Christmas Bliss (6 page)

John saw the direction of her gaze and frowned. “Not to
worry, my dear. That is as close as he can get. Do not allow him to mar the
day.”

“No. Of course not!”

She smiled down at Oliver, who bounced around as if he were
bursting.

“Sissy, I’m not allowed to tell you about anything.”

“Really.” She giggled. “And what anything are you not
allowed to tell me about?”

“John has it, but I can’t say. It’s a surprise.”

“I see.” She looked at John.

His glee was equal to hers and he barely suppressed his
laughter. He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat. “Perhaps this will solve
the great mystery.”

Draped across his palm was a necklace made up of seven large
rubies. Each of the dark red stones was surrounded by diamonds. It was
exquisite. Her mouth hung open as she stared at the jewels sparkling in the
morning sunshine. She had no idea what to say. Her tongue felt as if it had
grown too big for her mouth.

“John.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You did not
need to buy me anything, and this is far too much.”

He placed the necklace around her neck and clasped it. The
crowd roared their approval.

“I’m glad you like them, but they are not really from me, my
love.”

“No?”

Margaret Scarborough stood a few feet away beaming at them.
He looked at his mother and waited. When she finally spoke, her voice was soft
and she looked a bit lost in her memories. “Those rubies have been in the
Scarborough family for over two hundred years. They have been passed from
countess to countess and it is my great pleasure to see you wearing them, my
dear Emma.”

Emma’s eyes blurred with tears. Margaret wrapped her in a
motherly hug and patted her back. When she pulled away, the countess’s eyes
were also shining with moisture.

“Shall we go in?” John asked.

Emma nodded and then looked at her little brother. He had
become distracted by the ornate church doors. “Oliver, there are no other
surprises, are there?”

“No. Only the church.”

The footmen had already opened the doors, Oliver slipped
inside before she could ask him what he was talking about.

“Don’t look so worried.” John’s delight was contagious. He
offered his arm and she took it gladly.

As soon as she entered the chapel the next surprise became
completely evident. Every surface had been covered with pale green fabric and
dark red and white flowers. She had no idea how they had managed it in such a
short time. They must have bought out every hothouse in London and the
surrounding counties. The effect overwhelmed her and fresh tears filled her
eyes.

Her fiancé turned to her and gently wiped away her tears.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

“It’s just that I’m so happy.”

Parishioners filled the pews and smiled as they watched the
couple. She’d never seen so many people crammed into the church. She thought
they might all be there not just for the Christmas Mass, but also to see if the
Earl of Compton would actually go through with the marriage.

Margaret took Oliver’s hand and moved down the aisle to take
their seats.

John wore a broad grin. “I’m glad to hear it. Now, take a
breath and let’s get through the next few hours, shall we?”

“Oh yes.” Suddenly the idea of a lifetime with John filled
her with delight. She had not really allowed herself to contemplate the
realities of a future as the Countess of Compton. Now her future stared her in
the face. She liked what she saw. He cared and he would always take care of her
and Oliver.

“Meet you at the other end?” He asked.

She nodded, and he walked quickly to take his place near the
altar.

Every face, as she made her way slowly toward the altar,
turned to her. She tried to smile back and acknowledge those she recognized.
Other than the Treechery Ball, it had been two years since she had set foot out
in society. Some of the faces were familiar but she could not put a name to
them. She reached the front and saw that her Aunt Fiona was seated next to the
countess. John must have sent for her from Plymouth for the wedding. She looked
from the gray-haired woman who had always been so kind to her to John, and
fresh tears stung her eyes.

John stepped down from the platform and helped her onto the
dais where they stood before the pastor.

Emma would never be able to tell her grandchildren what was
said during the ceremony. The entire experience careened over her as if it was
an avalanche. Before she knew it, she was agreeing to love, honor and obey.
Then it was over and thousands of rose petals fell from the rafters. They sat
through Christmas Mass before she and her new husband made their way out of the
church.

They returned to Scarborough House for a wedding breakfast and
to celebrate the Christmas holiday. Still, Emma could not catch her breath,
though it seemed as if the rest of the household exhaled for the first time
since John had put them all on alert. The footmen no longer guarded every door
and things seemed much more normal.

Emma watched the festivities from the doorway. She had made
a point to speak to every person who’d joined them for breakfast, but now she
longed for some peace.

“May I have a word with you, Emma?”

Emma turned to find her aunt only a few feet behind her.
“Aunt Fiona, where have you been?”

Her aunt’s petite stature and warm smile were something
familiar and Emma immediately embraced her. “I looked for you, but thought
perhaps you had left already for Plymouth.”

“No. I will spend the night here and return tomorrow. I
cannot leave my poor friends for too long.”

Emma smiled and wrapped her aunt’s arm through hers before
leading her into the library. The friends, that Aunt Fiona referred to, were a
dozen or more cats that she cared for. “I’m sure they could do without you for
a few days. And I would love for you to stay a while.”

Fiona’s eyes widened. “Oh no, my dear. I must get home to
the little ones. Jelly has just had her babies and Jam is a tyrant around the
little ones. I must get home.”

“Well, I’m very glad you came for the wedding, Aunt Fiona. I
can’t tell you how refreshing it was to see you sitting there this morning,”
Emma said.

Her aunt touched her cheek. “I couldn’t miss my girl’s
wedding. I’ll admit that when I got your note, I was surprised that you were
marrying. You hadn’t mentioned the earl in any of your previous letters. I
thought perhaps Drake had forced you into an unwanted marriage and had planned
to swoop in to rescue you. Then a carriage showed up to bring me to town with a
note from the earl himself. I was shocked, to say the least. The note was so
touching that I began to feel better about the situation.”

“I did not see Drake. Can I assume that he was not a party
to this marriage?”

