The Stanhope Challenge - Regency Quartet - Four Regency Romances (34 page)

The door banged open, bouncing off the far wall.

Trayne backed up toward her. “Get away from me! Get out!”

He lifted the gun and took aim.

But he howled in pain as she sank the knife into his buttock. And removed it and struck again!

He jumped forward.

Right into the arms of her husband.

“Hello, darling!” Jack grinned at her as he passed Trayne from his arms to that of another burly creature. “Take this animal away, Sheriff.” Jack came toward her, saw the bloody blade and grimaced. “Taking up carving, are you, sweetheart?”

“Only rump roasts, Jack,” she got out with a shot of humor that surprised her, considering the terror that had her trembling.

Grinning, Jack pried the knife from her stiff fingers and kneeled before her to untie her ropes. Rubbing her wrists, he frowned and dropped kisses to her bruised flesh. She gasped and rose up to curl her arms around his shoulders and cling to him.

He stroked her back, the thud of his heart a fierce pounding against her chest. “Are you well? Did you hurt you?” He brushed her hair from her face and ran his hands over her shoulders and arms. “Let me see you.”

Tears of happiness dribbled down her cheeks. “I’m stiff and sore. But he never hurt me. He wanted to. Said he would. But didn’t.” From the corner of her eye, she noted how three men tied the hands of Benjamin Trayne. “Oh, Jack! How did you find me?”

He rocked her in his embrace. “A short story I will gladly tell you. Shall I recount it as we go home?”

****

Emma drank tea on the veranda outside her bedroom and watched the swallows dance in the trees. Spring came to the north of England now that early April had arrived. The air seemed fresh and gentle breezes wafted over her face as she took another sip.

She inhaled the fragrances of new grass and flower buds. Her body, thankfully, was stronger, recovering from the bondage and confinement that the ogre Benjamin Trayne had imposed upon her for nigh unto three days and four nights.

That nightmare had ended more than ten days ago and here, in her husband’s home, she had recovered much of her physical strength. But her heart was sore.

Though Jack had been loving and solicitous, demanding that they not ride home that night but take a room in an inn close by and then hiring a coach the next day to drive her back to Durham Manor, she was now alone. Jack, seeing to her comfort with his staff constantly fluttering about her, had demanded she sleep in her own bedroom alone. Furthermore, he had ordered her to remain in bed for at least two full days. She had balked and complained of his orders, even secretly arising to stretch her limbs in joyous abandon and scurrying back to bed whenever he poked his head in her door. Then, just as he had surprised her when he burst through Trayne’s cottage door in Stanley, he shocked her when he left her a note one morning.

“Gone to London, darling. Sorry, but I did not want to wake you before I left. And I must be off quickly. Eat well and stay in bed!”

For what she now wanted from him, this had been a miserable note to receive.

She had not remained in bed. Indeed out of pique, she had taken to long walks in the gardens. She no longer had Trayne to fear. The sheriff had seen to that man’s incarceration for abducting her. Jack told her, too, that Trayne would come before a judge soon to hear his case. Her stepfather, Pinrose, whose note to Jack was as good as an admission of complicity in her abduction, would face criminal charges in London as well.

Emma told herself she ought to be satisfied with those events. Still, she wanted more. She wanted Jack.

And she worried, now that she had time and occasion, that her original offer to him was now inadequate to the totality of all that she did desire from him.

And how to tell him, how to ask for more when he remained in London?

She had asked Simmons if he knew why his master had gone. “His lordship does not confide his personal issues with me, my lady.”

Emma contemplated her options. What was best to do now? With Jack away and only a little more than a month gone since she first waylaid him in front of White’s, she had two more months’ time before she could return to speak to her solicitors and fulfill the terms of her father’s will. Gaining her inheritance and her freedom seemed like the best course of action, whether or not her marriage lasted beyond that period. It was, after all, what she had originally sought. Best to stick to her plan and accomplish what she could.

She rose and putting her cup and saucer aside, knew she needed to exercise her mind as well as her body.

Pulling on the coat that Jack had ordered for her, she buttoned up the frog closures and descended the stairs and walked out the front door to the side garden. A maze of tall boxwoods, dotted with stone benches and a few sculptures, the walk was one she delighted in for its complexity. Not once in the past few days had she turned the same way or become bored. Often, she had a devil of a time finding her way out. The mental challenge, she told herself, would steer away her mood.

But that was easier said than done. Finding a bench, she sat and considered her life these past few weeks. She loved her husband for his generosity of spirit to help her and his devotion to see the bargain through, even saving her physically from Trayne’s ridiculous kidnapping. So she had what she wanted from Jack. And if she had grown to care for him beyond the boundaries of their bargain, well then that was her challenge. Hers alone. She sighed in sadness. She was lonely. For her husband.

And what if he never returns to me?

Ah, that was foolish to believe. He cared for her, did he not? What man made love to a woman the way he did if he did not care for her?

And how knowledgeable am I of men? And love?

She jumped to her feet, cold tears streaming down her face. She dashed them away, chilling criticism of her naiveté ringing in her mind. She ran for the house and her bedroom.

In the kitchen, she found Simmons talking with Cook and demanded he bring to her bedroom a reticule. “Any size. One of his lordship’s, if you must. And I want you to instruct the groom to ready the brougham for me.”

When Simmons brought a leather satchel up to her bedroom, she had him place it on a bedside stool. The servant stood to one side while she folded chemises and stockings, scarves and fichus inside.

“You may leave, Simmons.” She could not bear censure from him.

“His lordship will not approve, my lady, that you have left without him knowing.”

