorway, sending her treacherous heart into a gallop.

  “Oh.” His voice could freeze fire.

  Shocked, she turned her full attention on Charles. What now? Had he detected her infatuation? That might explain the change in his demeanor. Or was it something else? His eyes held … fear? They slid away before she could be sure.

  Not until she met Jacob’s gaze did she realize that her own had shifted back to the door to drink in his broad shoulders and brilliant blue eyes.

  Tearing herself away, she smiled at Charles, hoping she looked less strained than she felt. “This is your set, my dear.”

  “So it is.” He swung her into the waltz.

  When the first turn let Emily see the entrance, Jacob was gone. Had he been there at all, or had her imagination conjured his image?

  * * * *

  Jacob swore as he slipped from Hartleigh House. Emily had caught him staring like an adoring puppy – or like some lovesick swain spouting excruciating odes to her amber eyes.

  He shuddered.

  He ought to have stayed long enough to find Harriet, but the sight of Charles at Emily’s side had ignited his rage yet again. Would the day ever arrive when he could face his erstwhile friend with equanimity?

  So he left before he did something he would regret. His best course was to go home and stay there until he regained his composure.

  At least he’d found Clifford. Barnes would receive an offer for Harriet in two days. Within the week, she might be settled.

  * * * *

  Richard stared at the empty doorway, wondering what the devil was wrong with Jacob. He’d taken one look at Charles, turned white as a sheet, then fled.

  Emergency, hell! Jacob had fought with Charles, then left town to keep the incident from the gossips – the Beaux always kept their troubles private. No wonder Charles had looked so grim lately. What the devil had sundered their friendship this time?

  Somehow he must find out. He could not have his two closest friends at odds with each other. Once again, it was up to him to mend the hole in the Beaux’ armor.

  Why did Jacob and Charles have such hot tempers?

  * * * *

  “Why is Sophie dancing with Ashington again? That’s twice tonight!” hissed Charles during the supper dance. It was the first time in a week he’d taken two sets.

  “Behave!” she hissed back. “You can’t cause a scene. The Regent is here. What would he say if one of his diplomats started a brawl?”

  “He would agree that such provocation cannot be borne.”

  “Will you listen to yourself? A duke’s heir is dancing quite properly with a marquess’s daughter while surrounded by three hundred of his peers. No one can consider that a provocation. What would your mother say?”

  “That seeing Sophie’s reputation in shreds would be worse.”

  “It won’t be.”

  “How can you know? Flirting with excitement is understandable. But why choose him? The man is the worst sort of rake.”

  “No.”

  He stared, shocked into looking deep into her eyes.

  “You are the only man who has said a word against Ashington in all my weeks in town,” she said calmly. “Everyone else considers him an exemplary gentleman and a good catch.”

  “But—”

  “Please, Charles. I know you hate him. I’ve heard enough rumors to suspect why. But please set aside your quarrel for a moment and think. Sophie is not flirting with excitement. She loves him.”

  He tripped on her foot and nearly fell. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I am. She’s had her eye on him for the past two Seasons, but he wasn’t looking for a wife. Or perhaps he was avoiding your animosity. Now he is ready to take what he wants, regardless of your opposition.”

  “Never. He’s toying with her to irritate me.”

  “I don’t believe that for a moment.”

  “He’ll never change.”

  “Love changes many things, Charles. It changed your father and brother by all accounts. You claim it changed you. So why would it not change him as well?” She met his gaze, trying to force him to accept the truth. “I’ve spoken with him several times. His eyes blaze with love whenever he mentions Sophie. His face lights up with every glance. Talk to him yourself if you’re not sure. But don’t let your own grievance destroy Sophie’s chance for happiness. She’s waited too long for this. If she doesn’t wed Ashington, she will wed no one. Do you want society to brush her aside as a confirmed spinster?” She was taking a huge chance, but Sophie needed more than a loving marriage. She needed Charles to accept her choice.

  “Very well. I’ll talk to him – without malice.” He scowled. “But why the devil would she fix on someone like him?”

  “Because he’s exactly like her favorite brother.”

  Charles stared as if he’d never seen her before, then exploded in laughter, relaxing into the man who’d proposed to her. “By God, you’re right.” He spun her through a tight sequence of turns, pulling her close as he’d done after announcing their betrothal. “I suppose that’s why we fight so often. Let’s hope he’s mellowed since we last locked horns.” He pulled her closer on the next turn. “Thank you, sweetheart. You’ve kept me from making a fool of myself.”

  Emily smiled up at him, relieved that everything was all right. For Sophie’s sake, he would give Ashington a fair hearing.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “I don’t know how we can manage a proper wedding breakfast,” moaned Lady Hughes a week later, waving her vinaigrette beneath her nose. “We haven’t enough space. Mrs. Hodges can never manage that much food. We can’t—”

  “Stop fretting,” snapped Emily crossly. “I’m not wedding a royal duke, for heaven’s sake. The marriage of a third son to the daughter of a minor viscount is hardly the social event of the Season. The guest list is small, and Gunter’s can help with the food.”

  Or so she hoped. While she’d discussed arrangements with Lady Inslip, she had no idea how many friends Charles might invite. They hadn’t discussed their marriage since they’d chosen a house several days earlier. He’d been so aloof that she hadn’t drummed up the courage to ask him. Or the enth
usiasm, she admitted.

  But they needed to talk about final arrangements. The wedding was only a week away.

  His lightheartedness at the Hartleigh ball hadn’t lasted beyond escorting her home that evening, confirming Harriet’s claims that his offer had nothing to do with love. Emily accepted that, but she had no idea how to tell him that she would make no unwanted demands on him. He also seemed at a loss for words, despite his usually glib tongue. After his vow of eternal love, he could find no painless way to tell her that he’d exaggerated and expected no more than a marriage of convenience.

  Or so she hoped. It wasn’t the marriage she’d dreamed of, but dreams had little to do with reality. She and Charles had been friends for years and could surely regain that once they were clear on what their marriage would and would not encompass.

  Knowing that he cared enough to consider her feelings should have made it easy to broach the subject. But it didn’t, because something else was bothering him. Something serious. He jumped at the least sound, avoided half of the entertainments he should have attended, and rarely spoke – and then only when asked a question. It almost seemed as if he expected an attack.

  In the past, the other Beaux would have taken him in hand, but none of the Beaux were behaving as usual. Richard was surprisingly grim for a man known for lighthearted insouciance. Charles was avoiding him. At first, she’d thought she was imagining things, but he’d actually fled Lady Hartford’s rout last night when Richard arrived, leaving her to find her own way home.

  As for Jacob, he might as well have stayed at Oakhaven, for he attended nothing, not even events that included Harriet. Emily might have thought her glimpse of him had been imagination if Richard hadn’t mentioned meeting him at White’s.

  She reminded herself that she was glad Jacob wasn’t hovering over her. She could not have endured the extra strain now that Charles—

  “Lord Charles might be a third son, but his father is a marquess,” said Lady Hughes, interrupting. “He is a rising figure in government and might well be prime minister one day. I won’t have Lady Jersey think you unsuited to such circles – which means we cannot scrimp on the wedding breakfast.”