Marrying the American Heiress: A Victorian Historical Romance (Brides of Scandal Book 2)

by Diana Bold

  Michael shared a quick glance with Emma, who shrugged her shoulders. Knowing there was no help for it, he turned his gaze back to his future father-in-law and nodded. “I’d be delighted, sir.”

  Resigned, Michael followed Jack Marks through the house and around the back to the stables. The impeccably clean stalls were graced with half a dozen blooded horses, each one more magnificent than the last.

  “Choose one,” Marks commanded, watching Michael with a speculative gleam in his dark eyes.

  Michael considered his choices, sensing he was being tested in some way. Hell, this entire afternoon was undoubtedly a test.

  God help him if he failed.

  Calling upon what he knew of Marks so far, he chose the most mean-tempered animal of the bunch, the pale gray stallion that stood seventeen hands high. “I’ll take this lovely fellow,” he said decisively, hoping Marks would appreciate his confidence, if nothing else.

  “Oh, Mercury.” Marks grinned and led a spirited chestnut mare out of her stall. “Then I’ll take Daisy here. She’s the only one the beast will tolerate anywhere near him.”

  “Splendid,” Michael muttered. He mounted, then spent the next few moments using every equestrian skill in his arsenal to show the stallion who was in charge. When the animal settled down, he cast a quick glance at Marks, who watched him with a raised brow.

  “Very good,” the older man commented, as he led the way out of the yard and down the street toward the park. “But I expected no less. After all, what is there for a young aristocrat to do in this country, other than hunt and gamble away his father’s money?”

  Michael bristled at Marks’ disparaging remark. “What is the point of pretending to get to know me, sir? You’ve obviously already decided who I am.”

  Marks laughed and glanced at Michael over his shoulder. “You may as well know I have little respect for any man who hasn’t earned his own way.”

  “I’m no worthless rake,” Michael insisted, stung. “I’ve been managing my family’s estates since I left the schoolroom.”

  Marks gave him a long measuring look, then nodded. “You are not at all what I expected. Even so, you must admit the speed at which you conducted this courtship is very suspect. Imagine my dismay when I learned you’d held my daughter’s engagement party without me.”

  “I’m sorry for the haste.” Michael drew his mount up next to Emma’s father’s, wishing with all his heart he didn’t have to go through this again. “But surely, Emma explained my financial situation.”

  Marks ducked under a low-hanging tree branch, then straightened with a sigh. “She did. And that only fueled my reluctance. I don’t want to give my daughter to a man who only wants her for the wealth she’ll bring.”

  Michael ran his hand down Mercury’s neck and wondered how on earth he was supposed to answer that. If he admitted how much he’d come to care for Emma, he was afraid the old man would devise some test to make him prove it—such as asking him if he was willing to marry her without her dowry.

  Unwilling to chance that disastrous repercussion, Michael decided to remain on the offensive. “And what exactly did you expect, when you sent your daughter to London with the express purpose of buying a title?”

  Marks looked somewhat startled by Michael’s attack, but he quickly recovered. “That was none of my doing,” he insisted, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “It was my late wife who wanted Emma to marry a titled gentleman. For myself, I only want to see her happy.”

  “I want that, too,” Michael admitted, hearing the truth behind Marks’ words. “I can’t deny I need Emma’s dowry. Badly. But I care for her very deeply. I give you my word I’ll do everything in my power to be the kind of husband she deserves.”

  Marks drew his mare to a halt and stared at Michael for a long silent minute. His dark gaze seemed to see into Michael’s very soul. “For some reason, I’m inclined to believe you, lad.” Suddenly, he grinned. “Shall we head back to the house before Emma works herself into nervous hysterics?”

  Michael laughed as well, relief washing over him. Apparently, he’d passed the test. “Yes. Let’s go back.”

  * * *

  “Well? What do you think? Isn’t he wonderful? Don’t you just love him?” Emma could barely restrain herself until Michael left the house before launching a barrage of questions at her father.

