by Allison Lane
She nodded.
“It was Captain Nichols that he killed.” He shook his head. “Not in person, you understand. But Mrs. Nichols mesmerized him, obsessing him until he could think of nothing but possessing her. Under her spell, he sent his best friend into a fight he couldn’t win and tried to poison my mother.”
“None of which was your fault,” she said, hearing traces of guilt in his voice.
“No. But his behavior is yet another example of how the Hawthorne curse ruins lives. I can’t escape it.”
“Of course you can.” She covered his lips when he tried to protest. “I know your family history as well as you do. Perhaps better.”
“How—”
“Your aunt. It is her favorite subject.” One Emily encouraged. “You say obsession is a family curse, but I don’t believe it.”
“My great-grandfather and the South Seas Bubble.”
“Dozens of men lost fortunes in that debacle, but only one Winters did so – the seventh earl. Look at the rest of his generation. His cousin Jeremy Winters was an explorer who longed to discover new lands. He even participated in several expeditions to South America.”
“I know. The family often laughs at his obsession.”
“Yet he turned down an invitation to join a South Seas voyage because he didn’t want to leave his new wife and child alone, even though there were plenty of family members who could have looked after them while he was gone.”
His lips pursed, but he said nothing.
“And what about the seventh earl’s brother, Thomas? He was known for deep gaming before his marriage. It was said that a man need only rattle dice in the next room to entice him to the table. Yet he turned his back on games after his marriage, handing his wife’s dowry to a banker who multiplied it through sound investments. When he died without issue, his fortune rescued the earldom.”
“It is not the same.”
“Isn’t it? I don’t believe obsession is a trait one can inherit. I do believe the members of your family are passionate about their interests, but that is something else entirely. Some use the so-called Winters curse to justify following their own selfish whims, then disclaim responsibility for the consequences. That may have been your father’s excuse, but you have already demonstrated that you prefer duty. Why else did you try to do right by Harriet?”
“None of my ancestors ignored duty, but they were locked into obsessive behavior despite their responsibilities.”
“No. The ones who came to grief never paid more than lip service to duty. They were stubborn, arrogant men who never admitted fault and continued down their destructive paths even when it was obvious that they must come to grief. But you are not that stubborn. I’ve seen you backtrack when wrong.”
Maybe. Jacob shook his head. God knew he’d made too many mistakes in recent weeks to consider himself infallible. Kissing Emily had been yet another in a long line of—
He stared. Emily had broken off that kiss because she didn’t want him to betray Harriet. But she herself was betraying Charles.
“Why did you let me kiss you?” he demanded.
She blushed. “I wasn’t thinking and—”
“That isn’t like you. Nor is it like you to be furious that I might betray Harriet when you were betraying Charles – and don’t tell me that your betrothal is a lie. I was there when he announced it.”
Her blush deepened. “It was a mistake. Much of what I just told you mirrors what I’d realized about myself. Making a good match is a goal drummed into girls’ heads from the moment of birth. It is a duty for which we train for years, a duty so essential that our entire lives are judged on whether we achieve it. But success in the eyes of the world is not worth tying a decent man to a life of regret. I was trying to decide how to tell him when you fell into the river.”
“You are breaking your betrothal?” He had to have heard wrong. He wanted it too much.
She nodded. “It is awful of me, and it will embroil him in scandal, but remaining together would hurt worse.”
“It would.” He raised a hand to trace her jawline, reveling in the softness of her skin. “It would,” he sighed, sliding an arm around her shoulders.
His mouth covered hers, softly this time, tasting, savoring, licking slowly around her lips. He inhaled her soft sigh as he laid her gently on the grass. This was what he wanted, what he needed, the only thing that could make him complete.
“Jacob?” she asked as his hand moved to her breast to find the nipple puckered from her damp gown.
“I love you,” he said, deepening the kiss. By the time he pulled back, he was panting.
“You do?”
Her heart raced beneath his palm. “You’re my obsession, Emily. Or my passion, if you prefer. I chose not to pursue it once you accepted Charles, because acting on it would dishonor us both.”
“I can’t—”
“What I hated was my slowness to accept the truth. I’ve loved you for ten years, but I convinced myself that I was too young to know my mind. And you were certainly too young to know yours. So I passed it off as gratitude for your friendship. When you came to London, I was so used to that idiocy, that I didn’t think – until the night in Lady Debenham’s garden. I meant to tell you, to court you properly. But Charles—” He clenched his fists.
“I love you, Jacob. I always have.” She smiled up at him.
Her smile put the sun to shame. Happiness bubbled up, bringing a lightness he’d never felt before. He kissed her again, covering her from head to toe, aching as his hips flexed against her. Heat rose until their clothes steamed.
