by Anne Ashley
‘The first of very, very many, I trust.’
She doubted it very much. It was highly unlikely that the Ashworths would ever honour her with a further invitation, but she chose not to remark upon that. ‘And, secondly, I would like to thank you for this lovely shawl. I shall treasure it always.’
‘Merely the first of many gifts I have every intention of bestowing upon you, Miss Emma Lynn.’
Thinking she must surely have misheard, she slowly raised her eyes to his, and almost found herself gasping at the depth of tenderness she could not fail to recognise in those striking blue depths, before the heavy lids lowered, successfully concealing the heart-melting glow, and she found herself very willingly imprisoned in two strong arms.
If the thought did cross her mind that she ought to stop this before it went any further, it certainly didn’t remain there for very long. The instant his lips met hers, gently persuasive and forcing hers apart, she was suddenly prey to a rapidly increasing and unfamiliar need. It sprang from she knew not where, and swiftly gained complete mastery over both mind and body, so that when a moment later she found herself held fast against that powerful frame, she experienced not the least inclination to deny the response the increasing pressure of his mouth demanded.
She emerged from her first experience of masculine passion breathless, and not a little dazed, but not so much that she could not instantly recognise a gleam of triumph in the eyes which stared down at her, and the hint of satisfaction in that deeply attractive voice, as he remarked, ‘Well, now, that was more than just a little revealing, was it not, Miss Emma Lynn?’
For his part Benedict had little difficulty in identifying both the embarrassment and bewilderment her expression clearly betrayed. He pulled her back against him so that she could not fail to detect the powerful beating of his heart, a heart that he experienced no reluctance at all in admitting belonged to her.
‘Yes, I love you, Emma Lynn,’ he reiterated, as she gazed up at him in awe-struck silence. ‘Believe me, it came as no small surprise to me to discover that I had succumbed to an emotion I had begun to believe I was incapable of experiencing.’ He brushed his lips across a brow that was betraying dawning wonder. ‘And now I am sure that you love me too, so please do not mar this poignant moment by attempting to deny it.’
She could not suppress a slight smile at this. There was undeniably more than just a touch of arrogance in his nature, but this only seemed to enhance his charm. ‘I wouldn’t dream of doing anything so foolish,’ she assured him, finding such blessed release in at last being able to acknowledge openly feelings which she had found increasingly difficult to conceal. She raised her hand to touch his cheek. ‘Yes, I love you, Ben. Yet it has happened so quickly that it has left me a little bewildered, I suppose. I wouldn’t have thought it possible to feel as I do on so short an acquaintance.’
There was an unmistakable tender note in his surprising rumble of laughter. ‘And I never hoped to find a girl so much after my own heart. But I have, and I mean to keep her.’ He gazed down at features which clearly revealed everything he needed to know. ‘Will you allow me to take care of you? Will you leave here and place your future in my hands?’
Her lips parted, but the response he longed to hear was checked at the clearly discernible click of a door from somewhere above, swiftly followed by a whispered demand to know if Emma was there.
Although faintly irritated by the untimely interruption, Benedict found it impossible to suppress a crooked half-smile. ‘Yes, Martha. She’s here, and coming up directly.’
Evidently she seemed satisfied, for they detected the light tread on the landing before a further click announced the closing of the door. ‘That woman would have made a formidable duenna,’ he murmured, before turning to light their candles. ‘But it is possibly just as well that she did remind me that I was born a gentleman.’
Handing Emma one of the candles, he placed his lips gently to one corner of her mouth. ‘Yes, you go to bed now, my darling, whilst I still retain sufficient control to let you go. We shall talk again in the morning.’
Chapter Nine
By the time Emma had woken to discover what promised to be yet another perfect early summer’s day, the cloud of happiness on which she had floated up to her bedchamber the night before, if not completely dissipated, had certainly developed rather large holes.
