Gavin went on. “I hoped to persuade my aunt to do the honors. Turns out, she broke an ankle a few days ago. It is too difficult for her now to get around.”
Emily unconsciously drew in a deep breath.
“My aunt suggested that I seek a wife to help launch Lilianne. I thought about it while I rode here. Of course, I didn’t expect you to be here. But it came to me rather quickly how perfect you would be for the position. You wouldn’t make a hash of it. You polished some of Lilianne’s necessary manners and deportment already. My aunt will take things a bit further—additional upper class training and society decorum. Lilianne will need it when she is out in public among London’s aristocrats.”
Emily shook her head—still shocked by Leathem’s out-of-the-blue marriage proposition. The notion of marrying someone so much older and someone who didn’t love her wasn’t something she expected to face. Leathem mentioned marriage, but it sounded more like a business agreement. He described it much the same way he did when he hired her. She was more than happy to accept the governess’s position, but this…this was something else. Marriage was a lifelong commitment that he was suggesting.
No. The earl’s offer was preposterous. She couldn’t possibly act upon it.
But if she refused him, would he sack her? She’d be back in London looking for new employment. But with whom? She knew no one in London except Wilma. And she had spent the bulk of her savings for a new wardrobe and had little left to keep her in food and lodgings. Then what?
Emily sat quietly after the earl left her and went into the hallway and closed the door behind him. Her stomach grumbled softly as she started shaking, both inside and out.
Her scary nightmare also gave her more second thoughts. If her uncle escaped the Tower—and in her dream he promised he would escape—he might drag her back to White Chapel until she became of age and he could claim her inheritance. Worse than that! What if he paid his debts by using her to bargain with his disreputable cronies? Oh dear God!
She thought herself safe in Mayfair, but he easily found her there. Then, she thought if she were promised to Tony Kendall, his name and family would protect her. She had almost convinced herself that she had fallen in love with him. What a mistake that was! Kendall didn’t care one whit for her. He was a philanderer—a London cad!
Emily’s mind twirled, and reminded her Leathem didn’t love her any more than she loved him. But if she married him, his name would protect her. She pressed her bruised spine against the back of the small settee, black-and-blue and painful because of her fall.
Before the earl left she asked Leathem for more time to decide. She wanted to discuss it with Wilma. Emily glanced at the china clock. It was well after midnight. The earl had knocked on her door a half hour ago and left soon after he made his offer. Were the party’s festivities still in full swing? Another light tap on her door had Emily’s heart leaping back up into her throat. Had the earl returned so soon for his answer?
“C-come in?”
“Well, now, Miss Emily,” Betsy said, bustling into the room. “I was going to bed, but Lady Wilma asked me to look in on you before I did so.” She smiled warmly and went to straighten the rumpled bedclothes Emily had emerged from less than an hour ago. “Ye made it to the settee I see. Oh, dear me, did ye need my help, and I wasn’t here?”
“No, no, Betsy, I felt better after you left me. I’m…almost well, really. All I needed was a few hours rest.”
“Aye, I’m glad of it then. Is there else I can do for ye till mornin’?”
“I think not. Truly. I’ll be all right."
“Best ye get back to bed though, Miss Emily. Sleep the night through. ’Twill do ye good. Come,” she coaxed, “I’ll tuck ye in. Do ye want me to fix ye a tisane to help ye go back to sleep?”
“No, but thank you, Betsy. You’ve been very kind.”
A tisane will only fog my mind. I need to think. And I must talk with Wilma.
“Do you know if Lady Wilma and Lord Harry have retired?”
“I helped my lady to undress, so I believe so. Lord Harry came in moments ago. I left and stopped in here before going to bed.”
“Well, then, I’ll say goodnight to you, Betsy.”
The little maid helped Emily to the big four poster and tucked the bedclothes around her. “I’ll leave one lamp lit, Miss Emily. Should I wake ye t’morrow morning, or should I let ye sleep in?”
“I will probably be awake by myself, Betsy, but don’t let me sleep too long.”
“All right, Miss. I’ll peek in before I bring ye something to eat to start yer day.” She patted Emily’s arm, fondly. “I’m real glad ye got better so quick.”
