Slowly, Edward turned and looked into her eyes. Then he did something that truly ignited Frances’ hope. He smiled. “Of course I still love you. I never stopped loving you.” Reaching up a hand to her temple, Edward toyed with a strand of her hair. “I think,” he continued huskily, “I would always love you, Frances, no matter what passed between us.”
The joy Frances felt at the sound of those words made her step closer and reach out. She had never felt about any man the way she felt about Edward. She wanted him to hold her in his arms.
Edward made the smallest of movements away from her and the moment was gone. He looked into her eyes sadly. “In time things will improve, Frances. I promise they will.” He stroked the soft, milky skin of her cheek with the backs of his fingers. “We all need to become accustomed to our new situation, and you and I have a lot of planning to do, do we not?”
The question caught her unprepared. “We do?”
Edward laughed, a deep throaty sound that made her feel warm inside. “Yes, we do. According to your father, we need to plan a rather lavish wedding. In London, as I recall.”
“Yes,” she replied, still wishing she could turn back the clock a little and have him hold her.
“I suppose we should set to it.”
As Edward stepped away from her, Frances halted him with one look. “There is just one more thing you ought to know about us Davenports.” The look that passed across Edward’s face told her that he feared there was something worse about them that he did not as yet know. “My father is a fiercely loyal man. If he says he will do a thing, you can be assured it will be done.” The expression stayed firm on Edward’s face, and Frances knew it was tinged with fear. “I am not repeating the threats my father made to you, Edward. I just wish you to know that if we are on your side, we are fervently on your side. I vow to you the same as my father. I will do everything I can to help you. I promise.”
Edward smiled weakly and nodded rapidly. “Thank you.”
“My father says your aim is to climb to the upper echelons of power in this country. Not only can he help you with that, but so can I. The wife of a politician is an expert in hostessing, manipulating, and persuading all for the benefit of her husband.” Frances could not know what affect her words would have upon Edward; she could only hope he would have some idea of her fealty to him.
“I appreciate your candour, Frances. You are right; I will indeed need your help.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a genuine smile. “Yes, this is a good beginning.”
* * * *
With the advent of September came the arrival of the newest member of the Emberton family. Richard George Emberton was born early one Sunday morning to hearty cries and the congratulations of all the family, who were anxiously assembled at Emberton Hall.
The little chap weighed nine pounds, and Grace was exhausted after seventeen hours of travail.
The rest of the family celebrated downstairs, as quietly as possible whilst upstairs Grace slept. The mood was so jubilant that Edward dared to mention Frances occasionally. When there appeared to be no opposition at having her name spoken out loud, he thought he might try his hand at mentioning the wedding.
Unfortunately for Edward, what he had not counted on was his mother’s anger burning so hotly for so long.
“Edward, you can stop right there. I do not wish to hear about your upcoming nuptials, neither do I wish to hear any of the details concerning the ceremony or the arrangements you have made for afterwards.”
The look upon her face was so stony that it took Edward by surprise. He did not believe his mother could be this way.
“You have offended us all, and I have not been able to forgive you. You put at risk everything your father, his father before him, and Richard have worked so hard for. You do not seem remorseful, nor are you apologetic.”
His mother’s words knocked the wind out of his sails. “Mother, there is nothing for you to reproach me with. I am also an injured party here. Were you not there when Lord Davenport arrived and demanded, nay, blackmailed me into marrying his daughter? I may have made a grave error in judgement in falling for a girl that was not approved by you. I most certainly did not seek your advice when I had previously promised I would. I am guilty, yes, of following my own heart and my own desires alone in this matter. But that is past now. What we are presented with is the cold, hard fact that I am to marry Miss Davenport whether you approve or not. Mother, nothing can be done about it now. If I do not marry Frances, then, yes, everything Grandfather, Father, and Richard have worked hard for will be destroyed. I promise you that.”
With his own words, Edward’s strength and courage returned. He straightened himself up and stood at his full height. “I require your assistance, Mother. I ask that you stand with me now. Regardless of how you feel about me and my actions, will you stand with me?”
The question hung in the air heavily. It was not so much a request as a demand. Edward was asking his mother to set aside all her feelings, all that her intuition told her about Frances Davenport, and all that society said about Edward’s future wife and to stand with him and even help him. He watched as tears filled her eyes, knowing full well that a battle raged within her between what she knew to be right by society and what she knew to be right by her son. Edwina lifted her chin proudly, but the love for her son showed through her tears unmistakably. Her choice was clear.
“Thank you, Mother.” Edward rushed forward, knelt down beside her, picked up her hand in both of his and kissed the back of it. “You have always been, and ever shall be, the best of women. I thank you again. I cannot do this unless you’re with me.”
Edward watched as his mother swallowed deeply, then slowly extricated her hand from his and stood. “You will excuse me. I suddenly feel the need to lie down.”
Once their mother was gone and Richard and Edward were alone, Richard turned to his brother. “Well done. It must have been very difficult to say to mother.”
