by Fiona Miers
“That is not a request, Anna,” Emma answered sternly.
Anna pursed her lips briefly and nodded obediently. “Understood, my lady.”
12
This was not the first time in his life William was forced to face rejection from a woman.
He had been previously, on more occasions than he would like to admit. But being rebuffed by Emma had been the worst and single most humiliating moment of his life.
When he had thought of asking Emma for her hand in marriage, he had been convinced she would reluctantly agree. He had not expected her to reject him without even a moment’s thought.
Embarrassingly, he had even pleaded with her to reconsider, but it had only made matters worse, shattering any confidence that Emma reciprocated his feelings. Despite her saying the words that he meant much to her, she still could not bring herself to accept his offer.
William’s jaw clenched.
Injustice.
Perhaps his intentions to marry her were somewhat forced but he did not mind. In the short time since he had met Emma, as well during their moments of intimacy, he’d come to care more for her than he had for any other woman he’d met.
Despite their apparent differences of opinion, the young lady had left an imprint on his heart. If he was honest with himself, he was in love with Emma, but it appeared that she did not feel the same way about him.
Or perhaps she did and was expressing it by declining his offer?
Perhaps she had taken it upon herself to protect him, rather than accept his help? She had, in fact, made it perfectly clear that she did not require a man’s assistance to save her. She was more than able to rescue herself, and he had no doubt in his mind that she could.
The only problem was that William did not wish her to.
“Are you well, my lord?” a voice from across the room called.
William was sitting in a crowded gentlemen’s club, with his brother, James.
It had been a tradition for William and James to spend an evening once weekly at the club as a means to converse with the other lords and dukes in complete privacy while they enjoyed dark whiskey, bourbon and the finest cigars in the country.
William glanced up at Lord Steeple, the marquess from whom he usually kept his distance ever since the detestable jackanape nearly ruined him a few years ago.
Lord Steeple was the kind of man with whom no female should ever be alone. He had a manner with words, and his overflowing charm made him an infamous smooth-talker. Of course, most women considered him charming and decadent, but after knowing him for only a short while, it was said they quickly discovered Lord Steeple’s true manner, which was rather deplorable.
William cleared his throat and brought his whiskey tumbler closer to his lips. “I am perfectly fine,” he answered before sipping the contents of his glass.
The whiskey burned as it slid down his throat, but he showed no sign of weakness.
Lord Steeple nodded nonchalantly and turned to James. “And how are you finding marriage, Your Grace?? Does the duchess already annoy you enough to run retreat from your home?
Will clenched his teeth together at hearing the arrogant words.
But James was more pleasant, simply shaking his head. “No, not in the least. The duchess is truly lovely, and I could not have chosen a better or lovelier young woman with whom to spend the rest of my life.”
“In all honesty, Your Grace, I wish not to offend, but I was well under the impression you would never marry, or at least had no plans to in the near future,” Lord Steeple said with a grin.
“Nor did I, to be frank, but life has a strange manner to it. One moment I was adamant that I would never marry, and the next, I had fallen head over feet in love with a beautiful woman,” James explained. “It happened so suddenly I did not even see it coming.”
William glanced at his brother. That was precisely how it had happened with Emma.
He had never imagined he would fall in love with a woman such as her or even fall in love at all. for that matter.
Emma’s beauty was unrivaled, but there was something more about her that had led to him falling for her. Perhaps it had been her courage to stand firm in her convictions and principles? She was also not afraid to be true to herself, which William found rather daunting.
He had always behaved according to others’ expectations. He was handsome and charming, and when he spoke the right words to the right person, they were enchanted by him.
He was able to easily woo any woman he wished, and even the most powerful men took notice of him when he spoke. William had inherited that trait from his father, who could simply step into a crowded room and command the attention of all its occupants. The man was a pillar of society, earning everyone’s respect and authority.
William had spent his entire life trying to please his father by trying to be just like him, often mimicking him to the smallest detail.
Thanks to that, he was indeed considered a well-respected man, despite his rakish reputation. That only seemed to make him even more highly esteemed at the gentlemen’s club.
Perhaps Emma was right. That men and women were treated very different and unfairly so. Because it seemed as though the more notches he collected on his bedpost, the better, which made little to no sense.
“Whether you saw it coming or not, you are a very lucky man, Your Grace,” Lord Steeple said.
“Indeed, I am,” James chuckled.
“Perhaps now that your brother has settled down, you would consider it as well, my lord.” Lord Steeple smiled and turned to William. “Although you seem to enjoy the company of more than one woman too much to consider marriage.”
William glared at Lord Steeple and his jaw clenched.
The other man waved a hand dismissively. “I mean no offense. But we are all aware of your standing with women. They flock to your side by the dozens, but they are only worth one night. Why is that?”
