I Thee Wed

by Amanda Quick

  He tightened his grasp on Emma, trying to convey a silent warning. She seemed to comprehend. At least she did not attempt to launch herself out of the wardrobe.

  “If you do not leave at once, Chilton, I shall summon my footman, Swan,” Miranda said icily. “I am sure he will have no difficulty removing you.”

  “See here, there’s no need to call that great, hulking brute,” Chilton growled. “I’m leaving.”

  Footsteps thudded on the floor. Edison heard the outer door open and close.

  “Bloody, stupid fool.” Miranda’s voice was soft with disgust. “I’m a lady. I don’t have to put up with anything less than the best.”

  More footsteps. Quieter this time. Miranda was crossing the room to her dressing table. Edison hoped she would not decide that she needed an item from the wardrobe.

  There were a few more small sounds: the click of a comb on the wooden surface of the table, the stopper of a bottle being removed and replaced. Then came the whisper of expensive satin skirts. More soft footsteps.

  The bedchamber door opened once more. When it closed again, Edison knew that he and Emma were alone at last.

  “I think, Miss Greyson,” he said, “that after having shared such a remarkably intimate experience, you and I would do well to deepen our acquaintance. I suggest that we find a more comfortable place where we can conduct a private conversation.”

  “Bloody hell,” Emma said.

  “My sentiments precisely.”

  Chapter Three

  “Bastard.” Emma was still seething when she stalked outside into the heavily shadowed gardens a few minutes later, “Dreadful, slimy, disgusting little bastard.”

  “I have often, with some justification, been accused of being a bastard,” Edison said neutrally. “But few people call me that to my face.”

  Startled, Emma came to a halt beside an overgrown topiary hedge.

  “I never meant to imply—”

  “And no one,” he continued deliberately, “has ever called me a little bastard.”

  He was right. There was nothing small about his person, Emma thought. In addition to size, there was an entirely natural, wholly masculine elegance about Stokes, which many men in the ton must envy. The eye followed him the way it did a large cat on the hunt.

  Chagrined, she said, “I was referring to Chilton Crane, not you, sir.”

  “I am happy to hear that.”

  “I had a word with Mrs. Gatten, the housekeeper, earlier this afternoon after I realized that Crane was here at the castle,” Emma said. “I warned her not to send any of the young maids to his room alone, regardless of the pretext. I also told her to make certain that the females on her staff worked in pairs as much as possible.”

  “I am in complete agreement with your assessment of Chilton Crane,” Edison said. “I assume from your reaction to him that you were the unfortunate lady’s companion in the Ralston Manor linen closet?”

  She did not answer. There was no need. He knew perfectly well that he had hit upon the truth.

  Emma took a few steps deeper into the overgrown garden. She felt, rather than heard, Edison follow.

  The Ware Castle gardens were an untidy sight during the day, and at night the massive hedges, untrimmed bushes, and runaway vines resembled a sinister jungle. The only light was that of the moon. It poured over the scene, bathing everything in disturbing shades of silver and darkness. The eerie glow transformed Edison’s face into a grim mask with glittering eyes.

  Oh Lord, Emma thought. He knew everything now. The events at Ralston Manor, how she had been sacked, the whole lot. She must do something or all was lost. She could not afford to lose her present post until she had devised a scheme to recover from the financial disaster that had overtaken her and her sister. It was too much. Emma wanted to scream with frustration. Instead, she forced herself to think logically. There was no point trying to explain away what Edison had heard. People were always eager to believe the worst when it came to a lady’s reputation.

  And even if she could put a better face on the incident at Ralston Manor, there was still the little matter of the fact that he had just found her concealed in Miranda’s wardrobe. The only point in her favor was that she had not been alone in that wardrobe. She rallied at the thought. It would no doubt be as difficult for Edison to explain what he had been doing in there.

  “I commend you on your restraint, Miss Greyson,” Edison said politely.

