Читать книгу Marrying Mischief - Lyn Stone - Страница 11

The day had crawled by like a fly through molasses, Emily thought as she thumped down yet another tome of dreadful prose. Her patience with the printed word was scant at best, and pared even thinner by the scarcity of anything interesting in the earl’s library.

She jumped when the enormous ormolu clock struck the first chime of seven. Would Nicholas never send for her? Surely all the men had eaten by now.

He had promised she could see Josh after dinner. Her own meal had been delivered half an hour ago. The plain fare had little to recommend it, or else excitement had diminished her hunger so that she could scarcely taste a thing.

“Are you ready to visit?” Nick asked as he stuck his head around the door. “That brother of yours is demanding your presence.”

“It’s about time!” she exclaimed as she rushed to join him. “How is he this evening?”

“Doing exceptionally well, but dreadfully anxious to see you.” Nicholas took her arm, more to prevent her unseemly haste than to lend escort, Emily decided. “That blue you’re wearing does wonders for your eyes.”

“You’re very kind,” she said, using her most formal tone. Determined to project her most ladylike behavior and do justice to her attire, she adopted a slower, more graceful gait that would have done the countess proud.

When they reached the hallway leading to her brother’s room, however, she almost broke into a run. The door stood open and she would have dashed through it to hug him if Nicholas had not grasped her arm. “Wait. You should not approach too closely just yet,” he warned. “Let’s be prudent.”

“Joshua, darling!” she said, so desperately happy to see him, gripping the doorjamb with one hand and Nicholas’s arm with the other for support.

How tall Josh had grown these past months! Her eager gaze traveled from his beloved face to his skinny arms and then the length of his legs beneath the covers. She’d been twelve when he was born. With their mother a victim of childbed fever shortly after that, Josh’s care had fallen to her. He was more like a son than a brother. And now her dear boy was nearly grown.

“Tell me how you are,” she pleaded. “I would hear it from you.”

“Well enough.” He crossed his lanky arms over his concave chest and deepened his frown. “And I am bound to tell you, sister,” he announced, his voice much deeper and more forceful than she remembered. He pinned her with a glare. “You have sealed your fate by coming here.”

“No, no, my dear, you must not worry about that,” she said, holding out one hand as if she was touching him, soothing him. “Lord Kendale assures me that the danger of contagion is no longer of much concern. You must not fret—”

“Contagion is not the problem I am addressing, Emily,” he declared. “It is your very presence among us that will do you worse than a bout with the cholera.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “What in the world could be worse than that?”

He took a deep breath, his glare whipping to Nicholas, then back to her. “You will be damned by everyone you know if he does not marry you. Am I not correct in this, my lord?”

She heard Nicholas clear his throat. At first, she believed he would not answer Josh’s impertinence, for the silence stretched on for what seemed too long. Then he sighed. “You have the right of it, Loveyne. Indeed. She has been compromised beyond help, through no fault of her own.”

“Or of yours!” Emily exclaimed. “Nicholas, you cannot possibly be considering—”

“That marriage between us would solve matters. Joshua has a perfect right to make the demand,” he said without inflection.

“But he doesn’t understand,” she argued. “Josh cannot possibly realize the complications such a mésalliance would involve.”

“He is your brother, Emily,” Nicholas replied as if that justified the matter of Josh’s interference. “No one can force you to accept, of course, but I shall make my offer. Will you marry me?”

As proposals went, she found it sorely lacking in emotion. His expression was devoid of feeling, his voice too carefully controlled to betray a jot of either satisfaction or anger. She could in no way discern what Nicholas was really thinking about all of this. Small wonder. He was caught in a trap of her making with only one honorable way out of it unless she refused him.

She should refuse. Her heart sank in despair. On the one hand, she would have to render useless her brother’s demand and risk both his pride and his good opinion of her.

Judging by the look on Joshua’s face at the moment, he would never forgive her if she spurned his effort to protect her.

On the other hand, she could agree to a marriage that was almost certain to founder upon the rocks of Nicholas’s resentment and their social inequality.

He did not really love her. She had been nothing to him but a youthful indiscretion, easily discarded and all but forgotten.

His father had said that he was betrothed to Dierdre Worthing. However, Emily knew he did not love Dierdre, either, or he would have come back to England and married her long before now. Despite her apparent suitability, that one would make Nick a terrible wife, Emily thought wickedly. How tempting it was to know she could prevent that with a word.