“My private affairs are not to be discussed,” William answered, his fingers tightening into fists.
“Perhaps not, but they are discussed,” Lord Steeple pointed out. “Tell us, my lord. How do you do it?”
“Do what, precisely?” he asked.
“Have those women not despise you after one night with you. You discard them the very next day. Surely they should be bitter. Or is it due to whatever my lord is hiding in those trousers that keeps them happy?”
“This is not a suitable conversation,” James interjected.
“I am not even going to dignify it with a response,” William confirmed.
“Perhaps you can respond to the rumors floating around about you and Lady Emma, my lord” Lord Steeple suggested, his dark eyes sparkling with malice and sadism.
William froze and steadied his anger. “What of it?”
“Are the rumors true?”
The moment William hesitated, a smirked cracked through to the surface of Lord Steeple’s lips and he laughed. “The rumors are true. I must congratulate you. She is a fine woman. Rather high maintenance and speaks too much for my liking, though. How did you manage to tame her?”
“I will not respond to those questions,” William growled and placed the glass on the table in front of him.
Lord Steeple, instead of leaving William alone, decided to push the boundaries even further. “But you were intimate with the young woman?”
“I warn you, Steeple…”
“Your threats may work on others, but they certainly don’t work on me, William,” he said and glared at him. “If I had known Emma was such a light-skirt, I would have attempted to woo her myself. Perhaps I still can.”
His belly tightened and acid burned the back of his throat.
He wouldn’t dare…
“You stay away from her, or I will strangle you with my bare hands,” William threatened.
“Again, my lord, your threats mean nothing to me,” the man before him said, his voice tinged with boredom. “But now that I see how angry you are, it makes me wish to do so
even more. And, to be perfectly frank, I have more than enough in my britches to satisfy the young woman. More than you ever could—”
“That is quite enough,” James barked, his voice echoing through the large room.
Before Lord Steeple or any of the other gentlemen could answer, James grabbed William’s arm and dragged him to the exit.
William fought against his brother’s grasp but ultimately gave in and went outside.
He knew that he was impulsive and would not have given a second thought to drawing Lord Steeple’s cork, especially referring to Emma in such a vulgar manner.
Lord Steeple’s words had gotten the better of him and now he paced around the road in front of the gentlemen’s club. The stars flickered overhead and in the distance, clouds started to fill up the sky.
Lord Steeple, the arrogant bastard, had purposely uttered those words to him to get a rise, as he had done many times in the past.
“Brother,” James said quietly.
William came to an abrupt stop and glanced at James.
“I know you are upset by Steeple’s words.”
“That is a very large understatement, brother,” he muttered.
“I understand, but I do not fathom why he yet again managed to manipulate you into causing such a scene,” James uttered.
“Did you not hear him? He practically referred to Emma as a whore,” William exploded.
“I heard him loud and clear, brother, but Steeple is not the kind of man with whom you should worry yourself,” James answered.
Didn’t James understand? This could get very bad.
“He will tell those terrible things to every man inside, and they will all consider Emma to be a light-skirt, which she is not,” he exclaimed. “She does not deserve any of this. It is my fault.”
“How is this your fault, brother?”
William ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated beyond anything he’d ever felt before.
“I cannot assist you if I’m unaware of what is happening,” James stated.
He remained silent, and James was the one who now sighed.
“Remember, brother, all women who aren’t virgins, are whores,” James said and lowered his gaze. “If I can give you a word of advice—”
“I’m in love with her,” William burst out with.
He couldn’t contain it anymore.
James froze and stared blankly at him.
William scoffed and placed his hands on his hips. “Do not seem so surprised.”
“I am not. I am merely…” James’s brow furrowed, as he quickly searched for the most appropriate word, “…delighted.”
“You are?” William asked, surprised.
“Of course. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”
William’s heart broke at the same time he rejoiced at his brother’s heartfelt words. “Thank you, brother, but it is too late. She does not feel the same towards me.”
“How would you know?” James asked.
“I offered to marry her to restore her reputation, and she declined,” William explained.
“She would, indeed, decline if that were the sole reason for asking her to marry you. Surely you told her of your feelings for her,” James said, then his smile faded as he stared at William for a while. “But perhaps she would have accepted had you done so.”
William shrugged. “I did not possess the courage to do that.”
“But you offered to marry her?”
He nodded. “I simply wish for her to be happy.”
“And you think marriage is the solution? I am not surprised she declined.”
William’s mouth dropped open and he gaped at James. “Why would you say that, brother?”
“Emma is a strong and courageous young woman who yields to no one and can care for herself. She most certainly does not require anyone’s help.”
“Indeed,” William grumbled. Exactly what she said.
There was a long pause, then James said, “I am sincerely sorry, brother.”
William sighed. His brother had nothing to be sorry for.