“So am I,” Emily murmured.
Tomorrow, I may have to decide on the rest of my life.
Chapter 8
EMILY was waiting on pins and needles for Wilma when Betsy knocked on her door and opened it a smidge. Seeing her charge pacing, the lady’ maid quickly brought in a breakfast tray. “I brung you a pot of hot chocolate and a few sweet buns, Miss Emily. Ye didn’t eat much last eve.”
“Yes, I know, and I’m hungry. Can you ask someone to bring me a jug of hot water? I was too woozy yesterday to wash, but I’d like to do so.”
Betsy yanked on a bell pull. Within minutes, a footman knocked on Emily’s door. Betsy met him in the hall and ordered enough water for a hip bath. Returning, she went to the large oak wardrobe. “What gown shall I lay out for you this morning, Miss Emily?” Betsy’s brow wrinkled. “The gown ye wore yestiddy was real pretty, trimmed with all that lovely ecru lace. It’s clean, but it needs mending. I did my best to fix it. Ye must’ve got caught it on thorns or somethin’.”
Emily remembered fighting her way through thick bushes, her lace trim ripping as she ducked through them to warn a rider about impending disaster. “Yes, I’m very fond of it. If you can mend the tattered lace, I’d appreciate it.” Her expression wry, Emily smiled at the young woman. “The sprigged muslin will be fine. Today, I’ll try not to damage it.”
“Is yer head bothering ye still, Miss?”
“The lump seems smaller, but please go easy when you brush my hair. My skull is quite tender.” Then Emily pressed a fingertip against her bottom lip. “Perhaps, I’ll leave my hair down. Why stick hairpins in my sore scalp? There’s no need to fuss anyway, because I may not leave here until much later. I am anxious to speak with Lady Wilma as soon as she awakens. Will you let her know that, Betsy?”
“Aye, that I will.”
* * * *
Harry Porter kissed his wife before joining male guests and few hearty female equestriennes for a gallop over the Surrey countryside. A ruined abbey on the northwest border of the duke’s enormous estate was their target for exploration this fine morning.
Gavin joined the guests for a morning’s gallop as well. Pegasus was rested, and he cantered the stallion across the rolling fields. As riders dismounted, Harry Porter joined Gavin walking toward the crumbling walls of the abbey’s gray stone edifice.
“I say, Leathem, m’wife told me about your close call. Could have been rather messy, eh what?”
Gavin took the bait. “What did you hear, Porter?”
“Just that your horse almost trampled Emily Da—”
“Blast it, hold on! That wasn’t my horse I was on,” Gavin spat out. “I borrowed a mount from the duke’s stables.”
“I also heard you scolded her rather roughly even though she saved you from a disastrous tumble.”
“Get the facts straight, Porter,” Gavin snapped back, halting them in their meandering walk. The earl sounded decidedly irritated. “If you must know, Miss Dancy jumped out of bushes on the wilderness path without warning and flapped her bonnet at the horse’s head. She frightened the damned antsy gelding into rearing. It would never have happened if I’d been on Pegasus. Besides, I had no idea it was Miss Dancy when she lay flat on her back in the middle of the path with her face covered.” Gavin frowned, th
en paused. “By the way, how the devil did she come to be invited to the duke’s party anyhow?”
“My lady wife and Emily are bosom bows, Leathem. Both grew up in the nearby village of Toynton-under-Hill.”
“Yes, I know where she grew up. She told me when I hired her. I didn’t know, however, that’s where your wife grew up as well. I visited the hamlet earlier yesterday. That’s when I spotted a shortcut back to Carlisle’s stables. So I took it.”
“Oh? Why were you at the village?”
“Curiosity is why, Porter.” Gavin wasn’t about to spill his reasons to Porter, friend or not.
“M’wife’s family still lives nearby. We planned to visit them here until we learned they’d gone off to Scotland b’cause Wilma’s sister is recuperating. That’s why your Miss Dancy is our invited guest at Carlisle’s party. Wilma insisted I invite her with us when I accepted the Carlisle’s invitation.”