“Yes, Richard, it was. But it needed to be said, you must agree.” Edward sank back down onto the settee, spent.
“We all need to be part of this. If we are to convince Lord Davenport that everything is well, we all need to participate. Do you think everything will go smoothly now?”
“I do not know. On Lord Davenport’s part, I cannot guess. I spoke with Frances, though, and she seems as much enamoured of me as before. In fact, I believe it to be genuine affection.”
“And you are you still enamoured of her?” Richard asked.
“My feelings are dampened now compared to what they were. The reality of who Frances is has poured water on the fire of my passions, I admit. The coals smoulder yet. Yes, I am still enamoured of Frances.”
“Then what to do about Mama?”
“She has indicated that she would stand with me, so when she returns, I will ask for her assistance. The Embertons need to be on display and out in full force for this wedding. Lord Davenport is sparing no expense. We have to keep up our side of the arrangement.”
“Agreed.” Richard took a deep breath. “I would suggest that, given Mama’s state of mind today, you return to Sandon Place and let me deal with her. I will get her to do her part. She will not let you down.”
Edward knew he could leave the matter in his brother’s capable hands and stood to leave.
“I will call upon you in a few days’ time.”
“Thank you, Richard.” Edward embraced his brother and set off for home.
* * * *
Frances heard the front door bell and knew a visitor had arrived. She did not bother to descend the stairs to see who it was because most often anyone who came to the house came for her father.
Half an hour later she was told her presence was required in the drawing room. At first merely curious, she was now aghast at the sight that greeted her. James Kirby was sitting with her father, drinking his finest port. Her anger rose and she wanted to demand an explanation for his presence in their home. Good training prevailed, and she bit
down her ire, held her tongue, and politely said, “Good evening.”
Her father chuckled. Frances shot him a scornful look. “I believe, my dear, that you are acquainted with Mr Kirby.”
The way her father emphasised the word “acquainted” made her cringe inside. She replied lightly, “I am.”
“And I believe you can be in no doubt of why I have asked him here this evening.”
“Not at all, I assure you,” she replied, in the same light tone, playing the game as well as he did.
Again her father chuckled. “Very well. Have it your way.” Slowly he brought his glass of port to his lips and drank from the glass, savouring the dark liquid and prolonging Frances’ agony.
“I have asked Mr Kirby here so that we might make a little business transaction together.” He paused and studied Frances’ face. She remained motionless, not gracing him with a reaction. “Apparently, and according to Mr Kirby here,” he indicated with his free hand the man sitting at his right, “he was under the impression that the pair of you had an understanding, an understanding that you were to be his wife.”
Frances wondered what her father was playing at. This was information he was already in possession of, and yet he was speaking to her as though this were a new revelation. She narrowed her eyes at her father, her stare unwavering.
“Now what am I to do when you are already promised to Mr Emberton?” Davenport pursed his lips, his face a study of puzzlement. “Or is it that you were promised to Mr Kirby first?”
Frances paled. She wondered what her father was about. Was he trying to punish her in some way? Whatever the reason, and whatever he thought he was going to achieve, Frances knew she was powerless to prevent him.
“What is the truth of that, Frances?”
Frances’ heart stopped. Out of the corner of her eye she could see James smirking, enjoying every single exquisite moment of her torture.
“What’s the matter, my girl? The cat got your tongue?” Her father chuckled again, and this time Frances did not miss the cruel edge to it.
“I was never promised to Mr Kirby.” Frances mumbled in a barely audible voice.
“Oh!” Lord Davenport looked surprised at this revelation. He twisted in his seat towards James. “Now, now. This is not what you told me, Mr Kirby.” His exaggerated movements would have amused Frances in any other situation. But, as the seconds ticked past, she grew increasingly disquieted. “You distinctly told me, Mr Kirby, that you had an understanding with my girl here, and now she’s gone and got herself engaged to another man. And you demand recompense. Is that not the way of it?”
This time it was Frances’ chance to sit and watch as James paled. “I… I…” he stammered. “We had an understanding!” he spluttered as he turned an angry glare towards Frances. “You know we had an understanding!”
“I know nothing of the sort,” Frances spat back at him without thinking. “I never promised to marry you, James, and you know it.” Out of the corner of her eye, Frances could see her father lean back in his chair and grin with satisfaction at the altercation between James and herself. Spurred on by her father, knowing now that what he wanted to see was her to stand up to James and deal with the matter, she demanded, “What is it you want, James? Why have you come here this evening?”
“To make you admit that you are promised to me, Frances!” James blurted out as he shook a pointed finger at her.
“I will make no admission of the kind.” Frances tensed in her indignation.
“Damn you!” James shouted as he rose from the chair, visibly shaking, and stared threateningly at Frances.
“Now, now, Mr Kirby.” Lord Davenport finally spoke up in a commanding voice. “Sit yourself down or I will have you physically removed from my property.”
James twisted his head around to stare back at his host, his expression of violent anger not missed by either Lord Davenport or Frances. Reluctantly, and with some effort, he did as he was told and sat back down, glaring across the room in Frances’ direction.