  She glanced back at him over her shoulder and frowned. She knew that she had emerged from the wardrobe somewhat the worse for wear. Her cap was askew. Several tendrils of hair had escaped. She could feel them around her face. Her gown was wrinkled from having been crushed against his thigh. But Edison looked as coolly elegant as he had earlier in the day.

  Every hair was in place. His coat was not even mussed. His cravat was still crisply tied. It really was most unfair, Emma thought.

  The memory of their enforced closeness in the wardrobe sent an unaccountable prickle of sensation down her spine.

  “Restraint, sir?”

  “You must have been sorely tempted to leap out of the wardrobe and take a poker to Crane’s thick skull.”

  She flushed and turned away. She did not trust his enigmatic smile. Nor did she know what to make of the too-even tone of his voice.

  “You are correct, sir. It was difficult to resist.”

  “Nevertheless, I am glad that you did so. It would have proven a trifle awkward for both of us.”

  “Indeed.” She fixed her gaze on a thick mass of cascading vines. In the moonlight they looked like a horde of snakes creeping across the gravel path. She shuddered. “Very awkward.”

  “Just what were you doing in Lady Ames’s bedchamber, Miss Greyson?”

  She sighed. “Isn’t it obvious? I heard Crane and Lady Ames coming up the back stairs. I wanted to avoid them, so I ducked into the first unlocked bed chamber I found. It happened to be Lady Ames’s room.”

  “I see.” He did not sound entirely convinced.

  Emma halted abruptly and spun around to face him. “What about you, sir? Care to tell me why you were concealed in the wardrobe?”

  “I was searching for something that was stolen from some friends of mine,” he said vaguely. “I was given information that indicated the item might be here at Ware Castle.”

  “Rubbish.” Emma glared at him. “Do not think that you can fob me off with such a banbury tale, sir. Lady Ames is obviously as rich as Croesus. She has no reason to take the risk of stealing anything.”

  “Appearances can be deceiving among the ton. But as it happens, I do not consider Lady Ames a suspect.”

  “Then how did you come to be in her room? I saw you sneak into the castle through a window on the floor below a few minutes earlier, you know.”

  His brow rose. “Did you, indeed? How very observant of you. I had thought that I was unseen and unnoticed by anyone. I used to be rather good at that sort of thing. Perhaps my skills have grown rusty.” He broke off abruptly. “Never mind. Concerning my presence in Lady Ames’s chamber. There is a simple enough explanation. I was trying to avoid you.”

  “Me?”

  “When I arrived on that particular floor, I caught a glimpse of someone standing out on the balcony at the far end. I knew that whoever she was, she would certainly see me when she walked back into the corridor. I used a picklock to open one of the bedchamber doors and let myself inside. I planned to wait there until you had vacated the hall before I continued my search.”

  “What a tangle.” Emma folded her arms beneath her breasts. “Nevertheless, I suppose I must be grateful to you, sir.”

  “Why is that?”

  She shrugged. “If you had not picked the lock on Lady Ames’s door, I would not have found it open, and there was nowhere else to hide in that hallway.”

  “I am always delighted to be of service to a charming lady.”

  “Hmm.” She studied him with a sidelong glance. “I don’t suppose you would care to
tell me exactly what it was that you were searching for tonight?”

  “I’m afraid not. It is a personal matter.”

  I’ll wager it is, Emma thought. Whatever this was about, one thing was swiftly becoming very clear. Edison Stokes had every bit as much to hide as she did.

  “Your story is inventive, to say the least, Mr. Stokes.”

  He smiled faintly. “And your predicament is delicate, is it not, Miss Greyson?”

  She hesitated and then inclined her head. “Obviously. I will be frank, sir. I cannot afford a scandal that would cause me to lose my post as Lady Mayfield’s companion.”

  “Do you think that is likely?” Edison sounded politely dubious. “For all her wealth and position in Society, Lady Mayfield does not strike me as being too high in the instep.”