“He is furious that I have married and taken Oliver out of
his reach. We have been on pins and needles here thinking he would somehow stop
the wedding.”

“Then you are happy with his lordship?”

Emma’s heart raced just at the thought of John. “I have
never been happier, Aunt Fiona. I…I love him.” The realization had her heart
beating even faster. When it had happened, she didn’t know, but it was true.
She was in love with John.

“Really? How wonderful for you, my dear.” Her aunt pulled
her into a warm hug. “I shall return to Plymouth feeling much relieved. I was
very worried about you and Oliver.”

“We are going to be fine,” Emma assured the older woman.

They returned to the dining room. Champagne was served to
all the guests. Oliver continued to eat until his nanny scolded him for gorging
himself and took him to the nursery for a nap.

* * * * *

Drake Trent did not appear at any time during the day. In
fact, the entire household basked in a warm sense of relief and accomplishment.
They had successfully warded off any unpleasant behavior from Trent and he had
made several attempts during the course of the past few days to see Emma. John
didn’t tell her about any of that until the guests had all left and they were
alone.

Emma’s mind still reeled with everything that had happened.

Late that night, she woke to find her new husband deeply
asleep in the bed they’d shared for the first time.

She felt the corners of her mouth turn up. She was Mrs. John
Scarborough, the Countess of Compton. It was all rather unbelievable. The
entire house felt as if it had been tense and waiting for the moment when all
the insanity would subside.

Try as she might to fall back to sleep, it was not possible.
She moved from the bed and swathed herself in a thick wool wrapper that was
hanging on the back of the chair and pulled on her boots.

Some fresh air always made her feel better. On the night of
her wedding, thoughts of her father flooded her. She wished he could have been
there. The two of them could have met in the garden and talk over the day’s
events. Of course, even if he had lived, he would have been walking in his own
gardens across the street. Still, it was her wedding and she missed having her
father there.

In the cold night, her tears burned her eyes as she stepped
out of the door onto the veranda.

A light snow had fallen, but that didn’t stop Emma from
going out into the garden. The crisp air brought her new life and delighted her
as she walked the path while staying close to the light from the house. No
footmen guarded the gate or the doors to the house as they had two nights
earlier. She closed her eyes and allowed the chilled breeze to whoosh past her.
Her eyes teared as much from the cold as they had from thoughts of her father.

She hadn’t gone far when she heard footsteps behind her. She
smiled at the idea that, once again, John had found her.

“You should not be out at such an hour.” It was not John’s
voice.

She spun around and her heart pounded at the sound of the
familiar voice coming from the shadows.

Drake Trent was hiding somewhere just out of sight. All the
peace she had finally begun to feel rushed away with the knowledge that she was
in very real danger. Her heart pounded, and in spite of the cold air, a film of
perspiration dotted her brow. “What are you doing here, Uncle Drake?”

He stepped into the light. “You didn’t think I would let you
get away with this, did you? After all, you are no countess. You are nothing
but a trollop.”

His voice was bitter and filled with contempt. Her legs
began to tremble and she tried to steady them. He came closer, and she took a
step back from his looming form. Her eyes darted from side to side, looking for
an escape. She could scream, but she might not be heard. Everyone in the house
was sensibly asleep.

“I am the Countess of Compton.” She said it in her
haughtiest voice. “You have no business here.” Even to her ears, the effect
fell flat.

He advanced until he was so close she could feel his stale
breath on her face. “You are a bothersome piece of dung who my brother never
loved and I shall dispose of very quickly.”

“My father loved both of his children.”

He laughed and the sound made her cringe and the hair on her
neck stand up. Her stomach roiled in protest.

“August often lamented to me about his foolish mistake at
having you and that bastard brother of yours. He would have changed his will if
he’d lived long enough.”

“You lie.” He blocked her path toward the house. She took
off running in the other direction and dashed into the maze. She didn’t know if
she could find her way out, but it was her only option. Her boots clomped
loudly on the hard ground. It started snowing again, but it was not enough to
soften her footfalls. Her heart raced and she gasped for air as she made turn
after turn in the high-hedged maze.

“You can run, Emma, but eventually I will find you.” His
voice carried through the shrubs. He wasn’t far behind.

She turned another corner and found the fountain where she
and John had kissed. She ran passed. The shrubs parted in three places. She ran
down the one farthest to the left and hoped it would bring her out near the house.
If she could get inside and scream then someone would help her.

The path ended at a wall of evergreen. Emma turned around to
find another way, but Drake had already found her.

“I told you running was foolish.”

She backed up, but the shrub stopped her.

He closed in and lifted his hands toward her throat.

The man who had terrorized her for the past year and
threatened Oliver’s life, was going to kill her in John’s garden. No one would
find her. Her heart sank. Oliver would not be saved. “You’ll be hanged for
this.”

He was red-faced from the run and covered in sweat. He
breathed in gasps and the most terrible sneer marred his already repugnant
face. “No one will ever know. You see, I am going to strangle the life out of
that scrawny neck of yours and then I’m going to dump your body in the river.
You shall never be heard of again and all will assume you ran away from a
forced marriage.”

“John will know,” she protested. “He will hunt you down.”

Drake shrugged. “He will have no proof, and since he is an
upstanding member of society, he will do nothing about it. After all what can
he do? He can’t very well kill me.”

“What does it benefit you to get rid of me? I have no money
to bequeath to you.”

He raised his right hand to strike. She tried to back away
from the blow, but the large shrub jabbed her in the back. His hand slammed
down across her cheek and pain exploded across her face and eye. Then both his
meaty hands closed over her throat.

Drake continued to speak as if they were having a social
call. “Your marriage is not convenient for my future. Pity that. Once you are
gone, I will petition for custody of my dear nephew, Oliver, and I shall have
all that I desire.”