Lady Em's Indiscretion (5 page)
He stopped. “Very well, I promise, if you
will take some time and think it over. You will see that it is
wisest to give him up.”
Extracting a promise from him not to fight
Mark was probably all she could achieve tonight. She nodded and
rose to her feet. “Let us rest now. We are both tired. I should
remain here until Sarah comes for me in the morning. But you should
go. You may stay at the inn in the village and come back
tomorrow.”
“You go back into that curst folly. I’ll
stay here until your maid comes.”
Perhaps he had some notion of guarding her
in case Mark returned. It was useless to argue. She could not
mistake the concern in his eyes, so she just gave him a quick hug
and headed back into the folly.
How strange the room looked in the
moonlight, how empty without Mark. She could sense a trace of their
lovemaking in the air, but what they had done there began to seem
like a fantastic dream.
She curled up on the chaise longue and
wrapped the sheet around herself. But without Mark there she began
to shiver. She got back up to rummage in the chest. She found a
blanket, yet when she wrapped that around herself, she still felt
cold. Her shivers became shudders. She curled up more tightly,
fighting to hold back tears, and knew it was not the cool night air
that ailed her. It was shock at how close Mark and her brother had
come to a dangerous fight.
But it was more than that. It was William’s
harsh judgments, the searching questions she could not answer. She
longed for Mark’s presence, for his words and caresses to supply
the answers and chase away all doubts.
Now she had only herself to rely on.
The next day, Em paced about Georgie’s
drawing room. She stopped by the window. From this point, she could
just barely see the folly beyond the bend in the shoreline. She
spun on her heel and turned back to pace in the other
direction.
“Sit down, dear,” said Georgie, looking up
from her nursing son. “You are making me nervous. You must trust
Robert to deal with your brother.”
Em nodded and took a seat on the sofa beside
her friend. Vivacious Georgie looked the picture of domestic bliss.
Em had a brief vision of herself and Mark living just so, dividing
their time between managing the estate and going to London for
Parliament and the Season. They’d have children, of course. Mark
had said he hoped to be a better father than he had had
himself.
Was it all wishful thinking?
She rose from the sofa again. Despite a poor
night’s sleep, she felt restless. How could she sit quietly while
Westhaven and her brother decided her fate?
“I wish I knew what they were saying,” she
complained. “Why do men always leave us out of everything
important?”
“I know how you feel,” said Georgie. “But
you must trust Robert. He is in a much better position to make your
case than you are. Your brother cannot accuse him of being seduced
by Denby’s rakish charm!”
Em sighed. “I suppose you are right.”
For a few moments, all that could be heard
was Rob’s noisy suckling and the tick of the mantel clock.
Abruptly, Westhaven came in. Em jumped to her feet. After a quick
kiss for his wife and child, he turned to Em and suggested she join
her brother in the library. He looked pleased with himself. It was
a good sign. Nevertheless, when she got to the library, she paused
on the threshold, her nerves jumping.
Will rose from one of a pair of leather
chairs in a window embrasure and waved her toward the other. He
looked thoughtful, but calm. Not at all like a man about to
challenge another man to a duel.
She sat down, trying to appear as calm as
he.
“So,” he began. “Westhaven gives quite a
good account of Denby. He has visited his estates and seen for
himself the progress Denby has made there.”
She said nothing, afraid to spoil
things.
“I am surprised but it appears that Denby
has made sincere efforts at reforms. It is possible you have been a
good influence.”
Good God, was this the same man who’d
threatened murder last night? She felt all adrift. Apparently Will
had needed to hear it from another man, a landlord not unlike
himself.
Men!
“Of course, I must speak to him myself,” her
brother continued. “An unequal match is not ideal, but it is no
great matter, if I am assured that his character has improved.”
“Do you mean you would give us your
blessing?”
“I must judge for myself whether Denby is
worthy of your trust. But if my opinion of him matches Westhaven’s,
then yes.” His face relaxed into an indulgent smile.
