Chapter 7
THE earl reined in his borrowed horse at Wyndemere’s front steps, Emily perched awkwardly atop his saddle. The Porters were promenading with guests on the white clamshell garden paths. Not seeing Emily since breakfast, they now hurried toward the front entrance. When a footman sped down the front steps, Gavin threw him the reins and slid off the animal’s broad rump. Turning to Emily, she leaned over and grasped his shoulders as he swung her down. Unthinking, he pressed her lush body tight against his for a few enticing moments.
He rode into Toynton-under-Hill to satisfy his curiosity and look what happened? Now her youthful allure bedazzled him, stirring things he had no business feeling or considering.
The earl’s grip tightened on Emily’s waist. “Can you stand by yourself, Emily?”
Emily tilted her head backward, glancing up at him, her crystal eyes luminous with questions. Their gazes connected, and Gavin’s dark eyes captured hers. Concern continued to furrow his brow.
She blinked and lowered her gaze to his leather gloves still clamped on her waist.
“You may let me go now, my lord. As you can see, I’m quite recovered.”
“Perhaps you only think you are," he retorted. "I am not certain that I am.”
She was the only person who heard his remark.
“And, Emily, don’t you dare leave here before week’s end, or I shall find you and drag you back by the hair.” His chocolate eyes glistened as he smiled.
Oh my, is the earl teasing me? Emily gulped. Something very strange is going on here. I only wish I knew what it is.
Right now, Emily simply wanted to lay her head on a plump, goose down pillow. Her skull hurt more now than when she first banged it. She needed a short nap and a headache powder, or she couldn’t face this evening.
“Now, young lady,” Gavin demanded, “take hold of my arm and I will escort you to your room.”
* * * *
Minutes after the door to Emily’s room closed, Wilma knocked and entered from the adjoining bedchamber. She hesitated in the doorway, uncertain whether Emily was indeed uninjured. “Emmie, Harry and I were worried to death. What happened? Where have you been? We asked, but nobody saw you since early this morning.”
“Oh, Willy, I’m so sorry to cause you upset, truly I am. I should have left a note, but…well, I didn’t think. I started to walk toward the village to visit my relatives’ graves. Betsy showed me to a rear exit, or I might have looked forever.” Emily smiled bravely and clasped her friend’s hands. “I apologize for not letting you know, Willy.”
“But why were you on Leathem’s horse just now? Harry and I were sure something bad happened to you.”
“It did…I mean something occurred that I didn’t expect.”
“What are you saying?”
Emily pulled on Wilma’s hand and coaxed her toward a small settee so they could sit down. Emily glanced up and saw Harry leaning in the doorway. “Come in, Lord Harry. You may as well hear this, so I won’t need to repeat it.” Emily took a long breath then went on to describe what had happened on the wilderness path.
“Good heavens, Em!” Wilma exclaimed afterward. “You could have been killed!”
“That’s what Lord Leathem said. At first he was quite angry with me.” Emily rolled her eyes. “There would have been worst trouble if I hadn’t done what I did. The earl and his horse could have crashed into fallen tree limbs blocking the path if they kept going.”
“Bloody hell, Miss Emily!” Harry said, forgetting himself. “Forgive my language, but I have to bless your foresight. And your courage. Leathem is not angry after what happened, is he? If so, I’ll speak to him. My God, you saved him a nasty fall…or a serious injury.”
Emily smiled wanly and replied, “Yes, well, his lordship did scold me, insisting I see a physician, but I told him I didn’t need to see anyone. Afterward he apologized. Several times.”
“I should hope so,” Willy commented, looking aghast. “Wait a minute.” Her plucked eyebrows arched. “That’s why you were on the earl’s horse. You were injured. Oh, Emily, dear, where? How bad? Tell us!”
“Unh, well, I…fell…and I bumped my head.”
Wilma quickly leaned over and ran fingers over the back of Emily’s skull. “Oh good grief, yes, you must see a doctor. The earl is correct. You have a lump back there. I’ll ask the duchess who we should summon to look at it.”
