The Reluctant Bride (7 page)

Now that the serious business had been discharged he was in a lighter mood. Near the back steps he stopped and turned. ‘Don't glare at me like that, old chap, when I've gone all out to praise your many fine qualities.'

‘Madame Fontenay—'

‘Madame Fontenay is, as I told you, another mission altogether. Right now, all you need do is deliver Allaire's papers.' Major Woodhouse pulled out his timepiece. ‘Perhaps you'd better acquaint your – er – wife with matters as they stand and be ready to sail on the Friday packet. Everything you need to know is contained in there,' he added, pointing to the pouch which Angus now held. ‘Allaire is at a safe house. Monsieur Delon's address is amongst the papers I've given you.'

Emily was relieved when she glanced through the window to see Major Woodhouse mount his horse, doff his hat in her direction, and ride off. Glancing up once more as she removed the kettle from the hob she was even more relieved to see Angus had resumed wielding the axe.

She found the end of some rather stale bread and a hunk of cheese and ate it with her tea, sitting on a stool in the scullery while she contemplated her sparse surroundings.

Miranda entered with a clatter of pattens – for the back door opened onto a veritable quagmire – her apron filled with wood which she added to the fire. Not a woman of many words, she jerked a nod of greeting in Emily's direction before picking up her scrubbing brush.

Emily chewed thoughtfully on the end of the bread. With renewed health came a revival of her spirits. Aunt Gemma's funds must be coming soon for Angus had spoken of their new residence. He was a decent man, she would allow him that. He had been kind and his decisive action had saved the baby.

He'd made plain his concern for her. For both her and the baby. But she couldn't rid herself of the conviction that their present discomfort was due to Aunt Gemma's money being withheld due to some stipulation she was unaware of. Who knew what the two had plotted as fair recompense for Angus to salvage Micklen honour?

She tried to rein in her scattered thoughts. Marriage was a contract for most couples of her station and she must get over the bitterness of losing out on love, for she had been provided with what most fallen women – yes, she must not forget that was what she was – could not even dream of: a marriage to enable her to keep and legitimise her child, and a home.

Hopefully a commodious home with separate apartments for each of them so she could reflect in privacy, read Jack's letters without fear of interruption, sing songs to the baby about its father—

She pictured Jack's roguish grin, her breath shuddering as her daydream was swept away by an image of Angus bending over her, his dark brown eyes blazing with intensity as he vowed to save her child and protect Emily.

The sentiment and his actions were those of a good man and she must try to keep that at the forefront of her thoughts rather than hug her grief to herself over Jack's death. Yet how could a man as upstanding as Angus care for and respect a woman so steeped in sin as she? Could his concern stem only from the fact that if she died too soon he'd lose out on Aunt Gemma's money?

‘Get back to bed with ye, girl,' grumbled Miranda, looking up from her scrubbing. ‘Yer as white as a ghostie.'

Emily swallowed the last of the dry bread and fixed Miranda with a level stare. Soon she'd be in her own fine residence with servants who treated her with respect.

But it was true. She was feeling suddenly light-headed from her modest exertions. She accepted that Miranda, also, had been good to her, when the servant had every reason to despise her new mistress for being no better than someone's fancy ladybird with her swollen belly and too fresh wedding ring.

Lacing her hands over her bulge, Emily waddled back to the bedroom, closing the door and reaching up for her shawl on the hook.

Then the pain struck again.

She regained consciousness in her husband's arms. Eyes closed, she remained limp as he covered the distance to the bed. He was still shirtless. The direct contact of her cheek against the coarse hair of his chest, beneath which she could feel the beating of his heart, evoked an indefinable, confusing response. She'd never been close enough to him to smell his fresh sweat, to touch his skin. Whereas Jack's chest had been smooth and hard, Angus's was dusted with dark hair.

‘How do you feel?' he asked, realising she had come to. ‘There's been no more bleeding, but I've sent Miranda to fetch the doctor, in case.'

