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

by Diana Bold

  Michael watched him closely. “So, you believe he killed himself?”

  Dylan nodded, without a single trace of doubt. “Of course. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes to ensure they don’t detain you even one more day.”

  To overcome for words, Michael managed a wan smile. Apparently, Emma wasn’t the only one who believed in his innocence.

  Julian offered him a smug smile from across the room. “It’s a good thing I didn’t listen to a word you said the other day, isn’t it? Besides, Emma and Dylan never would have forgiven me if I hadn’t told them straight away.”

  Emma squeezed Michael’s hand. “Julian’s absolutely right. We all want to help you. That’s what family is for.”

  Her words gave him a sense of belonging he’d never felt before. No matter what happened, he couldn’t regret marrying her.

  One of the solicitors stepped forward and cleared his throat. “Perhaps it’s best if we get started, Lord Warren. Would you mind telling us exactly what happened on the night in question?”

  Michael dropped his gaze away from his wife and forced himself to concentrate on the matter at hand.

  Lord Warren.

  His father’s title sounded strange and certainly didn’t feel right, but he must accept the formal address as though it was his by right. Any hesitation would make it far too easy for the queen’s men to take it from him.

  “Certainly,” Michael agreed, moving farther into the room. He sat down and gestured for the others to do the same. He cast a quick glance at Emma and wished he’d told her everything last night.

  “I came to London to confront my father about my mother’s death.” His gaze moved to Dylan, who gave him a nod of encouragement. In order to untangle himself from this terrible mess, he must sacrifice the earl’s reputation.

  “I’d just learned my mother had not committed suicide, as I’d believed all these years.” He took a deep breath. “She’d been murdered.”

  Emma gasped and reached for his hand. He drew strength from her loyalty and forced himself to go on. “My father found out she’d been having an affair, and that my brother Dylan was her lover’s child. Enraged, he threw her off the cliff at her Scottish estate.”

  Michael shook his head, weary with the need to go through this all again. “I don’t know what I thought to accomplish by speaking to my father about the matter. I suppose I hoped he’d have some sort of explanation for what had happened.”

  One of the solicitors busily scribbled notes. Jack shook his head in dismay, but Michael couldn’t tell whether it was for Michael’s stupidity or his father’s crimes.

  He cleared his throat and forced himself to continue. “In any event, my father was furious to discover I knew about my mother’s murder. He threatened to kill me to keep me from exposing him, stabbing me in the process.” His wound throbbed anew, and he clenched his hand to keep from pressing it against the ache.

  “I told him I wasn’t the only one who knew what he’d done. I tried to convince him he couldn’t hide from this, even if I were out of the picture. I turned my back, and that’s when I heard the shot.”

  “Oh, Michael,” Emma whispered.

  Michael tried to give her a reassuring smile. “For a moment, I was sure he’d killed me, but when I turned around, I saw he’d taken his own life instead. I knelt beside his body, and that’s when the servants burst into the room.”

  The solicitor nodded and snapped his notebook shut. “I believe that’s all we need for now, sir. I’ll present our case to the magistrates tomorrow. I expect to have you cleared of any wrongdoing by tomorrow evening at the very latest.”

  Michael closed his eyes, overwhelmed with relief. His word had never been doubted before, and he found it very hard to be viewed with suspicion. But these men seemed to believe his tale and took his release for granted.

  Perhaps he’d be able to share his life with Emma after all.

  * * *

  Emma stood by Michael’s side as they said goodbye to their guests. Her mind reeled with everything she’d learned. She’d made several wild guesses about what would make Michael leave her side and rush off to London, but nothing she’d imagined had come close to the terrible truth.

  Once the guests were gone, Michael’s strength faded. He sighed and leaned against the banister, obviously needing the support.

  “I think you should go back to bed.” She put one hand around his waist and steered him toward the stairs. “You look as though you’re about to hit the floor.”

  He gave her a wry smile and let her lead him. “I hardly think I’m as decrepit as all that, but I have no arguments about returning to bed. Not if you come with me.”

  Her cheeks heated at the invitation in his voice. Though they were married now, she still found it amazing that she could disappear into the bedroom with this man whenever she wanted.

  “Of course, I’ll come with you. We have a lot to talk about.”

  He nodded and followed her slowly up the stairs. Soon they arrived at Michael’s bedroom suite. While she locked the door, Michael sank into a chair in front of the fireplace.

  She moved to his side, and he tugged at her hand. She twined her fingers around his, and he tumbled her into his lap.

  “I’ll hurt your shoulder,” she protested and tried to squirm away.

  “Stop, Emma. I’m not made of glass.” He held her firmly in place. “Be still. I just want to hold you for a while.”

  With a sigh, she relaxed against him. The last few days had exhausted her, and she wanted to remain in his arms forever.

  “I’m sorry about your mother,” she whispered, after a long time. “I know how much it must’ve hurt you to learn the truth about her death.”

  He pressed his face against her hair and tightened his arms around her waist, but he didn’t speak. He probably wished she’d leave the whole matter alone, but she couldn’t.

