by Diana Bold
* * *
Michael strode from the dining room toward his father’s suite of rooms. His righteous anger and indignation grew with each measured step. The bastard.
The earl’s childish tantrum had obviously hurt Emma’s feelings. He’d be lucky if she didn’t decide to call the engagement off.
Who could blame her? She’d agreed to this marriage in good faith, only to be humiliated by her future father-in-law.
Michael was all too aware of the ease with which an engagement that hadn’t been formally announced could be broken. He refused to allow that to happen to him again.
Without bothering to knock, he flung open his father’s sitting room door. Inside, the earl lounged in front of the fireplace, sipping a brandy as he read the Times.
Although he’d expected as much, Michael’s stomach clenched with betrayal. “Have you forgotten we have guests for dinner, Father?”
The earl glanced up. “Do we? It must’ve slipped my mind.”
Michael clenched his hands into fists behind his back and fought to maintain control. “I’m well aware of your feelings regarding Miss Marks. But I expect you to do me the courtesy of treating my fiancée with the respect she deserves.”
The earl glared at him, then returned his attention to the paper.
“Must I remind you once again of the precariousness of our situation?” Michael ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Do we have to lose everything before you’ll admit I have no choice but to marry Miss Marks?”
The earl tossed aside his paper in sudden fury. “You had another choice. You could have married Lady Natalia.”
Michael shook his head, amazed by his father’s persistence. “What angers you more? That I didn’t wed Natalia or that Dylan did? Why can’t you let go of your hatred and wish him well?”
The earl’s blue eyes flashed dangerously as he stood and advanced toward Michael. “You’re the one who told him your grandfather left him Aldabaran, aren’t you? You had no right.”
Michael had only recently discovered that Dylan had been unaware of his inheritance. He’d done what he could to rectify the situation.
“Why did you try to keep him from knowing?” he countered. “Wouldn’t it have been far easier to simply tell him? Surely, you knew how much he wanted land of his own.”
“You don’t understand anything,” the earl snarled. “The two of you sicken me.”
Michael sighed, weary and disgusted with himself for letting the earl drag him into this old familiar fight. “Are you going to come down and meet Miss Marks, or will you force me to apologize for your deplorable behavior?”
The earl smiled suddenly, the transformation from fury to pleasure almost frightening to behold. “I’ll come down and meet the chit. But in the end, you may have cause to wish I hadn’t.”
* * *
“Father, may I present my fiancée, Miss Emma Marks? Miss Marks, my father, William Blake, Lord Warren.” Michael performed the introductions as though nothing was amiss, but Emma was all too aware of the tension between the two men.
She steeled herself when the earl—a white-haired, older version of Michael—stepped forward. “Miss Marks,” he murmured, bowing stiffly.
For one chilling moment, Emma saw far too much of her fiancé in Lord Warren’s unwelcoming gaze. Was Michael destined to be this harsh and feeling?
Not if I can help it.
Remembering her manners, Emma dropped into an awkward curtsy, her grace impaired by the knowledge that Michael had obviously dragged the earl to dinner against his will. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lord Warren.”
The earl frowned and turned toward Jane and Lord Basingstoke. “Shall we go down to dinner?”
Stunned by the earl’s obvious contempt, Emma took Michael’s proffered arm and allowed him to escort her down to the first-floor dining room.
The room was large, well lit, and very masculine. Lavish silver and crystal place settings graced the huge table, and the paintings on the paneled walls depicted various hunting scenes.
Once they were seated, a servant appeared and poured the wine. Emma took a few bracing sips, hoping the earl would warm to her eventually. She was glad to have Michael at her side and longed to reach for the comforting clasp of his hand beneath the cover of the fine linen tablecloth.
Warren lifted his wine glass and peered at her over the rim. “I suppose congratulations are in order, though I must admit I’m still somewhat… startled by my son’s choice. I didn’t raise Sherbourne to marry beneath him.”