“You came here this evening to demand that my daughter admit that she promised her hand to you. Am I right?”
James looked at Lord Davenport with incredulity. “That’s what we’ve just been talking about, is it not?”
“No need to be rude, Mr Kirby,” Lord Davenport snapped. “Am I right?”
“Yes,” the young man replied.
“As you now know,” his lordship continued matter-of-factly, “this is not going to happen. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then my question to you, Mr Kirby, is what will make you give up this claim and disappear?”
It took all of Frances’ might not to gasp at her father’s words. He truly was on her side after all.
“What?” It appeared that James was not going to give up without a fight. “You want me to give up the woman I love and disappear?” He shook his head from side to side in disbelief. “I cannot believe you asked that.”
“Believe it,” Lord Davenport barked. “I have no intention whatsoever of allowing this charade to continue. It ends right here, right now. So, Mr Kirby, what is your price?”
“You can’t put a price on love!” he cried out.
“Good God!” Frances exclaimed. “Do you really expect anyone in this room to believe that you are talking about love, James? This is about revenge, and you know it!”
“Well said!” his lordship responded, giving her an encouraging smile. “While my daughter’s behaviour with you is not above reproach, Mr Kirby, your ridiculous assumption that you could ascend beyond your rank and gain the daughter of a peer as your wife is beneath contempt. I repeat, I have no intention of allowing this charade to continue. So name your price.”
James sat in his chair, looking between Frances and her father, trembling in fury. Frances was convinced that if James was arguing with any man other than her father, he would strike him.
“Well? One hundred pounds?”
“No!” James snarled, insulted. “Five hundred pounds!”
Lord Davenport threw his head back and laughed until his wheezing cough returned. The sound seemed out of place in a room with so much tension. When he finally stopped coughing enough to catch his breath, Davenport stared at the younger man with a glare that would wither the most hardened of criminals. “Don’t be absurd!”
“You are not in any position to haggle.” James’ spiteful smirk made his face twist in an ugly fashion.
“You are mistaken, Mr Kirby, if you believe you are the one that holds all the bargaining chips. You underestimate my power.”
The smirk slipped from James’ face.
“I will make one more offer, and you will do well to accept it.” Frances watched with bated breath as Lord Davenport paused to allow his words to sink in. “I will give you one hundred and fifty pounds and book you passage to the New World if you drop this ridiculous claim on my daughter’s affections and we never hear from you again.”
James took a sharp intake of breath and was about to speak, when Lord Davenport raised his hand to stop him.
“The alternative, Mr Kirby, is that I will see to it that you are stripped of your position and your name blackened. I will see to it that the only place you will find refuge is in the poorhouse. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”
James snapped his mouth. Frances could see the fear written across his face. He swallowed deeply, and Frances watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down. “One hundred and fifty pounds, you say?”
“Yes. It is a generous offer. A fifty-pound increase from my first one. You would be a fool to refuse me, Mr Kirby.”
Frances could see that James now accepted his fate. Lord Davenport’s threat hit hard. Frances could hardly breathe. Would James truly leave the country and leave her life for good? She could scarcely believe her luck.
“I accept your offer, Lord Davenport, but I ask for one thing in return—”
“It is not your place to demand anything, young man,” Lord Da
venport interjected.
James sighed in defeat. His whole demeanour spoke of his resignation. “I simply wanted a few moments alone with Frances to say goodbye to her.”
“I have nothing more to say to you,” she spat, putting paid to his request.
“You have your answer. My daughter has no desire to be alone with you and has nothing more to say. I believe this discussion is at an end.” Lord Davenport rose from his chair and stood expectantly, staring down at James, cigar and port glass in hand.
James did not stand. “I want to say goodbye to Frances,” he said more vehemently.
“Young man, she has said all she’s going to say to you. Now I suggest you take your leave, and do it politely, before I have to force you to go.” The intensity of Lord Davenport’s stare increased. “I will have the money and your ticket brought to you within the week.”
Frances stood up and crossed the room to join her father. She knew the conversation was at an end. The Davenports waited in silence for James to leave.
“I pray you will not deal so falsely with this Emberton fellow that you plan on marrying, Franny. I pray you don’t break his heart the way you’ve broken mine,” he spurted as he exited the room and marched out of the house without saying goodbye.
“Well!” Lord Davenport breathed a sigh of relief. “I believe, my dear, that is the last you will ever see of that unpleasant young man. Make sure you have no more communication with him.” He glowered at her before brushing past her out into the hallway and disappearing from her view.
Frances’ heart was still racing but began to slow to its normal pace. She could scarcely believe what had just happened. Her father had come to her rescue and extricated her from James’ control. The sense of relief and gratitude she felt towards her father was profound. She knew he would not appreciate an open display of affection, if she gushed out her feelings to him. Frances knew the best way to show her gratitude was by doing what was expected of a proper young lady. She had, from now on, to be an exemplary daughter and an impeccable wife.
The Suitable Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 2) Page 10