Nicholas’s strong fingers tightened on her arm. In warning or encouragement? she wondered.

“Emily, this is not open to argument,” Joshua declared, sounding for all the world like their father in one of his rare attempts at disciplining them when they were younger. As if he had read her mind, he added, “You know very well what Father will say. You have no damned choice. None.”

She gaped at him. “Joshua James Loveyne, you mind your language!”

He glared back. “Then you mind your reputation!”

“Here now, there’s no cause to quarrel,” Nicholas admonished. “Emily will do the right thing. She only needs a few moments to adjust to the idea,” he said to Josh, as if she were not there.

“‘A few moments?”’ she snapped, yanking her arm out of Nick’s grasp. “‘The right thing’? Since when? It might have been the right thing seven years ago after what you did! Now, I’m not altogether certain I would have you if you went on bended knee and begged, Nicholas Hollander! Oh, excuse me, my lord,” she said with all the sarcasm she could muster. “I should use your title, should I not? Have you thought of that at all? How do you think I would answer to my lady?” She threw up both hands for emphasis. “Your esteemed father vowed I would be laughed out of the country should I even aspire to become a countess!”

“My father would have said anything to drive a larger wedge between us, Emily. You know he had another bride in mind for me.”

She shook with rage. “A flaming pity she so conveniently escaped your mind when it most counted! I should like to have known of her myself before I fell into your arms like some shameless trollop!”

“Wait! What’s this?” Joshua demanded, springing upright in the bed.

Nicholas strode over to him and braced his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “You stay right where you are, young man.”

“Fetch your weapons, sir,” Josh growled, “I demand satisfaction for my sister’s honor.”

Emily could have laughed at Nick’s expression of dismay if she had not been so worried Josh truly would do something foolish. Nick would never allow a duel of any kind, but her brother’s beet-red face and clenched jaw told her he would neither forget nor forgive until he had acquired some sort of satisfaction.

“Josh, he didn’t—Nicholas did not dishonor me,” she hurried to explain. “I spoke only of the kiss. You’ve known of that for ages. Everyone knows of it. Nothing else happened, I promise. Not ever.”

Except for Nicholas making her feel treasured, acting as if he loved her, actually saying how he would never want anyone else but her. However, she couldn’t let herself dwell upon those lies at the moment or she’d be demanding the pistols herself.

“Just the kiss? You swear?” Josh directed his question to Nick.

“On my honor, I swear,” Nicholas replied. “And I would have married her then if circumstances had not prevented it. I will marry her now, so there is no need for all this uproar. Do you want a relapse when you are nearly well?”

He would have married her then? What an outright lie! How dare he say such a thing? She wanted to scream at him for it, but Emily could tell Nick’s patience was already thin enough to read a book through. Josh’s trembling now looked more a result of exhaustion than anger.

Her brother was not up to this. Nor was she. And Nicholas ought to be more careful where he flung his half-baked proposals.

“When?” she asked, commanding their sudden and undivided attention.

“Tomorrow,” Josh answered without pause.

“As soon as your father comes here looking for you,” Nick amended. “I regret I cannot allow anyone to go and inform him and request his presence. You both know the reason. He will come tomorrow or the next day, surely, for there are too few places you could have gone other than here.”

“Very well,” she agreed, sounding as reluctant as she felt. Once they were married, she fully intended to be a good wife to Nicholas, but she could not help regretting how the marriage was to come about.

The main problem was, she had not realized just how frightfully angry she still was with him. For several years now she’d believed she had forgiven him for the most part, and that he no longer mattered so much to her. Now that she’d seen him again, she knew that neither was true.

Pride insinuated its ugly head, as well, she thought. It galled her that he acted as if he had done nothing to ruin her life thus far and was now doing her a huge favor.

Also, she did not relish explaining the necessity of the marriage to her father. It only underlined her greatest fault, her impulsiveness. “You will make the explanations,” she told Nicholas in no uncertain terms.

“I expected to do so,” he assured her. “I will ask for you as is right and proper.”

“‘Right and proper,”’ she repeated to herself, shook her head at the irony of it all, and turned away from the doorway to Josh’s chamber. She did not even wish them good-night.

It would serve them both right if they didn’t sleep a wink. She was certain she would not be able to close her eyes.

“A moment, Em,” Nick called as she crossed the garden to the house. She kept walking. “Wait, I say! We need to talk about this.”

“Why?” Emily asked over her shoulder. “You have my consent. What else is required?”