  On the surface, the interview seemed to have gone very well, but deep down, she feared they’d only been pretending to like each other for her sake. She had to assure herself her father had been as impressed with Michael as she’d meant for him to be.

  Jack held up one hand, as though to ward her off. “I do like him, Emma. In fact, I must admit to being pleasantly surprised. I half expected you to dig up some dissolute young wastrel, but Sherbourne seems smart and responsible. What’s more, he seems to care for you.”

  “Well, it’s nice to know you think so highly of my ability to make the right choice,” Emma snapped, but she couldn’t be angry. She was too relieved.

  “It’s not that I don’t trust you, honey. It’s just that love is blind.” He gave her a wink. “Can you forgive your old man for being a cynic?”

  Emma nodded. “Of course, I do. As long as you promise to forget any crazy ideas about a marriage contract.”

  Jack sighed. “I’m sorry, Emma. But I haven’t changed my mind about that. I think it’s for the best if we have him sign something.”

  “But, Father—”

  “Just a simple agreement to protect your interests. I’m sure he expects it. I’ll amend the original to give him more control, if you’re sure that’s what you want, but I must insist that you are protected, should anything happen to him, or if he should set you aside for some reason.”

  Emma frowned, then nodded. “I suppose you’re right. I shouldn’t let my emotions overrule my common sense.”

  Jack gave her a wolfish grin. “That’s my girl. I knew I could count on you to do the right thing.”

  Chapter Seven

  Michael had arranged to meet his father for lunch at their club early the next afternoon. Best to get this conversation over with as soon as possible. Nothing good could come of putting it off.

  The earl was late, of course.

  Michael waited for over an hour before his father finally deigned to put in an appearance. Even then, Warren didn’t come directly to Michael’s table, choosing instead to greet several of his peers, laughing and shaking hands as though he had all the time in the world.

  Michael managed to hide his annoyance. He knew from long experience that if he showed his impatience, his father would drag the whole thing out even longer. Besides, he had the satisfaction of knowing Warren would be exiting in a far less cheerful mood.

  At last, the earl made his way to his son. Nevertheless, he ignored Michael for several minutes even after he was seated and took an interminably long time deciding what to order for lunch.

  “May I ask why you felt the need to summon me here?” Warren finally asked, glaring at Michael as though he was the one who’d been kept waiting.

  Michael toyed with the stem of his wine glass, then realized what he was doing and forced himself to stop it. He couldn’t afford to let his father guess his nervousness.

  “I wanted to inform you that I’ve sent a messenger to Dylan in Scotland, asking him to attend my wedding.” There. Such a simple thing, really.

  Unfortunately, the Earl of Warren was anything but reasonable.

  “Out of the question,” his father snapped. “I forbid it.”

  “You misunderstand. I’m not asking you. I’m telling you what will be.”

  “How dare you presume to tell me anything.” The earl’s voice rose, but he managed to lower it when he realized they were attracting attention. “Your worthless brother is no longer welcome in my home, as you well know. I refuse to have him there, so you can put the entire treacherous thought from your mind.”

  Michael shook his head in disgust. “I want my brother to attend
my wedding. That’s why I’ve chosen to wed Miss Marks at Sherbourne Hall.”

  “You wouldn’t dare.” The earl gave his oldest son a fulminating glare, the one that always managed to make Michael back down.

  But Michael had finally had enough. He was tired of his father’s demands and unreasoning hatred. He was tired of cleaning up the old man’s messes and apologizing for his behavior. “Oh, yes. I do dare, Father. And what’s more, if you can’t keep a civil tongue in your mouth and be pleasant to both my brother and my bride, I’m afraid I’m going to have to forbid you to come to the wedding.”

  The earl’s look of complete astonishment might have been amusing, under any other circumstances. But Michael was well prepared for the fury that followed the surprise.

  “I’ll do whenever the hell I want,” the earl sputtered. “You can’t stop me.”