Embarrassed by this clinical assessment and wondering at the nature of his examination while she'd been unconscious, she heard the tightness of her voice. ‘Clearly you're accustomed to blood.'

He smiled his tense, thoughtful smile as he tucked her in, smoothing the pillow and again she wondered who had caused the scar that sliced his cheek.

‘It comes with the job. Would you like a mug of sweet tea?'

‘Perhaps later.' She sighed, though his concern was reassuring. There was no doubting the constancy of his feelings and she took comfort in his presence, she realised, but she was exhausted. She felt wrung out, emotionally and physically. Closing her eyes, she felt for the reassuring movements of the baby.

‘Two more months, Emily.'

At the intensity of his tone she blinked to see him crouching beside her, his eyes level with hers. The room was dim with the curtains closed against the sun, but even in the gloom his eyes glowed. If she didn't know how ridiculous a thought it was, she might have said, with excitement.

‘Two and a half,' she corrected him.

‘He only needs another two to have a fighting chance.'

‘You think it's a boy?' Despite herself she couldn't help smiling just to contemplate the living, breathing creature within her. Then she remembered it was Jack's child. Stiffly, she added, ‘Besides, what would you know about such things?' and was immediately ashamed of her churlishness.

‘I've delivered a baby.'

He must have seen her shock, for he laughed softly as he resettled himself on the stool at her bedside and took her hand. ‘The battlefield isn't only about death. There's a huge contingent of women and children who follow their menfolk around the globe and they endure terrible hardship.'

Emily stared at him. ‘You delivered a baby?' she repeated, trying to imagine how a commissioned officer of the prestigious 60th Rifles came to be involved in some sordid camp follower scenario. ‘Your … mistress?' For some reason she'd never imagined Angus having a mistress.

‘Her friend,' he corrected her.

So he had a mistress. Or once had. She digested this startling information in silence, unable to give voice to the multiple questions chasing themselves around her head.

He smiled. ‘We were in Spain and although a fierce battle had just been fought, the irony was that, with calm restored, the poor woman had fallen in the river when doing the washing and was wedged between two rocks. The birth pangs were well advanced by the time I arrived. Now I have a godson, a lusty boy who'd be about four.' He rose, obviously amused by her shock. ‘Don't fret over what you can't change, Emily. You're my wife and whatever happens, I promise to look after you.'

‘And where is your mistress now, Angus?'

She heard the tartness of her tone and added quickly, almost meekly, ‘I beg your pardon, Angus. That is not a question a wife should ask her husband.'

His look was difficult to read as he answered from the doorway, ‘You may ask me anything you like though I do not promise I will always answer you. What I do promise to offer you, however, is the truth.' He was silent a long time before he said softly, ‘Jessamine is long dead after a liaison of very short duration. Now, regrettably'—he cleared his voice—‘I must go away for a few days. The doctor will be here soon and I shall make arrangements for your care.'

The surprise that he'd had a mistress whom he'd even discussed with her was replaced by astonishment that he should suddenly announce he was leaving, followed by fear that he'd consign her to living in these squalid lodgings during his absence.

‘You're leaving me, alone? At a time like this?' she gasped.

‘I'm on my way to see my brother and his wife who will take care of you,' he reassured her. ‘They live in great comfort. It will be far better for you to remain with them in the interim. Major Woodhouse has offered me an assignment abroad I was not in a position to refuse.' With a sweep of his arm, he added, ‘One that will soon see us out of here and ensconced in something far more fitting. Besides,' he gave a self-deprecating laugh, ‘I'm sure you won't deny that a little time away from me will hardly break your heart.'

This was true enough, but she was still dismayed by the circumstances in which he left her, not knowing how far away his brother lived, for he surely did not refer to Bellamy.

‘I'm …' She closed her eyes and shook her head as she forced out the words, ‘to go to your brother's house? But of course, for where else can I go? Certainly not home.'