“Thank you,” she said, weakly returning his
smile. She ought to feel happy and yet somehow she still felt as if
the ground was moving beneath her.
“Westhaven is in his study now,” said Will.
“He is going to invite Denby to call upon us here tomorrow, so that
we may discuss settlements and other matters of business. I would
be remiss if I did not make careful provisions for you and your
children. I do not expect Denby to balk at them, but if he does, we
will know he cannot be trusted.”
Her unease must have shown in her face, for
he added, “Do not worry, Em. I shall make sure that Denby’s regard
for you is no fleeting passion.”
“Of course,” she murmured.
He rubbed his hands. “If all goes well, then
I shall write to London and arrange for a special license. I am
sure the Westhavens will be happy to host your nuptials.”
Em’s head whirled. Between them, he and the
Westhavens had everything planned. It had all been taken out of her
hands; there was nothing left for her to do.
Except one thing.
“I must talk to Georgie now,” she said,
lowering her eyelashes.
“Of course, of course. You will wish to talk
about all those things females are interested in.”
“Indeed yes.” She suppressed a wild laugh
and ran back toward the drawing room.
Georgie looked up from the sleeping child in
her arms. A tray bearing tea and scones sat on the table beside
her.
“Have some tea,” she said, smiling. “And
then we may talk.”
“I cannot eat. I need your help!”
Georgie stared up at her for a moment. “Very
well. Tell me what it is you would like me to do.”
So she did.
* * *
Mark left his horse in the village and
entered Westhaven Park through a gap in the hedge. He entered the
woods, trying to avoid tripping over tree roots in his haste, one
hand gripping the folded sheet in his coat pocket.
Meet me at the folly at midnight. - E
What the devil did it mean? If her brother
had relented, she would not ask for a clandestine meeting. Was she
desperate enough to wish to elope? Did she know how it would
forever estrange her brother and brand Mark forever as a fortune
hunter?
At least there was this: She wanted to see
him alone. Her brother had not turned her against him.
He redoubled his pace as he came out onto
the lawn. The moon shone brightly in a sky of deep indigo. There
was no wind, only the chirping and buzzing of crickets and other
creatures of the night. All was serene. Perhaps all would be
well.
And there she was, standing on the terrace
near the balustrade, looking out over the lake. As he came closer,
he saw that she wore a pale shimmering gown, what she’d worn to
dinner, no doubt. Gems glittered in her ears: her favorite set of
aquamarines, simple and exquisite as she was. She clutched a light
silk shawl around her shoulders.
At the sound of his boots on the stone
terrace, she turned around. Something in her stance made him slow
his pace.
“Em!” he called out. He wanted to take her
in his arms, but her grave expression and the way she gripped the
shawl with both hands gave him pause. Had she summoned him only to
deliver the fatal blow herself, as she’d done two years
earlier?
“You were . . . unable to convince your
brother?”
She replied slowly, measuring every word.
“No, Westhaven has spoken to him about you. Will seems content, as
long as you agree to certain terms in the marriage settlements.
They invited you to come here tomorrow to discuss the details. But
I asked Georgie to replace their note with mine. I wanted to speak
to you. Alone.”
Her voice was unnaturally calm, but her eyes
were bright and he sensed a nervous tension in her slender body. A
chill swept over him. They hadn’t exchanged any promises last
night. He’d just assumed . . .
“Why? Do you still distrust me?”
“I distrust myself,” she said in a low
voice. “When you are with me, it’s like Zeus with all those women:
Alcmene, Io, Callista, the rest. When he made love to them, they
didn’t stand a chance, did they?”
“Zeus didn’t love them the way I love you.
That gives you power over me. You know that is true, don’t
you?”
“When you say so, I want to believe it is
more than an . . . infatuation. But when you can do such things to
me . . . I wonder if I am bewitched. Perhaps you are, too.”
“This is real. I love you. I want to marry
you.
You
, not your fortune.”
“I know you find me . . . attractive—”
“Beautiful,” he corrected.