“No, no, Wilma, please don’t. It’s nothing. I begged the earl not to summon anyone here to examine me,” Emily pleaded. “He was not happy, but he promised he would not.”
Wilma caught Lord Harry’s eye. He shook his head. She sighed, still looking worried. Taking Emily’s hand and stroking it, she said, “Well, there is a lump…although not a very large one, but—”
“You see, I told you, Willy,” Emily jumped in. “Now you must forget it.” She looked around, trying not to wince when she turned her head too quickly. “I do need a headache powder though, if you have one. My head is throbbing some.”
“All right, dear, I have something to fix that, but are you really sure…”
“Yes. I don’t need a doctor,” Emily murmured. “I’ll take a short nap, and my headache will be gone by suppertime.”
Wilma left to rummage in a medicine kit that she traveled with. Meanwhile, Emily’s fingers fussed over her soiled and wrinkled gown. “What are Wilma and you doing for entertainment later, Lord Harry?”
“Cards and billiards for us men,” the viscount said, his shoulder still propped against the door jamb. “Some men went for a gallop earlier, but they should be back soon. Wilma wants to sit and visit with ladies she knows from Town.”
Wilma returned with a glass of cloudy liquid. “Drink this down right away, Em. It will ease your hurt quite rapidly.” She turned to her husband. “Harry, luncheon is set for one o’clock on the terrace, isn’t it?
“Right, m’dear.” Porter nodded.
“Emily, stay here, dear, and lie down and rest. I will have luncheon send up on a tray.”
“Umm…yes, thank you. That would be nice. I’m famished. I ate only a light breakfast.”
“I will stay and sit with you.”
“There’s no need. Take luncheon on the terrace. It’s lovely outside.” Emily turned toward the viscount. “You, too, Lord Harry. A little quiet time, a brief nap, and Wilma’s medicine will cure my headache.”
Emily turned back to Wilma. “Don’t worry about me, please. Enjoy the festivities. It’s why you came here.”
Wilma stooped and pressed a kiss on Emily’s forehead. “I am still worried about you, Emmie. I’ll have Betsy look in on you later.”
“Thank you, Willy, I need a good friend like you.” Emily smiled up at Wilma and included Harry. “I’ll see you both at supper.”
* * * *
It turned out the bump on her head was more difficult to cure than was expected. Emily nibbled at food on the lunch tray when a wave of dizziness claimed her. She sought her bed and gratefully lay her head atop the goose down pillows, sighing, “Ooh, this feels so much better.” She groaned softly and stretched out full length.
Sometime later, Betsy popped in on Emily. “Yer head still hurts, Miss?”
“I’m afraid so, Betsy. Lady Wilma gave me something, but it hasn’t helped.”
“You must have hit your head harder that you thought. Stay where you are, and I’ll help ye outta your gown. Later I’ll sponge off the grass stains and give it a thorough pressing.”
Betsy bustled around the bed. “And if you ain’t feelin’ better t’morrow, Miss Emily, I think Lady Wilma should call somebody to look at that goose egg on the back of your head.”
Emily sighed aloud. “I don’t need a doctor. And I hate to miss the entertainment. I won’t have an opportunity like this again.”
“One day ain’t gonna make a big diff’rence, Miss Emily. Them young gents what was flockin’ round you t’other evening will all be here for four o
r five days more. You can choose one of them to spend time with when you feel better.”
I already know who, but he is far above me. A country girl in a peer’s world will never mesh.
Betsy left Emily wearing only her chemise, and tenderly tucking the bed-sheet and coverlet around her. Wilma’s headache potion finally took effect, and Emily’s eyelids drooped and then closed. “I really need a nap, Betsy,” she murmured sleepily. “Wake me when it is time to dress for the evening.”
Betsy spoke with Wilma later that afternoon. They tiptoed into Emily’s room together. She was deep asleep, her breathing slow and quiet.
“If it were me, m’lady,” the maid whispered, “I’d let Miss Emily sleep the night through. She’ll feel a lot better when she awakes up t’morrow.”
“I put a few drops of laudanum in the water with the headache powder. I don’t think she’ll wake much before morning. So, yes, let her be. But check on her during the evening, will you?”