From the doorway he fixed her with another of his almost disarming level gazes. She wanted to dismiss his words, his actions, as the platitudes of a man who had secured his comfort through her wretchedness, but increasingly her conviction that Aunt Gemma's bribes were somehow involved seemed without substance. Angus really did consider her comfort and safety as his first priority rather than an inconvenience now that adventure beckoned from across the channel.

‘Home is with me, Emily. One day, I hope, you will feel that. I shall ride to Honeyfield House to see my brother, Jonathan, and ask him to fetch you'—he offered her a rueful smile—‘as I obviously have no conveyance and his carriage is a great deal more commodious than any equipage I can hire locally.' At the look on her face he reassured her, ‘The journey is less than an hour and my sister-in-law, Caroline, is a charming, accommodating woman. I'm confident you shall enjoy every comfort while I am away. To be perfectly honest, Major Woodhouse's proposition couldn't have come at a more fortuitous moment.'

She was surprised at how touched she was by his smile when he added, ‘I hope it won't be long after I return from abroad that we shall move into a house worthy of you, Emily. I hope, then, that the rift between you and your father might be mended. You deserve to take your rightful place in society and to have your father's respect. It is every good daughter's right.'

With his attention focused on the peeling walls he did not register her horror.

‘If you think he'll forgive me you know nothing of my father!' She jerked forward in the bed. ‘Reconciliation is not possible!'

Instead of declaring roundly, as Jack might have done, that he'd make sure it all came to pass, Angus took a while to gather his thoughts. ‘You are respectably married,' he said slowly. ‘The child will be born legitimate. You've brought no shame upon your family. Restoring ties between you and your father is important.'

‘No, you don't understand.' She was close to tears as she gripped his hands which were suddenly clasping hers. ‘Papa is vengeful. I sinned. If he could find another way to compound my suffering, my shame, he'd do it.'

Angus hunkered down to take her in his arms and as she was squeezed gently but firmly she felt a strange sensation in the pit of her stomach. Not the movement of the baby and something that was quite definitely more than just gratitude for his concern.

‘You belong to me now, not your father,' he soothed.

With her ear pressed against his bare chest once again, Emily could hear the strong staccato beat of his heart. The strength of his arms around her was strangely comforting, for indeed the domineering spectre of Bartholomew Micklen did seem diluted.

Gently he lay her back down on the pillow and for a long moment she stared at him as if he were not the husband forced upon her whom she despised.

Still, it was important Angus understand. She clasped her hands and pleaded, ‘Don't petition my father for forgiveness. It will only give him another focus for his dissatisfaction with me.' She turned her head away.

‘Then I want to be the means by which you are reconciled. I can do that, Emily.'

She sucked in a quavering breath. ‘I don't know why you're so concerned that I mend ties with my father. It's not as if I came with a dowry dependant upon his goodwill.' Almost viciously she added, ‘And it's not as if you married for love.'

In the lengthening silence she regretted her words, but it was too late. Miserably she stared at the wall.

Angus stroked her hands which plucked at the bedcovers. Then, leaning over her, he kissed her brow, his murmured words filling her with immediate warmth only to be swept away by fear of her own failings. ‘My dear Emily, I married where I thought I might find it.'

Angus found his brother and sister-in-law strolling hand in hand amongst the roses when he reached Honeyfield House.

‘Already you're abandoning the new Mrs McCartney in her highly delicate condition?' Jonathan chided him. ‘A gently born woman, alone in your lodgings, Angus?'

He was not surprised they'd heard from Bellamy of his marriage and Emily's circumstances, but Angus was quick to defend himself.

‘You make it sound as if I were tying her to a stake beneath an oak tree with rations and a club to fend off wild animals,' he retorted, glad of the diversion when his young nephew bounded out from the stables.

‘Uncle Angus! Papa's bought me a prime piece of horseflesh. Come and see him!'

‘I'll see him later, Jemmy. I have a long journey ahead of me and was going to ask your father if I could borrow a fresh mount. Perhaps you could saddle him for me if your father's agreeable while I explain my visit, indoors. This horse is borrowed and his owner will fetch him this evening.'

