Vows to Save Her Reputation

by Christine Merrill

  ‘As you do almost everything about your life,’ Robert snapped.

  ‘It was one of my many character flaws that Grandfather tried to correct,’ Jack said. ‘That is how I ended up spending so much time with Lucy’s family. To avoid the seemingly infinite rules of the household.’

  ‘You could have considered following some of them,’ Robert suggested.

  At this, the Major laughed in earnest, as if the thought was far too ridiculous to take seriously.

  ‘And we felt sorry for him,’ Lucy replied with a grin. ‘He was all alone in this great big house, with no playmates.’

  ‘He’d have been better at school, with me,’ Robert interrupted.

  ‘This is the first time you have said so,’ Jack said in surprise.

  ‘Or perhaps not,’ Robert corrected quickly. ‘It was very difficult for me to catch up with the boys who had been properly educated. Many of my early lessons were beaten into me with the schoolmaster’s cane.’

  Emma paused, her fork halfway to her mouth. ‘How horrible.’ Given the childhood he’d had, it was a wonder that Robert had turned out as well as he did.

  ‘Then it is just as well that I was not properly educated,’ Jack said with a smile. ‘I doubt regular beatings would have done me a bit of good.’

  In response, Robert shrugged, as if that was exactly what he thought his brother had needed, then added, ‘Of course, you, being younger, would have had an earlier start on lessons and might not have needed them.’

  ‘If I’d have done any schoolwork,’ Jack reminded him. ‘When Grandfather bothered with a tutor, I was an indifferent student, at best. It was probably better for all of us that I ended up in the military.’

  ‘It took years from my life, worrying about you,’ Robert said, in a strained tone. When Emma looked to him, there was a faint sheen of sweat on his upper lip and his breathing seemed shallow, as if he had to struggle to control it.

  ‘What else was I to do with my life? There was no future for me in this house,’ Jack growled in return. ‘It was all to be left to you, who had not even lived here.’

  Lucy shot Emma an alarmed look, as if to remind her that, since it had been her idea to get the two of them together, it was her job to keep them at peace.

  ‘Tell me about your grandfather,’ she said, to stop whatever was about to come next.

  ‘He was a dictatorial old fool,’ Jack said, without hesitation.

  ‘He was a hard man who meant the best for us,’ Robert responded.

  ‘But did you like him?’ Emma asked. ‘Were you happier, once he took you away from your father?’

  Apparently, the idea of warm emotion towards a family member was alien to them. For a moment, neither could manage to answer her. Then, Robert said, in a stiff tone, ‘He did what he did out of duty. We could not have stayed where we were.’

  ‘But it was cold comfort to some of us,’ Jack said. Then he added, ‘To those of us who did not know any better, at least.’ Then, he looked to his brother with an expression that seemed to hold both exasperation and sympathy.

  It was lost on Robert, who continued to stare into his plate as if the answers to all his problems might be written on it.

  Emma gave an extra rattle of her dessert spoon to signify that the meal had ended, forced a brilliant smile and said, ‘Let us retire to the sitting room and leave the gentlemen to their port.’ She glared across the table at her husband to remind him that he was, indeed, expected to be a gentleman. ‘I am sure they have much they want to say to each other.’ Then, with a silent prayer, she led her sister-in-law from the room.

  * * *

  After the ladies left them, Robert and Jack retired to the library in silence.

  It should not have surprised him that Jack had been unaware of how close they had come to starving. He had worked hard to keep the secret from him, at the time. But as it did each time they spoke, he was surprised by the conflicting emotions he felt when confronted with his brother’s ignorance. The fear and the helplessness of childhood seemed to rush back, leaving him on the brink of another attack.

  When that happened, it was far easier to lash out in anger and regain control, than to listen patiently to whatever it was his brother had to say to him.

  To calm himself, he remembered Emma, laughing in the wind as he had galloped down the road with her. He must not think of things as they had been. He must remember that, maybe, just maybe, everything had changed for the better.

  Even if they had, it was up to him to change the way things were at the moment. As there always was when the two of them were alone together, a heaviness filled the air, like the ominous feeling just before a storm. His brother must have sensed it, too, for he was watching Robert with a wary air as if he expected an argument to start the minute the door closed.

  About this, at least, Emma had been right. The pair of them squabbled like children and it was no way for grown men to behave. But what was he to do to stop it? Would further conversations help it or make it worse?

  As host, he must at least make an effort. He waved his brother to a chair in a way that he hoped was welcoming. But he suspected, from the look on Jack’s face, that it was seen as the dismissive gesture of a lord to a servant, indicating that it did not matter what the other did as long as it was done quickly.

  Inwardly, he winced, wondering what Emma would say of his awkwardness. Probably that he was making a simple thing far too complex. Judging by the look she had given him in the dining room, she would have no patience with failure.

  ‘I do not think port is strong enough for the pair of us to converse politely,’ Robert said in what he hoped was a light tone. ‘But there is a fine brandy, if you are interested in a glass.’

  Jack’s brow furrowed for a moment, as if testing for a trap. Then, he shrugged. ‘If it is the stuff Grandfather used to keep in his study, I might be persuaded to take a glass.’