Heat rose in Emma’s cheeks at the earl’s disparaging remark. She’d hoped her future father-in-law would at least make a show of civility. For his son’s sake, if nothing else.
She risked a quick glance in Michael’s direction. Except for a small knot of tension on the ridge of his jaw, her fiancé appeared completely composed.
Betrayal knifed at Emma’s heart. She’d expected Michael to rush to her defense. She’d wanted him to inform his father that he held her in high regard, that he did not consider her beneath him in any way.
“I dare say, concerns about Emma’s background are rather moot at this point.” Michael spoke with his usual calm, a steely hard edge entering his voice. “You and I both know why it was necessary for Miss Marks and I to enter into this arrangement. Don’t we, Father?”
Something of her dismay must’ve shown in her face, because she saw sympathy in both Jane and Julian’s eyes as they awkwardly busied themselves with their wine.
Humiliated, she struggled to emulate Michael’s calm demeanor. “Of course. This is merely a business arrangement and should be treated as such.”
“I’m pleased to see you are willing to be sensible, Miss Marks.” For the first time, there was a note of approval in Warren’s voice. “Surely, you agree that a brief engagement would be best. My son tells me your father will be sailing from New York shortly. Shall we set the wedding date soon after his arrival?”
Jane shook her head, clearly unable to hold her tongue any longer. “Won’t such a short engagement lead to speculation, Lord Warren? Perhaps it would be advisable to adhere to a more traditional engagement. Three months, at the very least.”
Warren gave Jane a withering glare. “I don’t believe I asked for your opinion, Lady Jane.”
Julian bristled. “Lady Jane is Miss Marks’ most trusted friend. She merely wishes to advise Miss Marks such a short engagement would look suspect.”
“Thank you, Jane. Lord Basingstoke.” Emma turned a grateful look on both of her defenders, wondering again why Michael wasn’t among them. “But I’m well aware an engagement must be of a proper duration.” She marshaled her courage and returned Lord Warren’s intimidating stare. “Apparently, Lord Warren is unaware of my wish to have the wedding in New York.”
“Preposterous.” The earl slammed his fist on the table with unnecessary force. Wine sloshed from his glass like blood upon the white linen tablecloth. “You’ll marry here, in London, or there will be no wedding.”
Michael leaned forward, his calm a striking contrast to his father’s fury. “I wasn’t aware of your wish to marry in New York, Miss Marks. That’s something we’ll have to discuss further.”
Michael’s condescending tone caused Emma to stare at him in stunned dismay. She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been. She’d allow that kiss in the moonlight to fuel her overactive imagination.
This was no love match. It was a business negotiation, just as Michael had originally implied.
Luckily, she was Blackjack Marks’ daughter. And thanks to her father, she’d learned a thing or two about what could be negotiated and what could not.
“There will be no discussion,” she stated. “I want to be married in New York.”
What good would it do to marry a viscount if she couldn’t rub it in the faces of all those who’d slighted her? She wanted New York society to come to her wedding in full force, wanted to see the jealousy on their faces when they saw her elegant aristocratic gr
oom.
She wanted a chance to show them all that her mother had been more than qualified to join their ranks.
Beside her, Michael shifted, apparently uncomfortable and at a loss. “Well, this certainly creates a problem. I can’t possibly leave my interests long enough to travel all the way to New York.”
“Does this mean you hadn’t intended to take Emma on a wedding trip?” Jane asked. “She simply must have a wedding trip.”
Michael looked surprised. “I thought Miss Marks was well aware I wouldn’t have time for such a thing.”
The earl made a sound of disgust, then pushed back his chair and stood up. “If you’ll excuse me, I just remembered I have another engagement this evening. I don’t want to be late.” Giving Michael one last disapproving look, he turned and left the room with regal dignity.
Silence reigned in the dining room for several moments after the Earl of Warren took his leave. Despite his father’s warning, Michael couldn’t believe the earl had been so rude to a guest, especially the woman who was going to save them both from financial ruin.