After sliding into bed, she had lain awake for quite some time, turning over in her mind what had passed between her and Benedict, and marvelling over the fact that the man she loved was every bit as much in love with her. Again and again she had recalled his declaration of love, cherishing his each and every word, until eventually it had occurred to her that it wasn’t so much what he had said which might prove of vital importance to her future as that which he had yet to disclose.
A sigh escaped her as she turned over on her back to stare blindly up at the ceiling. She could only wonder at herself for being so unworldly as not to have realised at once that Benedict’s offer to take care of her was tantamount to an invitation to become his mistress. After all, what else could it have been? A proposal of marriage? She shook her head. No, she would be foolish to attempt to delude herself. To be his mistress was the most she could ever hope to achieve.
The problem besetting her now, of course, was that, although she loved him beyond words, was she prepared to give up everything to be with him until he grew tired of her, and searched about for a replacement? Was she prepared to set aside all her rigid principles? Was she willing to risk losing the respect and friendship of those she held dear? Hard though it was, she must face the fact that, if she allowed her heart to rule her head, she would be forever an outcast, looked upon with scorn, and never accepted in polite company. Worse still was the heartrending possibility that, even if their association should prove lasting, Benedict in all probability would one day marry. Would she then be willing to share him with another woman?
Her stomach gave a painful lurch at the mere thought, yet she knew there was little point in not facing this very real possibility. Nor indeed was there any use in trying to avoid the fact that she had a heartbreaking decision to make—either she gave up her self-respect, or she risked losing completely the man she loved.
Tossing the bed covers aside, she swung her feet to the floor, and quickly washed and dressed. After arranging her hair in a neat chignon, she took a moment to glance at her overall appearance in the full-length mirror. The plain gown seemed dowdy compared to the beautiful silk evening dress she had worn the night before. If she did become Benedict’s mistress, all her gowns would be of the finest. Gentlemen, she had heard, were never unwilling to dig deep into their pockets to ensure that their birds of paradise were beautifully clad. Strangely enough, though, the prospect did not bring much joy. It wasn’t jewels, carriages and fine clothes she wanted. Material possessions had never meant very much to her, and she doubted that they ever would.
Slipping her feet into a pair of soft shoes, she left the room, and was surprised, as she descended into the coffee room, to see Lucy emerge from the private parlour, carrying a pile of used dishes on a tray.
‘Good heavens!’ she exclaimed, casting a glance in the direction of the long-case clock in the corner. ‘I didn’t imagine the gentlemen would be up this early.’
‘Only Mr Harry. He’s been up an hour since, and has taken himself off to do a spot of fishing up at Sir Lionel’s place,’ Lucy disclosed, leading the way through to the kitchen, where Martha was busily baking.
She glanced up as they entered, surprised to discover Emma in Lucy’s wake. ‘I didn’t expect to see you for a while yet, my dear. Why on earth didn’t you have an extra hour in bed? You must be tired after last night.’
‘What was it like?’ Lucy, agog with curiosity, demanded to know. ‘Were all the ladies wearing fine jewels? And did you dance and drink champagne?’
‘I certainly did, but not at the same time. Most of the wealthier families in our community were present.’ She
couldn’t suppress a smile of wry amusement. ‘There were certainly a few raised eyebrows when I walked in.’
‘Probably thought you were Mr Grantley’s fancy woman,’ Lucy suggested, with more honesty than tact, thereby earning herself a darkling glance from her mistress.
‘Of course no one thought any such thing!’ Martha snapped. ‘No one with sense would take her for anything other than what she is—a lady.’
Oh, dear God! Emma inwardly groaned. Poor Martha would be devastated, utterly heartbroken, if she ever suspected that the person whom she looked upon as a daughter was even so much as contemplating becoming a kept woman. What on earth was she to do?
‘As you both seem to have everything here under control, I rather fancy I’ll go for a walk before I have breakfast,’ she announced, and swiftly departed before either Lucy or Martha could offer to bear her company.
She needed to be alone with her thoughts, but swiftly discovered that the more she considered her dilemma the more confused she became.