“O’course, m’lady. I’ll keep her company if she does wake.”
“Good.”
* * * *
In the big four poster, Emily fought to come awake from a terrifying nightmare. Half asleep and half awake, her nerves twanged like stretched violin strings. Fear speared through her; her heart pounded, afraid it may leap out of her chest. Her forehead was damp with a slick sheen of perspiration. Nausea almost had her casting up her accounts. An image of the Tower of London penetrated her consciousness. In the dream she had been standing outside it, and Eustace was inside cursing her. Her nightmare was so vivid, so real, her heart thumped fiercely against her ribcage. As if stung by a bee, she jolted awake. Pain quickly knifed the back of her head. She pressed shaking fingertips against her temples. A low moan squeezed out from between her trembling lips.
Oh God!
Several taps on her bedchamber door finally penetrated to her consciousness. She blinked, confused. For a moment she wasn’t sure where she was until she remembered what happened. She had been strolling along the wilderness path when a galloping horse almost ran her down. She fell and bumped her head. Hard.
Her wits slowly pulled together, and she choked out, “W-Who’s there?”
“It’s Leathem here. May I come in?”
Emily hesitated.
Why is the earl at my door?
“Emily, I know you’re awake. I need to speak with you.”
What does he want? He already apologized for what happened.
A second thought jumped into her head.
Perhaps something has happened to Lilianne!
“Y-yes, unh, give me a moment, Lord Leathem. I-I was asleep. I need to get dressed…”
“Put on something simple, Emily. I’ll wait, but hurry.”
Emily’s senses whirled, but not necessarily from the bump on her head. Remnants of her nightmare, anxiety and fear of her uncle remained to plague her. Glancing around the dimly lit room, she didn’t know if it was day or night. Heavy drapes covered the window. Soft light from a single oil lamp flickered intermittently on the table next to the bed until she spotted a china clock. She blinked at the time. Night or day? Even so, why was the earl knocking on her door?
Emily eased her bruised body out of bed cautiously, her feet dangling off the side. She felt only dull aches, although her head seemed stuffed with lamb’s wool.
Betsy had left a dressing gown lying across the foot of the bed. Emily slipped her arms into the sleeves, wrapping the rose-colored silk around her and knotting the sash. A length of hair had escaped its hairpins while she slept; she hadn’t taken time to plait it before falling into a disturbing slumber. She couldn’t do anything about it now, so she tossed the long strands over her shoulders and toed bare feet into felt slippers. She hesitated first, attempted a few steps until she reached the settee safely. Awkwardly, she plopped down atop the cushions. She didn’t feel quite so lightheaded; and her mind seemed a bit more settled. Clearing her throat, Emily then called out, “You may come in now, your lordship.”
Gavin entered quickly, easing the door shut behind him as his eyes adjusting to the dimly lit room. Emily was seated on a settee surrounded by an orange glow from a single oil lamp. His glance flickered to her before he crossed the carpet, halted in front of her, and said, “Ah, you appear much recuperated.”
Emily didn’t rise to greet him. If they were in London, she would do so, of course. There he had been her employer—here in Surrey they were both guests of the duke and duchess.
“Has something happened to Lilianne, my lord? Is that why you’re here?” she asked anxiously, her gaze fixed on his bronzed countenance.
“Lilianne? No, not as far as I know. I believe she is safe with my Aunt Lydia, and I hope, enjoying herself. Why would it be otherwise?”
“I don’t know. I just thought…I mean…why are you here?”
“I came because I was worried about you. I wished to know—well, since you weren’t at supper. Nor did I see you at the evening’s festivities. I wondered if you had recuperated from your…our…mishap. After all, you badgered me not to summon a physician. And so far, I haven’t done so.”
“Lord Leathem, as you can see, I am much better now—”
He quickly interrupted her. “Gavin. My name is Gavin. Use it here, Emily.” A sharp edge of male chauvinism tinted his deep baritone.
“I’d rather not, my lord,” she responded, bravely. “In a few more days we’ll be back in London. You’ll again be my employer, and I’ll be Lilianne’s governess.”