How could he ever apologize sufficiently to Emma for his father’s behavior? He didn’t even know where to start.
Apparently recovered from the shock, Emma drained her glass of wine and got to her feet. “I just remembered that I also have another pressing engagement.” Her words were carefully precise. “Shall we go, Jane?”
Jane gave an uncertain nod. Michael realized that in a few moments all would be lost.
He cast a pleading glance in Basingstoke’s direction and hoped his friend would take pity on him. “Julian, would you escort Lady Jane down to the conservatory and show her the orchids? I’d like a few moments alone with Miss Marks.”
Basingstoke had the gall to look to Emma for permission. “Is that all right with you, Miss Marks? I can call for your coachman, if you prefer.”
Michael got to his feet, forcing Emma to meet his gaze. “Please.” The plea sounded stiff and forced even to his own ears. Dear Lord, how had it come to this, that he should be reduced to begging for a moment of his pretty little American’s time? “I need to talk to you.”
For a moment, he feared she’d refuse him, but then she nodded. “As a matter of fact, there are some things I want to say to you, too.”
“We’ll be back shortly,” Lady Jane promised, a worried look on her face as Basingstoke steered her toward the door.
As soon as their friends left, Emma turned away. She stopped before the fireplace and stared down at the dying embers. “I fear I’ve made a grave mistake.”
Slowly, Michael moved toward her but the rigid set of her shoulders warned him to proceed with caution. “I’m sorry. The things my father said were inexcusable.”
She shook her head and hugged herself as though to ward off a chill.
Michael fisted his hands. The force of his desire to touch her, to offer comfort for the hurt he’d caused, stunned him. “Don’t judge me by my father, Emma. I don’t think as he does.”
She shuddered and spun to face him, fire in her eyes. “Then why didn’t you say something to stop him? Do you think me so desperate for a husband I’ll accept someone who won’t even defend me against attack?”
“Of course not,” Michael answered, feeling like an ass.
Her laugh sounded bitter. “I should have known, after the way you proposed, that this marriage wouldn’t work. But then you kissed me, and I let myself believe you might want me for something other than my dowry.” Her dark eyes welled with sadness. “I don’t want a business arrangement. I want something more.”
He sighed and pressed his fingertips to his temple. The throbbing pressure had begun anew. “Just give me a little time. You’ve turned my every expectation of this marriage upside down. I didn’t expect to like you so much.”
She tilted her head and stared up at him with solemn, slightly unfocused eyes. “You like me?”
He laughed unsteadily, surprised by the truth of his own words. “I like you very much.”
“Well, you certainly did a good job of hiding it tonight.”
“I hate that you had to endure my father’s sharp tongue.” He held her gaze and tried to convince her of his sincerity. “But all my life, the surest way to deprive myself of something was to let my father know I wanted it.”
She stared at him for a long moment, then stepped into his arms and settled her cheek against his chest as though drained by the night’s events. “I don’t like your father, Michael.”
He sighed and pulled her firmly against him, reveling in the perfection of the way they fit together. Tentatively, he pressed his cheek into the softness of her dark hair. “I don’t blame you. I don’t like him much either.”
For a long moment, he just held her. Some of his tension eased. Perhaps everything would work out after all.
As if she sensed him getting too comfortable, she looked up with dark troubled eyes. “There’s still the matter of the wedding. It would mean a great deal to me if we were to have it in New York.”
“Why does it matter so much to you?”
She dropped her gaze. “My mother was never able to gain admittance to New York’s top society, no matter how much money my father made. With you at my side, I’ll be able to prove that they were wrong about us, about her.”
Michael shook his head. The evening’s events had drained him, and he didn’t have the energy to argue the point with her. Besides, if he’d learned anything about her during their brief acquaintance, it was that she appreciated honestly. “There isn’t time to go to New York, Emma. If we don’t wed very quickly—within the next month or so—I’ll be bankrupt.”