  “Nevertheless, I dare not risk putting any strain on her sensibilities. Lady Mayfield has been extremely kind to me. I am fortunate in that she likes to style herself an eccentric. She is better able to tolerate my little lapses than some of my previous employers were, but—”

  “Little lapses?”

  Emma cleared her throat. “I have lost three positions during the past few months, sir. As you just heard, one of them was because of Chilton Crane. But I was dismissed from the other two because of my inability to resist voicing my opinions on occasion.”

  “I see.”

  “Letty is very open-minded about some things—”

  “Letty? Ah, you refer to Lady Mayfield.”

  “She insists I call her by her given name. As I said, she is eccentric. But I cannot expect her to keep me in her service if she is confronted with a serious charge against my virtue. To do so would make her a laughingstock in the ton.”

  “I understand.” Edison pondered that for a few seconds. “Well then, Miss Greyson, it would seem that both of us have good reason to keep our personal affairs confidential.”

  “Yes.” She relaxed slightly. “May I assume that you are willing to keep silent about the incident in which I was involved in Ralston Manor if I agree not to tell anyone that you have come to Ware Castle to prowl through the guests’ bed chambers?”

  “Indeed. Do we have a gentleman’s agreement, Miss Greyson?”

  “What we have,” Emma said, her spirits lightening swiftly, “is a gentleman’s and a lady’s agreement.”

  “I beg your pardon.” He inclined his head with grave respect. “A gentleman’s and a lady’s agreement, of course. Tell me, does your emphasis on the matter of equality mean that you are, perhaps, a reader of Mary Wollstonecraft and her ilk?”

  “I have read Wollstonecraft’s Vindication of the Rights of Women, yes.” Emma raised her chin. I found it filled with a great deal of sound reasoning and common sense.”

  “I will not quarrel with your conclusions,” he said mildly.

  “Any female who finds herself entirely alone in the world soon comes to a deep and abiding appreciation of Wollstonecraft’s notions on the importance of female education and rights,” Emma added for good measure.

  “Is that the situation in which you find yourself, Miss Greyson? Are you entirely alone in the world?”

  It occurred to her that the conversation had suddenly become remarkably intimate. Then again, as he had pointed out earlier, they had already shared an even greater intimacy in Lady Ames’s wardrobe. Emma devoutly hoped that she would not continue to blush every time she recalled the feeling of being crushed against his very solid, very warm body.

  “Not entirely. I am fortunate in that I have a younger sister. Daphne attends Mrs. Osgood’s School for Young Ladies in Devon.”

  “I see.”

  “Unfortunately next quarter’s fees are due at the end of the month. I simply cannot lose this post.”

  He looked thoughtful. “Tell me, Miss Greyson, are you completely without resources?”

  “At the moment, yes.” She narrowed her eyes. “But I shall not be without them indefinitely. Some of my financial plans failed to materialize on schedule two months ago. But I am hopeful that they will come to fruition any day now.”

  “And if they don’t?”

  “I shall think of something else.”

  “I do not doubt that for a moment, Miss Greyson.” Edison’s amusement was tinged with respect. “It is obvious that you are a lady of spirit and fortitude. May I ask what happened to your other relatives?”

  “My parents died when Daphne and I were very young. Our grandmother raised us. She was a very scholarly woman. It is because of her that I have read Wollstonecraft and others. But Granny Greyson died a few months ago. There was very little money, just the house.”

  “What happened to the house?”

  She blinked, startled by the manner in which he had pounced upon the one crucial factor in her tale. Belatedly she recalled the murmurs she had heard among the other guests. Stokes was said to be a man with wide-ranging financial interests. Obviously he had a head for business.

  “Yes. The house.” She gave him a rueful, humorless smile. “You have come straight to the heart of the problem, sir.”

  “Are you going to tell me what happened to it?”

  “Why not? You have no doubt already guessed the answer.” She steeled herself. “The house was all that Daphne and I had in the world. That house, sir, and the small farm attached to it, was intended to keep us and shelter us.”