“Can that be enough? Mrs. Wood was
beautiful, too. Why me?”
“You don’t believe you have other qualities
to inspire a lasting passion, besides your fortune and your
person?”
She raised her chin. “I know I do. But so
many men do not.”
“I am not so many men! This is no
infatuation. This is real.” He took another step toward her, but
the tilt of her chin warned him to take no liberties. Her breath
came quickly, yet she seemed more excited than frightened. It
dawned on him that she needed to make her own choice and neither
her brother’s opinion nor his own best efforts at seduction would
sway her now.
He’d never seen her so strong. And he’d
never loved her more.
Suddenly words came spilling out of him.
“I’ll tell you why I fell in love with you? The first time I saw
you, you were defending Georgie against a group of silly chits who
were teasing her over her lack of fortune. You were shy, yet you
found the courage to help a friend. Yet afterwards you said you
pitied those girls, for not having friendships like yours. You also
showed pity for the suitors who courted you for your fortune,
although you never were fooled by them. Despite your youth and
inexperience, you viewed everyone with clarity but without
bitterness. I have never known anyone with such a rare mixture of
innocence and wisdom.”
He took a deep breath. “You were not blind
to my flaws, either, but you knew that I was capable of being a
better man than I was at the time. You told me I could do better
than follow in my father’s footsteps. You knew that I loved you. I
think you still know it, you just don’t trust yourself to believe
it.”
A slight breeze touched the surface of the
lake, splintering the moon’s reflection into silver ripples.
“Why didn’t you say any of this before?” she
asked.
The reflection settled, whole again.
“Because I’m a bacon-brained male?” he
ventured.
She lifted a hand to smother a laugh. The
shawl slipped briefly off her shoulders. He caught a brief,
tantalizing glimpse of lovely breasts rising from a low
décolletage, a single gem gleaming between them. It was hard to
tell in the moonlight, but he thought she blushed. But then she
pulled the shawl around herself, once more the picture of
decorum.
He hadn’t quite passed the test. Not
yet.
“I rushed our courtship,” he admitted. “I’d
never fallen head over heels in love like that before. Teaching you
the erotic arts was the most thrilling thing I’d ever done. I was
afraid to talk too much. I thought that if I let you stop and
think, you’d realize who had the better bargain.”
She was watching him intently, eyes wide,
lips parted, the shawl now forgotten and slipping from her
shoulders. Hope surged in him.
“But I love you,” he persevered. “I want you
beside me, and not only so I can teach you all my wicked games. I
want you to meet my tenants and advise me on my speeches for
Parliament. I want you to teach me to be a good father. And I want
to make you happy. I don’t know what else I can say to prove it to
you.”
He longed to gather her into his arms but
forced himself to wait. It was up to her now.
Em looked at Mark as he stood there, hope
and naked longing in his eyes. As she watched his beloved features,
something dissolved within her.
She opened her arms wide. “Well then, I
shall just have to trust you.”
He released a slow breath. A smile lit his
face as he came forward into her arms. He clasped her waist and
bent down for a deep, ardent kiss. She kissed him, blinking back
tears. He thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, then pulled away
and nipped her neck, wringing sighs of pure bliss from her. Oh, how
she’d missed him! How wonderful it felt to hold him close again,
without doubts.
How she wanted him to make love to her
again, fill the empty spot within her that had ached for him so
many times these two years.
He scooped her up into his arms. He was
taking her into the folly! But no, all he did was to lift her up to
sit atop the sturdy marble balustrade. As he kissed her neck, he
busied his hands with the fastenings of her gown. He pushed the
short sleeves down to where the shawl hung from her elbows, then
began to unlace her corset.
She gasped. “Here? Out of doors?”
“Just another of my wicked games,” he
murmured.
“You are mad!” Then she laughed. The time to
be missish was long past. The laughter caught in her throat as he
pulled down her bodice and corset, baring her to the waist. He
leaned forward to kiss her breast. Her nipple swelled in his mouth
and tingled as he moved to kiss the other breast.