  He needed to work through this, to process everything he’d lost. He’d spent too many years letting the pain fester. Now those old wounds needed to heal.

  “You’re not to blame for your father’s death. You couldn’t have known he’d react the way he did.”

  “Didn’t I? Perhaps I did. Perhaps, deep down, I knew exactly what would happen. Maybe I wanted him to die the way he pretended she had.”

  “You don’t mean that, Michael. You’re just hurting.”

  He shuddered. “I don’t feel as responsible for his death as I did for my mother’s. I could never understand why she did it, why she intentionally left me alone. Finding out that she hadn’t, that he’d purposely taken her from me, was almost more than I could bear.”

  Tears filled her eyes when she thought of the childhood he’d lost. “At least you had Dylan. Until tonight, I never realized how close the two of you truly were.”

  He let his head fall back against the arm of the chair. “I love my brother. But my relationship with him has never been easy. I always felt so guilty. I could never understand why my father treated him so badly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “My father used to beat him.” The words were wrenched from his very soul. And once the dam burst, he couldn’t stop. “Always him, never me. He was just a little boy, only seven when our mother died, but he was so damn brave. Once he realized nothing he did or said would ever earn him the earl’s love, he started standing up to the bastard.

  “I tried to protect him, tried to take the blame for things he’d done, but my father would never let me. Hell, sometimes Father would even punish him for my transgressions. So, I had to try very hard to never do anything wrong. I couldn’t bear to see him punished because of something I’d done…”

  He trailed off, and she could feel the effort he made to hold back a lifetime’s worth of tears. “In time, I began to hate him as much as I loved him. The older he got, the more he intentionally provoked the old man to violence. I felt so torn, always in the middle of their battles.”

  “Oh, Michael.” She rained anxious kisse
s over his face. “I’m so sorry. I can only imagine how hard that must’ve been for you.”

  His story explained so much. His need to be perfect. His inability to relax and enjoy himself.

  And poor Dylan. She’d only met him a few times, but she never would have dreamed his easy smile hid such a horrible childhood. Natalia had obviously helped him work through the things that haunted him. Perhaps she could do the same with Michael.

  The earl deserved to burn in hell for the pain he’d caused his children.

  With a soft moan, Michael buried his face against her neck and held her so tightly she couldn’t breathe, but she didn’t mind. She would do anything to take away even a little bit of his pain.

  “It will be all right.” She stroked his hair. “It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t cause any of this.”

  Michael clutched his beautiful wife as his self-control shattered. He was crying like a damn baby, but he couldn’t stop the tears from falling. They burned his eyes and cheeks and fell on Emma’s shoulder, much to his shame.

  “It’s all right. You need this, Michael. You need to grieve. Not just for your father, but for your lost childhood.”

  My lost childhood.

  Perhaps she was right. He grieved for all that had been lost. For the loss of his youth and innocence. For a mother’s love and the happy family life that had been denied him.

  He cried for his beautiful mother. The gifted artist who had so much to live for.

  He cried for his little brother, who had suffered so much. So needlessly. After all, his real father had loved him all along.

  Patrick Macpherson had allowed the earl to raise Dylan, because he thought it would give Dylan a chance at a better life. Of course, there was no way Patrick could’ve known the earl would punish Dylan in a thousand different ways for his low birth.

  Wealth and privilege did not ensure happiness. In fact, he sometimes thought the opposite was true. His own privileged upbringing had never brought him anything but heartache.

  Nothing he’d ever done had been good enough to win his father’s respect. Until this very moment, he’d never realized how close he’d come to losing himself in the pursuit of that unattainable goal.

  At long last, his anguish subsided. There was no use mourning the past. He could do nothing to change all the things that had gone wrong.

  But I can change the future.

  His arms tightened around his beautiful wife. Lovely Emma, who would never stop believing him, who would remain by his side throughout the darkest moments of his life. He pressed his face against the soft dark cloud of her hair, overwhelmed with new hope.

  He was tired of hiding his emotions, tired of guarding his heart. He’d seen very little of the interaction between Emma and her father, but he knew how much they loved each other. Deep down, he’d always known that his own father had been an abomination.

  He wanted a family of his own.

  Loving Natalia had caused a tremendous change in his brother. Perhaps Emma could do the same for him.

  He’d never know unless he found the courage to try.

  Taking a deep breath, he drew back to gaze at Emma. “Do you truly believe your father’s men will be able to get me out of this?”

  “Yes.” A spark of hope ignited in her eyes. “I’m sure of it.”

  He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “Then let’s start that family. I want a son of my own. A child I can love and spoil.”

  It was the first time in his life that he’d voiced one of his dreams out loud. To his cautious surprise, no bolt of lightning fell from the sky.

  And it felt right. So incredibly right.

  Emma smiled through a sudden sheen of happy tears. “You’ll be a wonderful father. I’m sure of it.”

  And as he stared into her loving dark eyes, he knew it was true. As long as she believed in him, he could do anything.

  Chapter Fifteen

  While the solicitors went to work on his behalf, Michael paced the confines of his bedroom suite, feeling worse than useless. Emma intervened and insisted he take a nap and give his body the rest it needed to recuperate from his wound.