“His lordship,” she replied with determination, “is not here. And I will not be bound. Not deterred, do you hear me?”

“Can I not entice you to stay, Emma?”

She spun toward the far door.

Jack.

He nodded to Simmons, who promptly hurried away and shut the door.

Her husband’s dark silver gaze took in the pile of her clothes, her body, her hair, her expression. With nary a word, he strolled toward her and raised his brows.

Emma lifted her chin.

“Where are you going?”

“Were have you been?” she countered, peevish as a fishwife.

“London.” From his dust-covered breeches and green frock coat, it was clear he had returned home with all due speed and perhaps on horseback.

She dared not allow herself the hope that this implied he hurried home to her.

“Where are you going, Emma?” he asked again, his large body looming over her, his eyes stark, his mouth stretched in grim lines.

“I…I thought I would visit my mother.” She continued to arrange her clothes in the case.

“I know she would like that.”

She glanced around at him. “You do? How?”

“I saw her three days ago. I went to Kent to talk to her. Introduce myself.”

Emma surveyed his features. Charming man, rogue that he was, how could he be so endearing as to travel to visit her mother? Why now, even as she planned to leave him, did his actions surprise her? His devotion enchant her? “Why?”

“To tell her what happened with her husband. She did not know. I thought she should.”

Emma nodded, at a loss as to the deeper motivation for Jack’s visit. “Of course. She needed to know.”

“She is relieved. In fact,” Jack said as he dug a small envelope from his inner coat pocket, “she sends you this.”

Emma took it from him and with shaking fingers, tore open the parchment. As she read, tears obscured her vision. “She says she is well. Better than she has been in months, because you have come and told her about Daniel’s arrest.” She cleared the lump in her throat, then peered up at him. “I am grateful.”

“I know, darling. You always are.” He tried to smile and failed. “Will you tell me why you are leaving me?”

Because I want more from you than I expected. Because I was a fool to ask for so little and I shall never recover from wanting so much from our affair.

She bit her lip and reached for another petticoat to throw into the satchel.

He took a step closer, one hand to her wrist to waylay her. “Why, Emma?”

“Because all I have asked of you, you have done. We are finished.”

“And if I tell you we are not?”

She stomped her foot, feeling foiled and petulant, angry and neglected. “You will not coddle me.”

He reached out to push an errant curl back behind her ear. “But you need it.”

“No.”

“And I enjoy it.” His lips curved up in a soft sweet smile. “Where’s the harm?”

“I could find it amusing. Addictive.” She shied away from him.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, burying his lips in her hair. “I find you enthralling. Necessary to my days.”

“Don’t do this.” She broke away. “You do not need to be kind to me any longer.”

“Yes, I certainly do,” he said with a sorrow that lived in his eyes and tore at her need to fly from him. “Will you come sit with me and let me tell you what I have done?”

Biting her lip, she nodded and followed him to two Chippendale chairs by the window.

“I had to return to London to testify against Daniel. He is in gaol, not soon to be let out, not only because of this charge but also others brought by two men whom he defrauded. I also had to deposit monies in a company of which my father and I now hold the major shares. Pinrose was excluded from this venture by my father and me.”

“For me?”

“Yes.” He acknowledged. “I am happy to say for you.”

“Clearly your father did this not for me so much as to aid you.”

“And to get into my good graces. Perhaps that of Wes and Adam. Clarice, too. He is trying his damnedest to turn a leaf and change his life.”

She reached over to squeeze his hand.

He would not let her go. “While in London, I also paid a call on Jared Draycomb.”

“My father’s solicitor.”

“Yes.” Jack nodded. “And the executor of his estate. I informed him of our marriage, showed him the license and the certificate from our vicar here with his signature and the date of the wedding.”

Emma sat straighter. “What did he say?”

“Congratulations.” Jack grinned and she did too. “I also told him that as of the tenth of June, when you will be married to me officially for ninety days, you will appear in his offices for the official dispensation of your father’s assets into your keeping.”

“Oh, Jack!” She felt her heart burst open with love and pride in him. “What did he say?”

Jack lifted a shoulder. “The only thing he could, my dear. He offered me his congratulations on our wedding and then invited you to come promptly at nine on the morning of the eleventh of June to receive your due.”

She stayed quite still, her mind awhirl. “According to the current law, I cannot take those assets to my own keeping unless I am divorced or widowed.” Her statement, she knew, begged the question of what Jack would do about their marriage within those next months. Divorce her or —?

“Precisely,” he said and rose from his chair. His hands clasped behind him, he strode away from her toward the window. “Your orphanage is a fine project which awaits funding.”

She froze. He would leave her. Divorce her. Oh, no, no. She had to save her own pride here and so she said, “You know how grateful I am for what you have done for me, Jack. No other man would have done more and I—”

“Emma.”

She had to look at him, but once more, she found that difficult with tears in her eyes.

“Emma, I am here prepared to make you an offer.”

She blinked, the word surprised her and yes, even pleased her. Yet wary, she asked, “What kind of offer?”

“I told Draycomb I would remain married to you until June eleventh.”

“Oh, god.” A hand to her brow, she could scarce believe that her good fortune was her worst.

“On that morning at ten o’clock, you may decide if you wish our marriage to end. If so, I will promptly leave the meeting with Draycomb and I will sign a statement declaring my intent to divorce you.”

On the edge of despair, she saw only bleak days without him.

“But I do earnestly hope you do not wish a divorce, Emma.” His voice fell to a harrowing softness. “I want you to stay with me, Emma, not just until the eleventh of June, but for the rest of our lives.”