She moaned his name, rolling until she was on top. Her hands framed his face as she stared down at him – and laughed.
“You look like a highwayman, Jacob. Disheveled hair, muddy clothes, scraped face. How can I love you so much?”
“Practice.” He took her mouth, his hands hovering over her ties, itching to open her gown.
Voices brought him to his senses.
“We need to stop before we do something we’ll regret,” he panted, jumping to his feet. A tug brought her to hers. “Where is Cha—”
His voice died as Charles entered the dell, accompanied by a smiling Richard.
Charles examined them from head to foot, missing none of the grass clinging to their damp clothes. “I trust you have an explanation, Em?”
Jacob speared his friend with a piercing glare, then snapped his mouth shut. Satisfaction burned in those green eyes, not anger. Charles knew. And arriving with Richard meant he’d planned this.
He laid a reassuring hand on Emily’s shoulder, then followed Richard into the trees, growling, “You’ll pay for this, Richard.”
* * * *
Emily wanted to crawl into a hole, but that was cowardly. It was bad enough that she must jilt Charles. Having him find her with Jacob might destroy their long friendship. His face was grimmer than ever.
Yet his eyes weren’t.
“Charles.” She stopped, groping for words.
“Spit it out, Em.” He stroked her hand. “We both know the truth.”
“We do?” She shook her head. “I should not have accepted your offer. It was unfair, for I will never be the wife you deserve.”
“You don’t love me?”
She drew a deep breath. “No.”
“I’m glad.”
She stared.
“Let’s both be honest. When you arrived in town, you dazzled me.”
“What?”
“You are a lovely lady, and you had changed so much since I’d last seen you that I fell into an instant infatuation. But it was not truly love. When the flush waned, I was horrified to discover that I feel the same for you as I do for Sophie.”
“Oh, my!”
“Exactly. I love her dearly, but not as a wife.”
“I understand.” She smiled. “You are more a brother than a husband.”
He burst out laughing, draining tension away. She joined in, overcome with relief.
&
nbsp; “Thank you, Em,” he finally gasped, pulling her into an exuberant hug. “I hope we can remain friends, my dear, but I would have made you an abominable husband.”
“And I would have driven you mad in a month. Thank you for being a gentleman.” She met his gaze. “I hope you won’t suffer from it.”
“Never. I’ve enough credit to survive a jilt, especially if we remain friends.”
“Always.”
Releasing her, he raised her hand to his lips as the others returned.
“I trust you’ve settled your affairs,” said Jacob coolly.
“I trust you’ve a betrothal to announce,” added Richard, staring at Jacob.
“Of course. It would be best that she wed as arranged, only with a different groom. You’ll stand up with me, of course.”
“Of course.”
Emily stared. He’d announced a wedding without even proposing! “Haven’t you forgotten something?” she demanded, pulling Jacob around to face her.
“What?”
“Planning a wedding seems rather presumptuous when you’ve neglected to obtain a bride.”
He snapped his mouth shut, shaking his head. “I assumed—”
“Assumptions are dangerous, for half of them are false. That is how we got into this mess to begin with.”
“Very well.” With an exaggerated sigh of vexation, he dropped onto one knee, pulling her hand to his lips. “My dear Miss Hughes. You are the loveliest creature alive, a diamond of the first water who must steal the heart of every man who sees those amber eyes or hears your melodious voice. The sun pales beside…”
Behind him, Richard and Charles rolled their eyes.
Emily paid them no heed. This was better than her best fantasy. Sunlight sparkled from his dark hair, obscuring traces of his recent mishap – or maybe it was the tears of happiness shimmering in her eyes. No one could ever have received a more perfect offer.
“…so please accept my hand in marriage, Em,” he finished, again kissing her fingers. “Let me cherish you as you deserve. Share your wisdom, your love, and your life with me. Forevermore.”
She hesitated, one niggling doubt staying her tongue – probably because she’d used it so often to convince herself that he was unworthy. “Tell me about Lord Raymond Perigord, Jacob. The tales do not fit what I know of you,” she added when his eyes darkened. “But they are pervasive.”
Jacob sucked in a deep breath, relaxing the grip that was suddenly strangling her fingers. “The tales are a mixture of lies and truth, Em. Tell her about it, Charles.”
Charles shook his head. “Lord Raymond is a cheat, Emily. Not because he needs to support himself by fleecing greenlings or bilking honest merchants or paying debts with counterfeit notes. His father is the Duke of Metcalf, and he receives a generous allowance. But Lord Raymond enjoys the excitement of risk.”