  Reluctantly, he complied, but it frustrated him to admit any lingering weakness. To his surprise, he fell into a deep restful sleep. When he awoke, long evening shadows already darkened the corners of the room.

  Emma had disappeared, so he took a hot bath and soaked the last of the tenderness from his shoulder. By the time he emerged, he felt nearly himself again.

  He dressed and then stepped into the hall. To his immense relief, the guards, which had maintained a constant presence at his door since his father’s death, were gone. Hope blossoming, he descended the grand staircase to the main floor without being accosted by anyone.

  He walked straight to the front door, flung it open, then stood on his front steps and inhaled the sweet taste of freedom. Footsteps sounded in the hall behind him, and he turned to meet his wife’s satisfied dark gaze.

  “They’re gone,” Emma pronounced, confirming his suspicions. “Father’s solicitor spoke to the magistrate and insisted they either charge you with murder or remove the guards from our home.”

  “Thank God.” Michael took a step back and sighed with relief as he shut the door behind him. The invasion of his privacy had been one of the worst parts of the entire experience.

  Emma wrapped her arms around his waist, leaned her head against his chest, and hugged him. “Didn’t I tell you everything would be all right?”

  He pressed his face in her dark hair and smiled into the silky strands. “Yes, you did.”

  She pulled away and gave him a critical glance. “You look much better. Did you have a good nap?”

  “I slept like a baby.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “I don’t know how I can ever thank your father for everything he’s done for me.”

  “You’re family,” she said as she released him. “And speaking of family, Dylan and Natalia are here.”

  “They are?” Michael glanced toward the open doors of the sitting room. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

  “They didn’t want me to.” She took his hand and pulled him forward. “Don’t worry. We’ve had a very nice chat.”

  Michael followed but new anxiety built within him. Much as he loved his brother, it seemed his visits always preceded a new wave of trouble.

  As they entered the room, Dylan rose, clasping Michael in a hearty hug. Michael stiffened a bit, still uncomfortable by open demonstrations of affection, but forced himself to relax and return the embrace.

  “It’s over,” Dylan whispered, for Michael’s ears alone. “That bastard’s out of our lives for good.”

  Michael nodded as he pulled away, though he knew things would never be quite so easy for him. Dylan was the lucky one.

  Michael would have given anything to know that he was a bastard as well. Unfortunately, there was no doubt the earl’s tainted blood flowed through his veins.

  Somehow, he had to find a way to make peace with that.

  He tore his gaze away from Dylan’s and managed a small smile for his sister-in-law. “Hello, Natalia. It’s good to see you again.”

  Natalia stepped forward and pressed a sisterly kiss to his cheek. “We’ve been worried about you. I’m so relieved those ridiculous charges have been dropped.”

  “Thank you.” Her concern overwhelmed him.

  Emma slid her arm around his waist. He glanced down and was surprised to see a spark of jealousy in her dark eyes. Though he knew she genuinely like Natalia, she seemed to have a misguided notion that Michael regretted not marrying the duke’s daughter.

  Ridiculous. If he’d married Natalia, his life would have gone more smoothly, but he’d never have known even an inkling of the happiness Emma had brought him.

  Eager to put Emma’s mind at ease, he bent and kissed her fully on the mouth. She smiled beneath his lips, as though she realized he’d guessed her insecurity.

  Dylan laughed and pulled hi
s wife back toward the sofa. “Oh, young love. Remember when we were newlyweds, sweetheart?”

  “Yes, especially since we still are,” Natalia replied, her voice warm. “Shall we tell them our good news?”

  Michael gave Emma a last lingering look, then glanced over at his brother. “Good news?” He was eager to hear some after the chaos of the past week.

  Dylan beamed with pride. “Natalia went to see a doctor a few days ago. He confirmed what we’ve suspected. We’re going to have a child.”

  “Oh, that’s wonderful.” Emma rushed forward and gave Natalia an exuberant hug. “I’m so happy for you.”

  As the two women fussed over the impending birth, Michael turned and smiled at his brother. “This really is good news.”

  “I think we need to celebrate with one of the earl’s Cuban cigars, don’t you?”

  Michael stilled, his anxiety returning full force. He’d never known Dylan to smoke, so he feared his brother had suggested the cigars as a ploy to get him alone for a few moments.

  Frowning, he glanced at Emma. “Do you mind if Dylan and I go smoke?”

  She smiled. “Of course not. Natalia and I have many things to discuss.”

  Dylan motioned for the door. “Come on, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.” Reluctantly, Michael followed his brother down the hall. He cringed inside as he remembered what had happened the last time his brother had uttered those words.

  After they entered the office, he went to the sideboard and opened the box of fine cigars his father always kept on hand. He doubted he’d ever feel comfortable in this room, which had always been the earl’s most private domain.

  He turned and offered the box to Dylan. As he suspected, Dylan waved it away. “I’ve never cared for the damn things.”

  “Why the subterfuge?” Michael heaved a weary sigh and sank into the stiff leather chair behind the desk. “Whatever you need to say could have been discussed in front of Emma.”