  ‘The same,’ Robert supplied. ‘And I suspect age has mellowed it since the last time you tasted it. It has been some years, has it not?’

  ‘Since before the war,’ Jack admitted.

  ‘Then we should celebrate your return,’ Robert said, pouring out two glasses. ‘We have not done it as yet.’

  At this Jack laughed. ‘From your response the last time we spoke, I had no idea that you found my presence in England worthy of celebration.’

  Honesty. That was what was required. Emma would make it all seem simple.

  ‘If you felt I did not celebrate, you were mistaken,’ he said. ‘I was simply surprised at your return.’

  ‘You lacked confidence in my abilities.’

  ‘On the contrary. I did not trust fate, or your tempting of it. Our family has dashed bad luck, you know.’

  ‘I had not noticed,’ Jack said, as if years of trouble could roll from him like water off a duck.

  ‘Not noticed...’ This was surprising in more ways than one. ‘You were raised in this house, were you not? Did Grandfather never mention that we were cursed?’

  ‘Grandfather blathered on about many things,’ Jack replied and took a sip of his brandy. ‘I believe, more accurately, he claimed to have been cursed with the presence of an extraneous child. He made it clear to me that, since I was not to inherit, I had best learn to appreciate what charity I was offered.’

  ‘He called me an ignorant puppy and said he wanted no part of me until I had been properly trained up,’ Robert said, remembering the continual berating he had received when he’d seen the old man. ‘I assumed he preferred you, since he kept you instead of sending you away.’

  ‘Preferred me?’ Jack laughed. ‘He threatened to thrash me whenever I came within arm’s length. I spent as little time with him as possible. In turn, he allowed me to be raised by the neighbours.’ Jack pointed a finger, the accusation in the gesture softened by the spirits they were drinking. ‘He much pr
eferred you. Or so he told me at each opportunity.’

  ‘Did he now?’ Robert said. ‘He informed me that I was not worthy of his time or money, each time he saw me. He said that I was too stupid to be kin of his, since my marks were low and my schoolmasters despaired of my progress.’

  ‘Then I suspect he did not like either one of us. Nor was he fond of Father for marrying three times without finding a woman who would last long enough to care for us.’

  ‘Both Father and his wife were too busy at the faro table to care for children,’ Robert agreed.

  ‘True,’ Jack replied. ‘But I still wonder what they were about, letting us go without a word of objection. It always made me feel like failed horseflesh.’

  ‘They were eager to get us off their hands before you died from their neglect,’ Robert said, shaking his head in disgust.

  ‘Died?’ Jack replied, surprised. ‘Surely things were not that bad at home.’

  ‘You do not remember your frailty as a child,’ Robert said, equally surprised. In his own memory Jack would always be a hollow-eyed child, unusually thin, who wheezed each time he took a breath.

  ‘I remember feigning coughs when I realised that it would gain me a second biscuit at tea,’ he said.

  ‘Perhaps Grandfather kept you because we all thought you were not long for this world,’ Robert replied. ‘He told me once that the school would not allow you in because they were convinced that your weakness was a contagion.’ It seemed he had not slept at all during those first months at school, worried that the next letter he received would inform him of the death of his brother.

  ‘If malingering can be transferred, I suppose it was,’ Jack said. ‘Grandfather told me I was far too stupid to go to school.’

  ‘Then my education was a waste,’ Robert said, ‘for he told me you were the clever one.’

  Jack raised a toast to the fireplace. ‘Further sign of what a disagreeable man he was. It is a shame we did not compare notes on him sooner,’ he said.

  ‘We might have listened to him less,’ Robert agreed, trying not to think of the curse.

  ‘Well, we do not have to listen to him any longer,’ Jack said, giving Robert a curious look. ‘We are the only two left alive.’

  ‘And the first thing I must do is to throw a ball to celebrate your marriage to Lucy, and your safe return from Waterloo,’ he said, in a grim tone, feeling his throat tighten as another of the old barriers he’d erected began to fall away.

  ‘You do not sound particularly excited by the idea,’ Jack said, some of his wariness returning.

  ‘It is my wife’s idea,’ he replied.

  ‘If you do not wish to, then she needn’t bother,’ Jack replied, throwing back the last of his drink.

  ‘It is your wife’s wish as well,’ Robert reminded him. ‘And I assume you want to please her since she has done you much good. I have not seen you look so happy in years.’

  ‘I have not been so happy since before the war,’ he agreed. ‘Lucy has done much to improve my mood, just as Emma has softened yours.’

  This conversation was proof enough that she had changed him, in the short time they had been together. He would not have been capable of it, just a few weeks ago. ‘She continues to amaze me,’ he said, more to himself than to his brother.

  At this, his brother gave him a knowing nod and held out his hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘They are, indeed, amazing, but what are we to do with them?’

  Jack sighed. ‘I supposed it does not matter what we might prefer. If the women are decided, we will have to go along and make the best of it.’

  ‘Says the old married man of half a year,’ Robert said with a laugh.