“She’s not my Miss Dancy, Porter.”
Not yet, at least.
“She’s my ward’s governess,” Gavin responded. “She told me she bumped into your wife on Regent Street last week. She asked for time off to visit your wife, but I had no idea Surrey was where she ended up.”
“Are you still in a bad temper with Miss Emily, Leathem? I’d like to know b’cause I’m fond of her.”
“No, just the opposite, Porter. And…well…because much of what occurred yesterday was my fault. I was reckless, not thinking nor keeping my eyes open. I made my apologies to her since then.”
“Jolly good, then.” Harry smiled and strolled along beside the earl. “Ain’t this dratted abbey gloomy-looking?” Harry commented, eyeing the remaining tower. “What say we take a gander at what’s inside? That one bloody tower looks a bit shaky though. The abbey was built in the early 1600s, and I suspect most of the walls inside are falling down. Best be careful.”
Gavin and Harry joined the rest of the explorers, but the earl’s mind wandered during the next hour or so. He again mulled over his conversation last night with Emily, still thinking about her. He was anxious to speak with her again…and push for his offer.
* * * *
The friends sat side by side on the same settee Emily and the earl had shared last night. “The earl asked you to marry him?” Wilma inquired. “Oh my God! How in the world did that happen, Emmie? And when? I thought you were still asleep.”
“I was half asleep when I heard tapping on the hall door. I thought it was you. But Leathem asked permission to enter.” Emily inhaled a short breath. “He said he was worried about me. We talked briefly, and then he asked about my feelings for Anthony Kendall.”
“That scoundrel!” Wilma grumped, her brow wrinkling. “Did you tell him what happened with Kendall?”
“Of course I told him. I wasn’t going to at first, because I thought Leathem had a lot of gall probing my personal life. But then, I thought, what’s the difference? Tony and I are…definitely quits.”
“Goodness. Do go on, Em. Tell me everything.”
“Leathem needs someone to launch his ward onto London’s Marriage Market.”
“But you’re her governess—”
“I know. But he needs more than a governess. Someone better connected to sponsor her. Someone with more consequence. He expected his aunt would do it, but she broke an ankle and can’t get around. He needs…a lady…or at least, someone almost a lady.” Emily paused. “He thought I would suit.”
“Well, you are a lady although you are currently employed as a governess. You look, speak, and behave like a lady. Why shouldn’t you be perfect? Remember your mother’s gentle upbringing.”
“It’s too bizarre, Willy. This shouldn’t happen to an earl, not with someone like me,” Emily said, earnestly, her blue eyes fastened on her friend’s face. “It is out of the question.” Emily’s smooth brow hatched a few frown lines. “And I would only be a “convenient wife.”
“I can’t fathom what the earl is thinking, but, good grief, Em, a marriage of convenience? Will you accept that? I know what you said you wanted a long time ago. But things change…” Wilma’s attention never flagged, but her blue eyes blazed with concern.
Emily raised a hand to stop her. “Leathem explained the terms of our “marriage bargain.” He never planned to remarry, Wilma, but now it’s necessary. With me living under his roof, he understood that eyebrows may be raised by the ton’s grande dames and may endanger Lilianne’s come out. Our marriage would take care of that problem.”
“I know what you mean, Em, but…” Wilma emitted an audible sigh “Can you live with a marriage of convenience?”
“I know what I said about marriage. But why not, Willy? It is only another business agreement. Between him and me. Just like a marriage contract between you and Lord Harry—only without emotion or love to muddy the waters. As soon as the season ends and Lilianne is betrothed or possibly wed, we can even stay under the same roof, and lead separate lives without interference from one another.”
“I couldn’t live like that,” Wilma murmured, gazing deep into her friend’s eyes. “But I have something to confess, too.” Wilma stood up abruptly and paced around the small bedchamber. “My parents had engineered the match between Harry and me, Em. And right off I wasn’t pleased about it, I must tell you.”
“Oh?” Emily’s expression changed into surprise. “But, I thought—”
Her friend stopped in front of her. “When I married Harry, I was definitely not in love with him. I scarcely knew him. Nor was he in love with me.” Wilma clasped her hands together. “But that soon changed. Oh, Emmie! I do love him now—so terribly much!”