He caught up to her and fell in step. “Look, Em, I am sorry things have turned out as they have. I want you to know—”

“That you wish I had kept myself outside your walls,” she interrupted. “I realize that. So do I, but I did not, and now we are stuck with the consequences.”

“No,” he protested vehemently. “That’s not what I mean at all. Marriage is not such a dire fate, now is it? You have already admitted there’s no other man whom you wish to wed.”

“Ah, true enough,” she began sagely, “but there is another woman who thinks she is a part of your future.”

“There was never an understanding between Dierdre and myself,” Nick insisted, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Certainly nothing legally binding. Even if Lord Worthing ever expected a marriage between us, he would say nothing publicly. Fear of scandal would prevent him.”

“So one would hope,” she said. “And what of the scandal that will affect your good name, my lord? A common bride gained under rather common conditions?”

Much to her surprise, he laughed. “Everyone will doubtless assume we’re a love match.”

“But we, of course, will know better, will we not.” She did not ask it as a question, for they both knew the answer.

He reached for her hand and held on, even when she would have pulled away. “Emily, I know how you feel about me now, but marriage will be the best thing. Think, you’ll not have to serve as a governess to make your way and support your father and Josh. You may have whatever you need, whatever you want. As a matter of fact, I am nearing thirty and it’s past time I wed. So you see? We shall both benefit.”

She could not believe what she was hearing from the very man who once oozed charm as if he owned the patent on the commodity. “Convenient, is it?” she asked in a clipped voice.

Nicholas inclined his head thoughtfully. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it is.”

He supposed? And she was expected to smile sweetly and open her arms to him now? Surrender all her pride, forget what he had done and thank him for the privilege of becoming his wife? Devil take him!

“Fine!” she announced, jerking her hand away and clenching it into a fist, which she shook at him forcefully. “Then let us make it imminently convenient for the both of us! I shall keep to my own bed after the sham vows are recited and you shall keep to yours! Or anyone else’s bed you fancy, for all I care!”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he demanded, his dark brows coming together to make a vicious V over his angry eyes. His lips drew into a firm line and she could see a muscle work rhythmically in his jaw.

She propped her fists on her hips. “Well, if you didn’t understand what I said, my lord, perhaps it is you who need a governess. Since we are to have a loveless union and it is all for outward show, there will be no consummation of it. Do you understand that, sir, or need I make it plainer still?”

For a long moment fraught with tension, he said absolutely nothing. Then his features slowly smoothed out into an unreadable expression. “I did promise that you could have whatever you wanted,” he said softly. “Whether you believe it or not, I am a man of my word. Just be certain you really want what you demand.”

He pushed past her and entered the house. She did not see him again until just after the brute called Wrecker came the next morning to summon her to the front gates.

“Good thing ye donned a fancy frock,” he told her as soon as she opened the door of her room. “Yer Da is here ta make a honest woman of ye.”

Emily gathered up the slightly too long skirts of the countess’s mint-colored muslin morning gown and followed Wrecker down the stairs. She could swear she heard a voice softly singing “Greensleeves” in a sprightly off-key soprano. A voice that the burly sailor either chose to ignore, or else could not hear. It sounded amazingly like the countess.

Emily shook her head to clear it of the fanciful notion, but the phantom sound continued.

“Well, I’m glad you are happy,” Emily muttered under her breath.

“Oh, aye, ma’am. Nothin’ like a good weddin’, I always say,” Wrecker announced. “Long as it ain’t mine.”

The moment they exited the house, Emily saw Nicholas waiting beside the gates. He wore dove-gray trousers, Hessians and a dark blue coat. This was the first time in her two days here that she had seen him so impeccably turned out. Somehow it touched her to know he would go to the trouble to dress so nicely for their impromptu wedding.

She was glad she had decided to put up her hair and attempt to make a good show of herself. Also, it had been wise of her to wear one of the countess’s dresses instead of her own dark gabardine frock that had seen better days. She would have felt mortified had she attended this appearing like a frump when Nick had gone to so much bother.

In all honesty, she knew she should have felt more compunction about wearing another woman’s clothing, but somehow the soft, lovely gowns soothed and warmed her in the same way her gentle mother’s embrace had done when she was a child. Strange that should be so when Emily had hardly known Lady Elizabeth.

Two guards wearing crooked, wrinkled cravats, hair slicked down and scarred boots polished, stood nearby. Dr. Evans, whom she had met only in passing, was there, as well. Through the wrought-iron bars, she saw her father standing alone some yards away.