Gavin inched closer, looking down at her. “Would you like that to change, Emily?”
Flipping the tails of his evening jacket out of the way, he lowered himself onto the settee beside her.
She edged away from him slightly, her brow puckering when she asked, “I don’t understand what you mean?”
Gavin abruptly reached over and picked up one of her hands, capturing it in his large one. “I’m here to offer you a new position.”
An abbreviated silence floated between them.
“But…why? I like what I’m—”
Quickly, the earl’s words overrode her. “I should explain myself more thoroughly. I’m offering you a promotion—a worthwhile business proposition.”
“Still, sir, I don’t comprehend—”
“Of course you don’t. And you won’t. Until you hear what I proposed.” Gavin gently squeezed Emily’s fingers. “Hear me out, please, and then think about it before you decide to answer me. Will you do that?”
Emily unconsciously leaned toward him when he grabbed her hand. His dark brown gaze stared into her crystalline eyes as if to read her thoughts. Gavin’s thumb caressed her knuckles, bare skin against bare skin. An odd sensation crawled along Emily’s arm beneath the silk of her kimono. Goose bumps prickled on her forearm, traveled across her chest, up her throat, and heated her cheeks with a rosy glow. Emily tried to pry her fingers from Gavin’s grasp, but he squeezed her fingers tightly and held on, keeping her from fighting him. Discomposed by his persistence, she dared not make an issue of it. So, she permitted her hand to remain in his.
“Do you remember our discussion in my London study about the Tattler?”
Emily nodded, watching his face. “Of course.” How could she forget? She had blurted out a wild, rather convoluted confession about her uncle and his misbehavior, and what she planned to do about it.
Openly smiling, Gavin said, “We also mentioned a certain London dandy if you’ll recall.”
Emily had the sudden distinct impression that a certain status between them had all but disappeared. Leathem seemed like a real person. Not an earl or an aristocrat.
“A young man in which you seemed rather interested. Am I correct?”
Her gaze never left his face, and again, Emily nodded, this time more slowly.
“I wondered if you still harbor an affection for that young man?”
What was the earl getting at?
His voice
was calm, but his tone was clipped and precise. She knew he expected her to answer him. Emily told Leathem last week that Kendall and she were no longer friendly. But that’s all she told him. Anyway, it is none of Leathem’s business, Emily thought, irked that the earl should have the gall to probe her personal life. Nevertheless, she answered, “Anthony Kendall, you mean?”
Gavin nodded, awaiting her reply.
“I believe his family would rather Kendall not be seen with me until such time as my uncle’s scandal cools down. Tony would never go against his parents’ wishes.”
“Thank you, Emily, for your candor. But it isn’t exactly what I asked. I simply wondered if you still feel a fondness for young Kendall?”
Now Emily really hesitated. Tony’s name hadn’t invaded her mind for several days. She determined to squash any feelings she may have had for him the day she walked out the tearoom. And it seemed she had forgotten him—like coal smoke evaporating in a brisk breeze.
“No, my lord. None,” she answered, truthfully. “When Kendall and I parted, I never wanted to see him again. Ever.”
“Good.”
There was a long pause when neither of them spoke. The earl lowered his chin and stared at their fingers wrapped together as he continued to stroke over her knuckles. When he looked up, a frown marred his forehead.
“Is there anything else you wish to ask me, Lord Leathem?”
“Yes. I want you to call me Gavin.”
“I know, but what else?”
“I want you to marry me, Emily Dancy.”
Emily was in shock.
“Marry you?” Emily felt a swift, powerful jolt to her solar plexus, knocking the wind out of her even as she blurted, “B-but why would you ask me to be your wife?”
His chiseled countenance appeared somewhat amused although the earl’s dark gaze never wavered. Then his solemn, aristocratic mien turned serious, a very different look changing his expression.
“I believe you are someone I can depend upon, even someone as young as you are. I need your help. Lilianne needs to be launched on London’s Marriage Mart next month. It’s not proper for me, a bachelor, to do so. I need a suitable female to sponsor her.”
The Marriage Bargain Page 10