“It is my fault, for not giving her what she wished for most. To be heard, to be understood, and to be loved for whom she was,” William groaned and once more ran his fingers through his hair. “She deserves better than I can give her, and I most certainly do not deserve a woman such as her.”
While James glanced at him with assurance that this was not the case, William was well aware that it was.
13
Emma rummaged around in the large trunk that stood in the corner of her bedchamber, listening to the melodious tunes her father orchestrated down in the drawing room.
Her father had played the piano from a very young age, and was still very skilled. She recalled many nights when she had sat beside him on the stool while he played.
When she was old enough, she performed along with him, but for the past few years, she had not spent as much time with her father.
He had allowed her to be her own person and do as her heart desired. A smile formed on her lips as she recognized the familiar tune they used to play together.
For a moment she sat perfectly still, listening to the music, then she shook her head and continued to poke around in the trunk. She had searched her entire bedchamber for her favorite hair comb, but could not find it anywhere.
For the life of her, she couldn’t remember where she had it last, hence the intense search of her chamber. As she glanced down into the trunk, her hand touched another familiar thing – something she had not thought of in a long while. Her hands gripped the soft leather and retrieved her old journal from a few years prior. The leather was still in pristine condition and she placed it on her lap. She lightly touched the embossed flowers and smiled nostalgically.
Emma opened the journal and began to read her words from years ago. Her penmanship had improved a great deal since then, and the ink was slightly faded, but she was able to read her words. She wrote of her love for travel, when she had visited Paris with her parents, and wished to revisit the city as soon as she was able to. She also wrote of Edinburgh, which she wished to visit as well. Her father had promised that she could travel there, but had not done so yet.
A thought occurred to her and a sad smile formed on her lips. Although she loved William, she deserved to be happy, and traveling was the only thing that made her happy – besides him.
Emma was still angry with herself for declining his offer of marriage, and despite wishing she could go back in time and agree, she now had to do what was best for herself. She also did not wish to lose control over her life by becoming something she had always despised.
A slave to a man.
She shivered at the thought and glanced down at the journal resting on her lap. Her once sad smile shifted into feeling filled with promise and hope.
Perhaps it was time to make that visit to Edinburgh?
Emma stood up from her place on the floor and clasped the journal against her chest. She left her bedchamber and made her way down the hallway and then the staircase. A spark of hope filled up inside her, and she drew in a deep breath, gathering the courage she required.
She slowly made her way down the broad hallway, the sound of the piano growing louder. She stepped through the doorway of the drawing room and smiled at the sight before her.
Lord Montague, her father, sat on the stool in front of the piano, with his wife leaning against the side. The pair gazed lovingly into one another’s eyes, and for a moment, Emma pictured them as a young married couple, even more in love than they were today.
Emma had always admired her parents’ adoration for each other and had hoped she would find someone who would look at her the same way her father gazed at her mother.
Her thoughts immediately returned to William, whom she had tried to set away from her mind, but she continued to fail.
She recalled the way he had looked at her when he had asked for her hand, and her heart suddenly yearned for him. Despite not wanting to marr
y him due to his stated reasons, she still wished she had accepted.
She loved him, but it only seemed he wished to marry her out of pity, wanting to clear his conscience. She had come to hear many tales of him from her parents. His philandering. His drinking. His nights with widows and other bed partners.
Whether they held any truth was another story, but she did not wish to chance it. She was not about to place her heart on the line for someone who would not look after it.
“Emma, dear?”
Emma focused her gaze on her mother and cocked her head.
“Is everything well, daughter?” Lord Montague inquired with a furrowed brow.
“I am perfectly well, Father,” Emma answered and smiled as she stepped forward.
“Is that your travel journal, Emma?” he asked and turned to her.
Emma glanced down at the journal for a moment forgetting she still clutched it against her chest and nodded. “Indeed. I found it while I searched through my trunk in my bedchamber. I forgot I still had it.”
“You would not allow me to dispose of it, my dear,” her mother chuckled. “You adored writing in that journal almost as much as you adored traveling.”
“It was wonderful that you were able to visit different places with us, my dearest Emma,” her father said and smiled sincerely at her.
“And I enjoyed it as well, Mother and Father,” Emma said and glanced down at the journal in her hands. “I read through the pages and realized that there was one place I have not visited yet that I wished to. I still do, in fact.”
“And where is that, my dear?” her mother inquired.
“Edinburgh,” her father answered with a smile.
“Father still remembers,” Emma grinned.
“Of course. I recall I promised you that we would visit there one day,” he pointed out.
“Indeed, and you never break a promise,” Emma said hopefully.
He cocked his head and rested his arm on the side panel of the piano. “You are, indeed, correct. I am a man of my word, and I am fairly certain I understand. You wish to visit Edinburgh, see the castles and the lochs. The cliffs and the endless beaches.”