  “I take it that something extremely unfortunate happened to the house?”

  Emma dug her nails into her own arms. “I sold the house, Mr. Stokes. I took out the few pounds required to pay for a quarter’s room and board at Mrs. Osgood’s School for Young Ladies, and I put all of the rest into a most unwise investment.”

  “An investment.”

  “Yes.” Her jaw tightened. “I followed a hunch. Usually my intuition is quite reliable. But with each day that passes, it becomes increasingly clear that I may have made a serious mistake.”

  There was a short silence.

  “In other words,” Edison said eventually, “you lost the lot.”

  “Not necessarily. I still have hopes—” She broke off. “All I require is some time and a bit of luck.”

  “I have always found luck,” he said with a chilling lack of inflection, “to be an extremely unreliable foundation for any scheme.”

  She scowled, already regretting the strange impulse that had induced her to confide so much information of a personal nature. “I do not need any lectures from you, sir. It is very easy for a man of your wealth and power to make depressing pronouncements on the subject of luck, but some of us have little else with which to work.”

  “Your pride reminds me uncomfortably of my own,” he said softly. “Believe it or not, I know what it is like to find oneself alone and penniless in the world.”

  She choked back a skeptical laugh. “Are you saying that you were once poor, Mr. Stokes? I find that extremely difficult to believe.”

  “Believe it, Miss Greyson. My mother was a governess who was turned off without a reference when a guest in the house where she worked seduced her and got her with child. The moment the rakehell who was my father discovered that she was pregnant, he abandoned her.”

  Shock reverberated through her. She opened her mouth, closed it, and then opened it again. “I am sorry, sir. I had not realized—”

  “So you see, I do have some feeling for your situation. Fortunately, my mother was able to avoid the workhouse. She went to live with an aging aunt in Northumberland. The aunt died shortly thereafter, leaving enough of an income to allow us to scrape along. My grandmother on my father’s side occasionally sent some money to us.”

  “That was very kind of her.”

  “No one who knows her,” he said very evenly, “would ever make the colossal blunder of calling Lady Exbridge kind. She sent the money because she felt that it was her duty to do so. My mother and I were an embarrassment to her, but she is extremely conscious of what she likes to call family responsibility.”

  “Mr. Stokes, I do
not know what to say.”

  “There is nothing to be said.” He made a dismissing gesture with one hand. “My mother died of a lung infection when I was seventeen. I do not think that she ever gave up hoping that my father would one day decide that he really did love her after all and that he would want to claim his bastard son.”

  The superficial cloak of casual unconcern in his voice could not entirely conceal the ice beneath his words. His poor mother was not the only one who had hoped that the rake who had sired him would someday come to care for his illegitimate offspring, she thought.

  Somewhere, somehow, Emma realized, Edison had found a way to chill the rage that burned within him. But the old anger, while it might be controlled now, would never completely disappear.

  “Your father, sir.” She paused delicately. “May I ask if you ever met him?”

  Edison gave her the sort of smile she might have expected from a large wolf. “He visited me once or twice after his wife and heir died in childbirth. We never became what you would call close. He died when I was nineteen. I was abroad at the time.”

  “How sad.”

  “I think that is quite enough on that subject, Miss Greyson. The past is no longer important. I mention it only to reassure you that I do empathize with your plight. Tonight, all that matters is that you and I have made a pact to protect each other’s secrets. I trust that I may depend upon you to uphold your end of the bargain.”

  “You have my word on it, sir. Now, if you will excuse me, I should return to the house. No offense, but I really cannot afford to be seen with you or any other gentleman out here alone in the gardens.”

  “Yes, of course. The virtue problem.”

  Emma sighed. “It is a great nuisance having to worry about one’s reputation all the time, but it is a vital asset in my line of work.”

  His hand closed gently but quite firmly around her arm as she started to slip past him. “If you don’t mind, I have one more question.”