Stopping by the gateway where she and Benedict had stood contemplating Ashworth Hall nestling below in the slight valley, she placed her elbows on the roughened wood, and rested her chin on the backs of her hands.
Was it really just two short weeks since Benedict had arrived at the inn? She felt as if she had known him all her life. And how her life had changed in so short a time! Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined that she would one day enter Ashworth Hall as a guest. Most of those present last night had treated her as their equal, with the utmost respect. None the less respect, sadly, was something she would need to forgo if ever…
Her sombre reflections dwindled as she detected approaching footsteps, and she turned to discover the being responsible for all her soul-searching striding down the track towards her, that wonderful smile, which never failed to send her pulse racing, curling his lips before he pressed them over hers in a lingering kiss, which left her in little doubt that he considered her wholly his already.
‘That was by way of “good morning”, my darling.’ Grasping her shoulders, he held her a little away from him. ‘Martha informed me that you’d gone for a walk.’ His perceptive gaze, raking her face, easily detected the touch of uncertainty in her expression. ‘What is the matter, my love? You’re not having second thoughts, I trust, because I’ll tell you plainly I’ll not permit you to change your mind.’
Emma did not doubt for a moment that he was being totally sincere, and now that he was with her she could not deny that much of her disquiet was beginning to ebb. Undoubtedly he was a passionate man who would choose to visit her often. She would be deliriously happy at such times. But what of those numerous other occasions, the lingering voice of doubt reminded her, when he wasn’t there to offer comfort and support?
‘I—I think you must allow me a little time to consider, Ben. It’s a big step for me to take, and it will mean my leaving all my friends here.’
‘It’s a big step for me too, my darling,’ he surprised her by admitting. ‘And you won’t be that far away. Hampshire, after all, is the next county. You can visit Samuel and Martha as often as you like.’
‘Hampshire?’ She did not attempt to hide her astonishment. She would have been the first to admit that she was quite ignorant of the ways of gentlemen in polite society, but she had understood that it was common practice to set their mistresses up in discreet little houses in the capital. ‘But I thought you would want me to live in London?’
‘And so you shall at certain times of the year. But for the most part we’ll be at Fairview.’
Emma was utterly bewildered now, and it showed in both expression and voice as she said, ‘You mean you wish me to live in your country house with you?’
He appeared genuinely nonplussed for a moment. ‘Of course, silly girl! Where else does a wife belong except at her husband’s side?’
‘Y-your wife?’ It was as much as Emma could do to stop herself from gaping up at him like a demented fool. ‘But I thought…’ Words failed her and she had the grace to blush, a circumstance which did not escape Benedict’s all-too-perceptive gaze.
‘Yes…and what precisely did you think?’ he prompted, eyeing her narrowly. The truth hit him with stunning clarity. ‘You have not, by any chance, been foolishly imagining that I was offering carte blanche?’ The rapidly deepening crimson hue was answer enough. ‘You really do deserve to be soundly shaken, Emma Lynn! Let me assure you, my girl, that gentlemen do not as a rule ask virtuous young females to be their mistresses.’
As he watched the tiny white teeth begin to gnaw the sweetly curving bottom lip, he abandoned the pose of mock-annoyance. ‘And would you have become my mistress, Emma?’
He was nothing if not ruthlessly direct on occasions. She peered up at him through her long lashes. ‘I was certainly giving the matter some very serious consideration,’ she conceded. ‘But marriage? Ben, are you sure? We’ve known each other for such a short time…’
‘I’m certain of my own feelings, Emma.’ He pulled her back into his arms. ‘And I know that you love me too. So why should we wait? All I need to know is whether you’d like a large London wedding, or would you prefer a quiet ceremony in the village church near Fairview?’
Her mind was in such a deliriously happy whirling state that it was impossible to think straight. ‘A quiet wedding, I suppose.’