‘Could I, Papa?' implored the boy. ‘Joseph need only
tell
me what to do.'

This agreed, Angus and Jonathan made their way to the drawing room while Caroline set about ordering a hasty meal.

‘Now tell me what this is about,' Jonathan demanded, not yet prepared to accept Caroline's gentle chiding that Angus may not deserve his censure. Easing his comfortable frame into an armchair beside the fire, he harrumphed. ‘You've been mighty havey cavey, Angus. You know I'd deny you nothing within my power, but I think we're owed an explanation.'

A quick précis of events had Caroline's kind, homely faced creased with concern. ‘I shall fetch her myself. Lord only knows what terrors the poor woman is suffering, knowing she'll soon not have you by her side.'

Jonathan was more interested in what Angus was not telling them and asked, as they repaired to the dining room a little while later, ‘So you're to France, you say?'

‘Did I say that?' Angus smiled as he sat down in a velvet upholstered chair. ‘I'm taking tomorrow's packet across the channel at any rate.'

Three plates of steaming beef broth were placed before them. Jonathan's spoon hovered as he said, ‘Honeyfield House is open to your wife for as long as required, there's no argument there. Even you, Angus, must realise a woman can't be expected to survive in those lodgings you've always deemed comfortable enough. But you're leaving her within a fortnight of your marriage?'

At Caroline's fresh objection he checked himself: ‘I mean five months. At least, Bellamy told me,
sotto voce
, that this is what must be put about if reputations are not to be besmirched.'

Angus smiled at them both. ‘I gladly entrust her to your care. Another thing,' he added as he picked up his spoon, ‘on my return from France I intend paying a call upon Emily's father.' He looked at Jonathan. ‘I daresay you recall Bartholomew Micklen. His welcome was not one that is easily forgotten. He's disowned Emily, but I believe a reconciliation would restore her spirits like nothing else I can think of.'

Jonathan looked surprised. ‘The girl's better off without him.' He spooned up his broth. ‘Since you made plain your interest in her when we called at Honeyfield House that
memorable
afternoon, I made enquiries. Fact is, I've heard much since that doesn't reflect too well on Micklen. Lord, and now you've married the girl!' he added in an undertone.

Caroline was more sanguine. ‘Your honourable actions saved Emily's family from disgrace, Angus. She's as respectably married as any expectant bride and I've no doubt your father-in-law will extend to you a warmly reconsidered reception and, indeed, welcome the opportunity to restore ties between himself and his daughter.'

Directly after he'd left Honeyfield House and with the light still bright, Angus paid his mother the necessary duty call.

She lived a further twenty minutes' hard riding from Jonathan and Caroline and his visit to his bereft mama could wait no longer.

After being ushered into her darkened private withdrawing room he sat on the chaise longue beside her, holding her hand while she, in a laudanum-induced stupor, repeated the litany of gushing eulogies to her one true love, Angus's biological father with whom she'd conducted a torrid year-long affair when her husband, Sir John, had been in thrall to his latest mistress. Within an hour Lady McCartney was sleeping peacefully and, after a short and cordial conversation with Sir John, the only father he'd known, Angus rose from the leather sofa before the study fire.

‘I hope to broker a more conciliatory relationship between Micklen and his daughter,' he said in answer to Sir John's inquiry regarding his in-laws. ‘Their home is not far from where I take the boat to France.'

His marriage had been discussed in oblique terms. Angus assumed Bellamy must have regaled all with a highly coloured version of events, for Sir John merely grunted as he walked Angus to the front steps.

‘How do you propose to keep this unhappy creature in your current straitened circumstances since I gather she's brought no dowry? Whole affair's decidedly out of character, my dear boy.'

‘I'm about to resign my commission, and I hope it won't be long before I realise the funds.' Angus pondered how much to tell him. ‘My trip abroad is on His Majesty's Service and well remunerated.'

They shook hands, Angus halfway down the stairs when Sir John stopped him. ‘I haven't given you a wedding present.'