The familiar shock of white hair, the dreamy gray eyes under wire-rimmed spectacles, and the portly figure contained in slightly out-of-date black attire, made her ache to hug this sweet man she loved so dearly. Would he understand her predicament? Would he approve what they were about to do to rectify it?

She waved as she approached and spoke to him when she drew close enough for him to hear. “What do you think, Father? Have I gone completely beyond the pale this time?”

He smiled, as she’d expected he would, and gestured toward Nicholas with his prayer book. “Moot question, but not to worry, child. His lordship has matters well in hand, my dear. Yes, yes, I’m certain you’ll do right well with one another.” In an abrupt change of subject that was totally characteristic of him, he asked, “You’ve seen Joshua?”

Emily brightened, happy to bring her father good news. “Just last evening. I wish he could be out here so you could see him. His health is improving, however, and you’ll not believe how he’s grown, Da. His voice is so deep and, though he’s still abed and ’twas hard to tell for sure, he looks to have grown a foot taller these past months.”

“Good, good. Well he should grow, now shouldn’t he? Be strange if he didn’t at his age.”

“Pardon me, sir, but we ought to proceed,” Nicholas interjected. “It is misting and we wouldn’t want our Emily to catch a chill on her wedding day.”

Emily shot him a frown. How dare he interrupt her conversation when she was reassuring her father about her brother’s health. But the men already standing there and those who’d just joined them, were watching them as closely as if this were a tennis match. She knew better than to set up a contest of wills with Nick when she had no prayer of winning. She must choose her battles.

The very idea that she could not afford to speak her mind made the urge to do so all the greater, but she kept her mouth firmly shut and stifled the longing. Impulse had been her downfall too many times to give in to it.

“Now, now,” her father admonished Nicholas. “No need to rush on account of that. My daughter’s as hardy as one of your sailors there. Got a strong constitution, my girl has. Never sick. Never.”

Emily almost rolled her eyes in exasperation. Fine thing, her own parent likening her with a seasoned tar. And Nicholas did not have to add insult to injury by allowing his amusement to show. She was already jumpy as a rabbit. Did they both have to make matters worse?

“Let’s get on with it,” she snapped. She marched forward and stationed herself at Nicholas’s left.

“Pretend, Emily,” he said, leaning near her ear to speak softly so that only she could hear.

She searched his eyes to see whether he was making sport of her at this particularly inappropriate moment, but it appeared he was now quite serious.

“Stretch those lovely lips into a smile,” he ordered, hardly moving his lips when he said it. “And for pity’s sake, take my hand. Pinch me if it makes you feel better, but do not outwardly betray your reluctance further or it will trouble the vicar. I have just spent half an hour convincing him that we are well suited.”

“Half an hour? A great deal more than you spent persuading me,” she muttered. But she did as he suggested. She pasted on the most pleasant face she could manage under the circumstances and thrust out her chin. In a louder voice, she said, “Shall we begin?”

The lines her father read and the vows required were those Emily had heard dozens of times in her years as the vicar’s daughter. She had witnessed weddings of great joy and meaning, and those where couples were less than enthusiastic. Never had she been a party to a total travesty such as this. She feared lightning might strike one or the other of them before the deed was done.

Fate would have served her better if she didn’t still love the cad, but she did promise to do that much since she had no choice in the matter. God alone knew she had tried for years to banish him from her heart with no success. It seemed he was stuck there like a nettle that could not be pulled free.

And she would be faithful, she thought to herself, almost laughing aloud at the idea of searching out any other man. She’d had problems enough with this one, even when he’d been absent. Heaven only knew how much trouble he’d be now that he was back again. Yes. One man would be more than enough.

When her father mentioned the part about obeying, Emily crossed the fingers of her left hand, hidden within the folds of her skirt.

As for honoring him with her body, Emily stumbled over those words when prompted to repeat them. Nicholas had reached for her free hand and was grasping both now as if he knew about the crossed fingers, daring her to avoid the promise.

She was making it under duress, Emily told herself. Even so, she supposed she would have to live up to it, in spite of her demand that they not share a bed.

However, nothing in the vicar’s little book of ceremonies required her to say when she must. Nick could jolly well wait until she felt like it.

“I will,” she answered.

Nick squeezed her hands and smiled down at her.

She started to say, “Eventually,” aloud, but the word would not form on her lips. Too many ears were listening and her courage did not extend quite that far.