‘Good, because that is what I should prefer. I can arrange it quickly, as soon as I’ve finished this business here.’ Regretfully he held her at arm’s length again. ‘I must complete the task I’ve undertaken on Lavinia’s behalf, but as soon as it’s over I shall journey to London to obtain a special licence, and we can be married at once. We’ll honeymoon in Paris, and then in the autumn we’ll pay a round of calls on various members of my family and friends. How does that sound?’
‘Perfect,’ she murmured, once again swathed in layers of blissful contentment. ‘Anywhere would be perfect so long as you were there, Ben.’
He rewarded her for her sound good sense by kissing her again. Then catching her hand, he led the way down the narrow path towards the inn yard, where Emma discovered his groom in the process of harnessing the fine team of horses to the carriage.
‘Are you going somewhere?’
‘I’m afraid I’ll be away for several days, perhaps as long as a week, but I hope no longer.’ He looked down at her, his expression suddenly troubled. ‘I hate leaving you, Em, especially now. But I’m determined to clear up the mystery surrounding Hammond’s death. And I rather fancy the answer may lie in a certain village in Worcestershire where, I recently discovered during my visit to her sister, the young serving-maid, Sally Pritchard, hailed from.’
‘Then of course you must go,’ she agreed, desperately striving not to betray her acute disappointment. ‘I just wish there was more I could do to help.’
‘There is, my darling.’ His tone was gentle, so Emma was a little surprised to detect a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. ‘That confounded nephew of mine has taken himself off fishing, I understand, so I must entrust you with a message. I discovered from Sir Lionel that Richard Ashworth is expected to arrive here any day now. If he should do so during my absence, I want Harry to go out of his way to befriend him, and keep an eye on young Ashworth.’
The reason was obvious. ‘You think he might be in some kind of danger, don’t you?’
‘I think he may well be, yes, if what I suspect is true,’ he responded grimly, before bending a concerned look in her direction. ‘Also, for the time being, my darling, I would prefer that you keep our betrothal secret. I have my reasons for requesting this, which I shall share with you on my return.’
He glanced over his shoulder to see his groom clambering up on the box. ‘And now I must leave if I’m to complete the better part of the journey before nightfall.’
Emma was not slow to note the return of the concerned look before he climbed into his carriage. Waving a final goodbye, she remained in the yard until the carriage had pulled a
way, certain in her own mind that something was troubling him deeply, and that it was far more than concern over the new Lord Ashworth’s welfare. Undoubtedly he would confide in her on his return. By which time, she sincerely hoped, she might have come to accept that she, against all the odds, had been awarded the dearest wish of her heart, and was very soon to become Mrs Benedict Grantley.
Midway through the afternoon, when she was arranging some roses in a bowl, Emma received a visit from Deborah, bringing with her two letters for Harry.
‘I’ll leave them in your care, Emma,’ she said, after seating herself at the table and learning that Mr Fencham was still over at Sir Lionel’s place. ‘One, I think, is from his father and the other, I suspect, was forwarded by him. Though why in the world Lord Fencham should have supposed his son was staying with Mama and me, I cannot imagine.’
Having been informed by Lavinia herself on the night of the pleasant dinner-party, held at her house the previous week, that her daughter remained ignorant of the real reason for Benedict’s visit to Ashworth Magna, Emma had been very careful what she had said in her young friend’s hearing. Deborah had been heartbroken when her father had died. They had been so very close. Only now was she beginning to recover, and Lavinia, understandably, did not want her daughter upset further by constant reminders of the tragedy which had struck their lives.
‘As you and your mother are such close friends of the family, it was a natural assumption to make, I suppose, as Lord Fencham must have known his son was visiting the area.’
‘Yes, I suppose so,’ she conceded, but doubt still lingered in the brown pansy eyes. ‘I still think it odd that they should have come here in the first place, though. There are far more interesting places to visit, and they seem to have been here for a long time. Surely they’ve seen all the sights by now?’
As no response was forthcoming this time, she glanced up at Emma, who had begun to hum a merry little tune as she continued arranging the flowers. ‘You appear full of the joys of spring today.’