  At last, Michael played his trump card, secure in the knowledge that the balance of power had shifted. “You forget yourself, Father. Need I remind you who will control the purse strings from now on? Give me this one thing, and I’ll continue to pay your markers, within reason. Deny me, and you’ll have to find a way to pay them yourself.”

  The earl sank back in his chair, speechless with fury.

  Knowing it was best to make his escape before the earl recovered his powers of speech, Michael rose. “I know you’ll make the right decision.”

  Then he strode away, feeling as though he’d won a very large victory.

  * * *

  Michael made plans to depart for Sherbourne Hall one week before his wedding. He wanted to be certain all the wedding preparations were in motion and the house was ready for his guests and his new bride, who wouldn’t be joining him until the day before the ceremony.

  Emma’s father had decided to squeeze a few business meetings into his trip, and she planned to remain with him until he completed his transactions. Apparently, Jack didn’t want to leave London until he made another million or two. Everything the man touched seemed to turn into gold.

  In fact, Michael had been quite surprised when Jack presented him with the marriage contract. He’d expected the wily American to put provisions on every penny, but to his immense relief, the contract had given him more breathing room than he’d expected.

  Pleased with the way things were going, Michael arranged to spend one last evening with Emma before he left. They probably wouldn’t have another chance to talk privately in the rush preceding the wedding, and he needed another quiet evening in Emma’s company.

  He wanted to assure himself he’d done the right thing in pursuing this match, wanted to work on building the tenuous trust between them.

  Accompanied by Lady Jane, he and Emma arrived at Julian’s white stone house in Belgrade Square. They were supposed to discuss last-minute wedding preparations, but everyone seemed to know his true purpose for arranging this last evening together.

  It hadn’t been difficult to convince Julian to take Lady Jane for a tour of the portrait gallery. In fact, Michael suspected it would’ve been difficult to convince his friend not to disappear with the current object of his affections.

  The other couple had barely left the room before Emma launched herself into Michael’s lap. She threw her arms around his neck and gave him an exuberant hug.

  “I thought they’d never leave,” she whispered breathlessly. “I’ve been waiting all week for a chance to be alone with you.”

  Michael laughed and returned her embrace. This was exactly what he’d hoped for.

  It surprised him to realize how much he’d come to enjoy her company. Somehow, this irreverent, flamboyant American had gotten under his skin.

  “Are we really going to talk about the wedding? Or did you arrange to have me all to yourself for some other reason?” She pulled back and gave him a searching look, her dark eyes filled with the same foolish yearning that must be reflected in his own.

  “I think we’ve covered the wedding plans quite sufficiently.” He brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek. “Unless you have some last-minute thoughts you’d like to add.”

  She shook her head. “I think everything is well in hand. But I must admit I’m not looking forward to seeing your father again. I believe he hates the mere thought of me.”

  He tightened his embrace and kissed her forehead. “You needn’t worry. I’ve forbidden him to attend.”

  Her eyes widened in shock and dismay. “I hope you didn’t do that on my account. I can certainly handle any insults he chooses to throw my way. I don’t want to be the cause of any more strife between the two of you.”

  “You shouldn’t have to endure a single unpleasant moment on your wedding day. And you needn’t worry, I haven’t banned him strictly for your sake. I’ve done it for myself and my brother, as well.”

  “Your brother?” She gave him a strange look. “I didn’t think the two of you were on good terms.”

  “There’s a certain amount of tension between us,” he muttered. He spoke with care, determined not to let her see how much it disturbed him to hear she had any affinity for Dylan. It seemed every woman he’d ever cared about had chosen Dylan over him. “I wasn’t aware you were acquainted with my brother.”

  “We sat together in a dinner party,” she replied, unaware of the suspicion seething within him. “In fact, that was the very night he and Lady Natalia were discovered in the garden.”

  “Of course,” he muttered. “I forgot you were there.”

  She frowned and leaned back. “You were there as well? I don’t remember seeing you.”