“Then why is free?” She’d met the man in several ballrooms.
“His father,” said Richard shortly. “The man is as culpable as his son, if you ask me.”
“No one did,” said Jacob.
“The rumors have the tale topsy-turvy,” said Charles. “Jacob found evidence that Lord Raymond used forged documents to sell land for ten times its value. He was ready to speak to a magistrate about it when Lord Raymond fled the country. We thought that was the end of it, but Lord Raymond returned. By then, the evidence was gone.”
“Gone? You mean stolen?” Emily looked at Jacob.
He shook his head. “The evidence included the forged documents and the testimony of the man who had bought the land. He’d been furious at being cheated. But when I returned to take him to the magistrate, he refused me entrance and claimed it had all been a mistake.”
“Why?”
“He’d resold the land to Metcalf for a tidy profit and handed over the documents. The next day rumors swept Mayfair that I had cheated Lord Raymond out of a parcel of property. I had no way to counter them, especially since there was a parcel I’d recently bought.”
Charles and Richard cursed under their breath.
“So you looked vindictive,” said Emily, squeezing his hand.
“It will pass in time.” He met her gaze. “Why don’t you answer my question now? Will you marry me or not?”
“Yes, Jacob.” She gasped when he bounded to his feet to draw her against his side.
“The kiss comes later, without the audience,” he growled into her ear, then glared at his friends. “Satisfied?”
Richard nodded.
“Good, because I may have to call you out for endangering Emily.”
“She was perfectly safe,” said Charles. “I’ve been to that spot a dozen times. The bank only looks unstable. You could race horses along there without doing any damage.”
“What are you talking about?” demanded Emily.
“They set us up,” Jacob explained. “Charles left you in danger while Richard poured out his fears about your inclination to suicide.”
“What?” She glared at Richard.
“There was no danger!” snapped Charles.
“Then why did the bank collapse?” demanded Jacob. “Three steps, and it tossed me into the river.”
“He nearly drowned,” snarled Emily.
“How—” Richard stared.
“Em jumped in to fish me out.”
“But she can’t swim.”
“Neither can I.”
“What?” Charles stared from Emily to Jacob, then turned to Richard.
“I didn’t know, either.”
“Em did,” said Jacob, pulling her closer.
Guilt sent both Richard and Charles back a step.
“No more plots,” Jacob said bluntly. “You nearly killed us both, and for nothing. She was going to jilt you anyway.”
Emily watched the Beaux rush into apologies as they reforged the friendship that had splintered in recent weeks. It was good to see them together again. She’d feared that Charles and Jacob would suffer from her brief betrothal.
“Come along, Richard,” Charles said at last. “I’ll give you a ride back to town.” He turned to Jacob. “You can bring Emily.”
“Gladly.” The moment the others left, he pulled Emily into his arms. “Now you get your betrothal kiss.”
This one was even better, Emily decided hazily as every bone in her body melted. Knowing that he loved her and acknowledging her love aloud banished the last doubt, allowing passion free rein. Sparks ignited fires that swelled to consume her flesh. Her heart raced, trying to batter its way out of her chest. Moans burst from her throat, begging for more, though she lacked the words to explain what she needed. His kiss was everything she had expected, everything promised in ten years of dreams, everything love should be.
“I love you,” he murmured in her ear when he paused to catch his breath. “Never doubt my love. The last fortnight has been dreadful.”
“And never doubt mine,” she said, smiling as he pulled her against his side and headed toward his curricle. “You were right that I was too young ten years ago, but I did know my mind.”
“I’ll apologize for that charge, then.” He paused before they left the trees to kiss her one last time, then brushed the grass from her gown. She smoothed the wrinkles from his jacket. Confident that they would appear proper from a distance, they stepped into the open.
“So tell me about our wedding,” he said, offering his arm. “What do you have planned?”
“Small,” she said, shaking her head. “But perhaps we should expand it. Gather every gossip in town so they get the facts straight. You don’t need more twisted rumors.”
He laughed. “Perfect, my love. With Richard and Charles at our side and Lady Inslip assisting your mother, we will nip any scandal in the bud. We’ll hold the breakfast at Hawthorne House,” he added as they reached his curricle.
“Perfect.” Raising on tiptoe, she kissed him tenderly, then let him lift her onto the seat. The grinning groom leaped up behind as the team trotted toward the road, heading
for the future Jacob had thought was forever out of reach.
A grin suddenly split his face. Challenging his friends was impossible, but he could still take his revenge…
Copyright © 2003 by Susan Ann Pace
Originally published by Signet Regency (0451209923)
Electronically published in 2007 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.