‘I didn't expect one, sir—'

‘Nor should you. Unbecoming secrecy.' Something like a smile played about Sir John's lips. ‘Your wife … Bellamy says she's a beauty. No doubt her eyes'd sparkle at the prospect of owning a choker of pretty stones?'

‘I hardly think—' Awkwardly, Angus tried to deflect him.

‘Bellamy also tells me you're in need of horseflesh. So what'll it be: the pick of my stable – except for Milton and Bess, of course – or the McCartney choker?'

Angus stared at him. ‘But won't mother—?'

‘Good lad, you've not disappointed me. So you wish to add to your consequence in your new wife's eyes. The future of your union augurs better than your poor mother's and mine. Don't worry, I'll see what I can do to get you saddled in the meantime, regardless. As for the diamonds, it's been a long time since they could fit around your mother's neck and she'll not begrudge you them. You've always been her favourite.'

Angus returned from his visits to find the household in uproar.

‘Thank the Lord you're here, Major!' Miranda dropped a bloodied sheet upon the hearth and wiped her forehead with her hessian apron. ‘She's losing the babe, sir. Oh, Lordy, but it would come too early. Doctor's on his way so you must go up to her.'

Angus took the stairs two at a time and flung himself onto his knees at Emily's side.

‘Help me up,' she whispered, her face white as chalk. ‘I need to move. I can't bear the pain just lying here like this.'

‘But shouldn't you—'

‘Just help me to my feet!' She clenched shut her eyes and flinched as another spasm of pain gripped her.

‘Emily …' He didn't know what to say, but he did as she bid, supporting her weight on his arm, helping to keep her upright. ‘The doctor won't be long.' He had no idea when the doctor would come but he had to give her hope.

‘He won't be able to do anything.' Her eyes flared with another sudden pain before she resumed her rhythmic circuit of the small bedroom. ‘I can feel the pangs. The baby's coming too early and there's nothing anyone can do,' she sobbed.

God! He could almost feel her pain. ‘Please know how much I want this baby, Emily.' He held her to him for a brief moment before she pulled away, compelled, it seemed, to keep moving. It did not deter him from saying what had to be said. ‘This baby will unite us. I
wanted
to marry you, Emily, but you'd not have had me unless you had no other choice. I'm sorry that's the way it was. I'd have wanted you to accept my suit on my own merits, but—' He bore the weight of her as she paced, hoping she was registering his words though she said nothing. ‘That's why I rejoiced in this child. It was
because
of it that we could become united. A family.' Anguish clawed at him. She had to understand the truth of it.

‘Well, it's too late,' she sobbed between clenched teeth. ‘I'm losing the baby and there will never be another—'

‘There will be more.'

‘Not Jack's baby!' She clapped her hand to her mouth. ‘I'm so sorry,' she gasped, on another spasm of pain.

He rubbed her shoulders as she pressed herself against the wall, seemingly to escape the pain. Dully, he said, ‘I heard nothing.' It was the only response he could think of, but her words cut deep. Jack had been dead nearly six months and still her heart cleaved to him with as much passion as she obviously rejected her marriage to Angus. Swallowing, he begged her in a low voice, ‘Come, sit down on the bed, Emily. You should rest.'

‘You know nothing of what it is to suffer birth pangs!' she cried, pulling out of his grasp. ‘I cannot sit down. I'm a prisoner to the pain. I must move.'

She continued to pace, clutching her stomach while she muttered, ‘I should have known I'd not paid my dues. My father told me I would pay for my sins. He said I got off too lightly by marrying you.'

Angus stared at her, helplessly. ‘This is not your punishment, Emily. For reasons we'll never know, the baby is coming too early, but it's not your fault.'

She forced a smile and he felt a pang to his very core as she reached out and briefly touched his hand. ‘You are a good man, Angus,' she whispered. ‘I wish I could love you, but you must leave for France tomorrow and I am glad for it. I don't think I could have borne this sorrow with you by my side.'