  His unease grew. “No doubt you were too enchanted by Dylan to notice me.”

  She cupped his face and searched his eyes before pressing a chaste tender kiss upon his lips. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re the one I want. The only one I’ve ever wanted.”

  Somewhat comforted, he returned her kiss with one that was much deeper, much hungrier. She moaned softly into his mouth. Her surrender enflamed him even more.

  All his famed control vanished when it came to Emma. When he was with her, he didn’t want to think, he only wanted to feel. The need to claim her overwhelmed him. The kiss spiraled quickly out of control, and he found himself pressing her down onto Julian’s sofa, covering her lush body with his own.

  “I don’t think I can wait another week,” he whispered, as he trailed his lips down her throat. “It seems as though I’ve waited a lifetime for you already.”

  Truer words had never been spoken. Until Emma, he’d never known what it was to lose himself in passion. He’d never known how it felt to burn with need.

  “I know exactly what you mean.” Trembling, Emma lifted her hands to the bodice of her gown. Holding his gaze, she slipped the fabric off her shoulders, baring her beautiful breasts.

  She was luxuriously feminine, lush, and beautiful beyond words. But it was the curious mixture of boldness and innocence in her eyes then drove him over the edge.

  He lowered his head and nuzzled her breasts, then drew one dark nipple into his mouth, feasting greedily on her sweetness. Impatient, he shifted until his hardness was seated perfectly in the soft vee of her thighs.

  “Michael.” She gasped his name at the contact, and he wasn’t sure whether he heard fear or wonder in her voice.

  What he’d done must seem startlingly intimate despite the barrier of clothes that separated them. But she clung to him instead of pushing him away, so he allowed himself the luxury of rubbing against her once more. “I want to make love to you,” he whispered. “I don’t want to stop this time.”

  “Then don’t.” She looked deep into his eyes. “Don’t stop, Michael.”

  Feeling as though he were a condemned man who’d just been given a pardon, he kissed her again, long and deep, inundated with relief. She wouldn’t stop him, and he no longer had the strength to stop himself.

  He slid his hand beneath her skirts and shuddered at the feel of her smooth skin. God, he loved her legs. So long. So sleek and firm. His fingertips circled her knee
then moved on, stroking her soft thigh in one fluid caress.

  She tensed for just a moment, then sighed and let her lips fall open with complete trust. Shifting, he held himself up on one arm, watching her face as his fingertips delved between her thighs in gentle exploration.

  He caught his breath at her damp heat. She was drenched with arousal, and he nearly came undone on the spot. She was so passionate, so responsive.

  A sharp feminine gasp and a stifled bark of male laughter pulled him from his reverie.

  Julian and Jane had returned. For a moment, they stood in the doorway, Jane looking scandalized and Julian amused, then Julian pulled Jane away and quietly shut the door behind them.

  Chapter Eight

  Emma fumbled with the bodice of her gown, her fingers shaking with shame and embarrassment. She hated to even hazard a guess as to what Julian and Jane must think of her.

  Michael covered her hands with his, stilling her frantic movements. Brushing her fingers away, he fastened her gown with brisk efficiency then hugged her. “It’s all right, Emma. Everything will be all right.”

  She buried her face against the hard strength of his chest as he stroked her hair. His heart still raced beneath her cheek, and his arousal still pressed hard against her hip.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “This is my fault entirely. I knew I wasn’t strong enough to keep from touching you if we were alone together.”

  “It’s my fault, too.” He was such a gentleman, to try and claim full responsibility for their disastrous actions, but she had no intention of letting him feel bad about what they’d done.

  He shook his head, his arms tightening around her. “I wondered how Dylan could be so foolish, how he could let passion rule him so completely he allowed himself to get caught.” He laughed, a low lost sound. “Now I understand all too well.”

  “But this is different,” she assured him. “We’re to be married, Michael. And I’ve never belonged to anyone else, only to you.”