“How? When did that happen? Can you give me a reason?”
“I think so.” Wilma reseated herself beside her friend. “I’ll start at the beginning.” She inhaled and smiled. “You see, Harry is older than he looks. He was three and thirty when I met him two years ago. That’s when he inherited the title and decided it was time for him to find a wife.”
Wilma leaned in close and winked. “Men are like that, Emmie. They procrastinate and diddle around until they are nagged into doing something. His grandmother badgered Harry until he came to Town to seek a “suitable” wife. As luck would have it, I was the one he fixed his attentions on.”
Wilma’s mouth tilted up at the corners as she recalled how odd it was they met at all. “It was the last ball of the season, a rather uninspiring gala at the Rice’s. My parents were not happy because I hadn’t received a marriage offer, so they decided to send regrets since Papa wanted us to leave London the next day.”
Emily nodded, listening intently.
“Because of Napoleon, England’s economy has suffered frightful losses. Never ending warfare drained the King’s coffers. Not that I knew much about it, but I heard Papa telling Mama that probably we couldn’t come to Town for another Season unless things got better.”
Wilma lowered her gaze, her fingertips smoothing over a satin ribbon trimming the high waist of her filmy, muslin gown. “We went to the Rice’s ball after all. My dance card wasn’t even half full when Harry Porter requested two dances.” Wilma chuckled. “Can you imagine? I had been introduced to him only briefly, but he initialed two sets!”
Wilma patted Emily’s wrist. “The next day, Harry called on us, so Papa decided to stay in Town a bit longer. Well, Harry kept coming back for an entire week. He drove me into Hyde Park each day in his fancy curricle—and we talked. He didn’t even kiss me, Emmie. Well, just on my fingertips. But instead of speaking to me first, he approached my father. That was when he offered for me. I was fond of him by then, Emily, but I scarcely knew him. I certainly didn’t love him, and I didn’t think he was in love with me either.”
Willy clucked her tongue. “Well, it’s a very different story now.” She grinned. “I don’t know what I would do without my Harry.” Wilma paused. “Besides, I have something else to tell you."
“What is it, Wilma?”
“I’m
increasing, Em! I just found out! Harry is over the top, and so am I. I wondered for months if having a babe would ever happen. We kept trying.” Wilma giggled. “So, you see, my marriage offer was a little like the one you received last night, but for different reasons.” Wilma sighed and squeezed Emily’s fingers. “You can’t know how wonderfully well my marriage turned out. Harry is…a lovely man. I’m so glad and very happy he chose me to be his wife.”
“Oh, Wilma, I knew. I could tell. Do you think—”
“I won’t even guess, my dear friend, but love happens when you least expect it. I know because it happened to me.”
Emily sighed, leaning against the curved wood frame of the settee. She gazed across the room as if staring into a future with the earl. You said you and Harry are ten years apart. Young brides marry older men all the time, right?”
Wilma smiled. “Yes, women our age often marry men old enough to be our fathers—or even our grandfathers—mostly those needing an heir. Thank goodness, at last Harry and I took care of that!” Wilma grinned, happily. “I do hope it’s a boy! And besides, Emmie, your earl is not old,” Wilma went on. “He is in his prime like Harry. Perhaps…oh, dear me…” Wilma blinked. “I’m still at a loss to advise you, truly I am. I would love it if you and I ran in the same circles the way we used to when we were girls.”
“If I accept his offer, he wants us to be married within days. “What can you tell me about Lord Gavin Fielding?” Emily asked abruptly.
“Not much, I’m afraid. Harry mentioned a few things about Leathem’s life. He was married, Em—very young—before he was made Earl Leathem.”
“I never read anything about him in the Tattler.”
The viscountess squeezed Emily’s hand. “Well, I saw the earl only once, very briefly. He appeared somewhat…standoffish…even intimidating. He’s nothing like my Harry.”
“I know what you mean, Willy, but he isn’t really anything like that. But do go on.”
The Marriage Bargain Page 11