  Then Jack held out his glass in toast. ‘Let us hope the surprises continue. To your wife and mine.’

  ‘To our wives,’ Robert agreed, since it seemed churlish not to. Then he added, ‘Though I am still not sure that I like being surprised.’

  ‘You will grow used to it, I’m sure,’ Jack said. ‘But until you have, do not seek a retreat to what you were if life is forcing you forward.’ He held out his glass for a refill and they went to rejoin the ladies.

  * * *

  Later, after they had said goodbye to their guests, Robert walked his wife to her room. Once at the door, she looked up at him, eyes hopeful. ‘The dinner was not as good as it could have been. But the rest of the evening went well, didn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it did,’ he agreed.

  ‘And you were able to talk to your brother without arguing?’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed again, giving her a frustrated smile. ‘And I would not have tried to do so if it hadn’t been for your interference.’

  ‘Then will it be all right if I hold a ball?’ she said, smiling at him expectantly.

  ‘The two things have very little to do with each other,’ he said, trying to ignore the way the scent of her perfume clouded his thoughts.

  ‘There would not be one without the other,’ she reminded him, taking a step closer to him.

  He took a step back, trying to regain his resolve. ‘I will consider it. Perhaps, if you come riding with me tomorrow morning, we might discuss it then.’

  Now, she paused, obviously remembering what they had discussed on their previous ride together. By the look on her face, she had agreed to his suggestion only to lose her nerve now that the time had come to implement it.

  He walked down the hall and into his room, searching the wardrobe until he found a pair of leather riding breeches and a fresh shirt. They smelled of starch and horse instead of mind-boggling femininity. If he focused on that, perhaps he would be able to sleep without dreaming of her.

  Then he returned and handed them to her. ‘Meet me at seven in the stables, if you have the courage to do so. We will discuss your plans, afterwards.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, as Emma prepared to meet her husband, she stared at the garments he’d given her, part in fascination and part in terror. She wanted to continue the discussion that he’d ended the night before and convince him that holding a ball would do no more harm than their other forays into society. He had only set this condition on it because he’d assumed she would refuse to meet it. She must prove him wrong.

  But more importantly than that, she wanted to feel the freedom that she’d felt when riding with him on their last outing. If she wanted to gallop, it made sense to try an easier way than the genteel method everyone had attempted to teach her.

  But wearing a garment that displayed the legs was simply not done. Did she ask her maid to help her with this improper activity or simply manage on her own?

  She tried the shirt and discarded it, unsure of how she would hide the details of her body through the thin linen fabric. On attempting the breeches, she discovered that she did not need help to put them on, since the closures were, quite sensibly, in the front. But even when properly closed, the reflection in the mirror was so shocking that she dropped her skirts to hide them, then went to the wardrobe for a pelisse and closed it tightly to be sure everything was hidden.

  Once she was sure she was decent, she made her way downstairs and out to meet her husband, but even walking in these strange clothes was difficult. She was not used to the feel of fabric between her legs and could not seem to decide where her feet were supposed to go. She had to resist the urge to swagger like a man and take long, bold strides that called attention to the change in attire. Instead, she forced herself to take small, ladylike steps as she walked further and further from the house.

  When she arrived at the stables, Robert scanned her garments, obviously disappointed.

  To prove to him that she had obeyed, she timidly raised her hem all the way to the knees, showing him the breeches underneath her skirt.

  He grinned. ‘I suppose it was too much to hope that you would wear them in plain view.’

 
‘And show my legs as I walked from the house?’ she said, shocked. ‘Since even you have not seen them, I certainly do not want to show the footmen.’

  ‘You might be surprised at what I have already seen,’ he said with a smug look, then added, ‘but you are probably right that I do not want to share the view with the servants. That is why I sent the grooms away, after they saddled the horses.’

  She had not noticed that they were alone, but she was certainly grateful for it. Now her husband was staring down at her skirts, expectantly. ‘Why don’t you tie that excess fabric out of the way so I can find your feet and help you into the saddle?’

  It made sense that she would not want to be hindered by the skirts. It was the whole point of wearing men’s clothing. But now that the time had come to reveal it, she felt strangely hesitant. But this man was her husband and, above all things, she wanted him to notice her in the way a man noticed a woman. Perhaps this was a brazen way to go about it, but if there was a chance that it might work, she should try it.

  She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and raised her skirts, bundling them at the waist and tying the hem into a knot to secure them.

  When she opened her eyes again, her husband was staring down at her legs in silent fascination. Then he cleared his throat to hide his distraction, glanced up at her face and created a basket with his hands to take her foot and boost her into the saddle of a roan mare.

  The act of throwing her leg over was unfamiliar, but she managed it without difficulty and smiled as she found herself seated securely on her mount’s back and feeling more confident than she’d ever felt on a horse. She grinned down at Robert. ‘Are you going to join me?’

  Without another word, he mounted his horse and they walked the horses out into the stable yard. The feeling of the animal moving beneath her was exhilarating and it grew even more exciting when she looked at her husband. Even at a walk, he rode his horse as if he had been born in the saddle, controlling it with the barest touch of the reins and a slight tightening of his legs.