She blinked. Obviously, she hadn’t fully comprehended the extent of his debt or the pressure he was under to settle it. “I need some time to think about all this.” Disappointment filled her voice. She stepped away, breaking the physical contact. “Suddenly, nothing is going the way I planned.”
Michael nodded wearily and resisted the urge to point out that life seldom went as one planned. Emma was living in a fairy tale, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to play the role of Prince Charming.
“I understand your concern, but I simply must have a definite answer from you within the next day or two.” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration, knowing he’d just run out of options. “Either we marry quickly, here in London, or we admit a mistake was made and you’ll be free to look elsewhere.”
Chapter Five
Emma and Jane didn’t speak much during the short ride home from the disastrous dinner party. Emma gave little thought to Jane’s uncharacteristic silence, lost as she was in her own hurt and disappointment.
Eager to retire for the night so she could contemplate her bleak future, she let the butler help her out of her heavy evening cloak. However, before she could head upstairs, Jane took her by the arm and led her toward the nearest room, a pleasant sitting alcove where a fire burned in the hearth.
“I need to talk to you,” Jane explained, perching on the edge of a small sofa. “It’s about Julian.”
Emma’s own problems receded as she sank into the chair across from Jane. Perhaps a little bit of juicy gossip was exactly what she needed to help her recover from the pain of knowing all her mother’s dreams were doomed to failure. “Tell me everything. I’m absolutely dying to know.”
“I love him,” Jane admitted. “I’ve loved him since I was a child.”
“Oh, Jane,” Emma whispered, stunned by the pain in her friend’s voice.
Jane shook her head and buried her face in her hands. “His country estate bordered my father’s. He was eight the first time I met him. I’m sure you can imagine how he dazzled my six-year-old country heart. He went away to school, so I didn’t see him for several years, but he returned when he inherited the title. There was such an air of tragedy about him. He’d lost nearly all his family in a series of unfortunate accidents, and I wanted to comfort him.”
Emma moved to sit beside her friend and placed a c
onsoling arm around his shoulders. “Well, you must have succeeded. I certainly wouldn’t describe him as tragic now.”
Jane lifted her head, and Emma frowned at the tears that clung to the other girl’s lashes. “Oh, but he is tragic. He’s just grown so much better at hiding it.” She dropped her gaze and twisted her hands in her lap. “I’m afraid I let him take dreadful liberties, Emma. My only defense is that I loved him so much. I couldn’t imagine his feelings were not as strong as mine.”
“What happened?” Emma’s heart ached for the pain Jane had suffered. She wished there was something she could do to help.
Jane drew a deep shuddering breath. “My father died, and Julian didn’t seem to know how to be there for me the way I’d always been there for him. He distanced himself, went to London, and before long, I started hearing rumors that he’d been courting other women.”
“Oh, Jane. I’m so sorry.”
Jane shrugged. “I’m embarrassed to admit how long I waited for him to come back. Months. Years, perhaps. And now, nearly a decade later, after I was so certain I’d finally gotten over him, here he is, once again in my life. I don’t know what he’s playing at or why he’s pretending a renewed interest in me. Perhaps he just finds it amusing to tie my heart in knots.”
“What happened tonight?” Emma asked. “Did he kiss you?”
“I think he would have,” Jane admitted. “I think he wanted to.”
“But you ran away,” Emma guessed, remembering that Jane had returned to the dining room alone.
“Of course, I ran away. If I’d stayed, I might have forgiven him.”
“Would that really be such a bad thing? It’s been a long time. Perhaps he’s changed.”
“Nothing’s changed,” Jane insisted. “He’s incapable of loving anyone.”
Emma sighed. “I fear the same is true of Michael. No wonder the two of them are such good friends.”
Jane wiped away her tears. “Michael is nothing like Julian. And he’s nothing like his father either. Surely, you can’t mean to let the earl’s behavior tonight influence your decision to marry Michael.”