Chapter Twenty-Three
Anne wrote in a hand that was neat to the point of artistry.
Dear Friend—
As I write, Mrs. MacInnis is here at Portman Square and is once again being exceedingly disagreeable to your wife. Well do I understand that you are a gentleman with great responsibilities, and I should never suggest that you neglect those. It grieves me to tell you that others speculate about your regard for my sister. It is unseemly, unkind, and hurtful to my sister. But what is one to think when, where one would expect to see a husband with his new wife, we do not see you?
She’d underlined you three times.
Others have remarked, my lord. Others have wondered if you intend—I can scarcely write these words—to abandon your marriage. It has been said in this very house. I have personally overheard those very words.
If you have any regard at all for my sister, please come to Portman Square at your earliest convenience. That woman has always been susceptible to your charms. Other thoughts of mine in this regard are reserved for some future time.
—A
A month ago, Bracebridge would not have bothered knocking at the door to Portman Square. He would have gone straight in, confident of his welcome. Now, he was not so certain. There was growing evidence that the lawyer who had interviewed his servants was connected to Emily’s family.
Aldreth’s butler opened the door. After a pause, the servant opened the door enough to admit him, though without the warmer welcome he would have expected before his marriage. The coolness was disheartening. “Good day, milord.”
“Smith.” He stepped inside and handed over his hat and coat. Cynssyr or Aldreth. One of them must be responsible for the damned lawyer. Smith’s reaction made him put Aldreth at the top of the list. “I am expected.”
“Upstairs, milord. In the parlor.”
Animated voices and laughter increased in volume as he climbed the stairs. Not a few guests, then, but many. Was Emily truly the target of scorn? If so, why had she said nothing to him about this when she must have encountered such reactions before today?
He knew the answer to that, didn’t he? He’d given her no reason to believe he would care to know. Almost every night, he told her about his day and his business affairs, sometimes at great length. Only rarely did he ask about her day, and he realized now he had been foolish to assume she would say anything other than what she believed he wanted to know.
The conversational noise increased. Whoever was playing the piano had only the virtue of enthusiasm to recommend the performance. A flute chimed in, also not played well. Out of sheer habit, he stood in the parlor door until he found Anne. Cynssyr stood at her side, one hand on her shoulder, listening intently to what she was saying. Old and familiar feelings welled up: respect, admiration, heartache, a sad longing for what might have been.
Just as he had feared, the tenderness he felt for Emily tempered his response to his feelings about Anne. His life and Anne’s had taken different paths. Why should he resent the path he had taken?
Lady Aldreth sat on the sofa nearest the fire, surrounded by the usual cadre of ardent admirers. He did not yet see Emily. As he made his way into the room, he saw Mrs. MacInnis in conversation with a woman he did not recognize and a gentleman who was a fixture at Two Fives. All three were smiling. All in all, a normal gathering at Portman Square.
He located Emily via the usual means: by finding the largest crowd of young bucks. They appeared as besotted with her as ever. Her entourage included Mr. Greenleigh, a man with a well-deserved reputation for pursuing women known to be unhappily married, and the disappointed Mr. Walter Davener.
Mrs. MacInnis broke off conversation when Bracebridge passed her on his way to greet Lady Aldreth. He held her gaze a moment too long before he nodded in acknowledgment and continued. Across the room, Emily came to her feet. Anyone looking at her would think she had nothing on her mind but how many of the gentlemen had yet to compliment her. But he knew now, that wasn’t so.
He was very much aware of others watching him, which proved Anne had not exaggerated. Emily was his wife and, as such, deserved his public respect and support. That was true whether he had moments of tender feelings toward her or not.
Anne intercepted him before he reached Lady Aldreth. He bowed over her hand. The warmth of their long friendship remained, but the ache of his disappointment was not as sharp as it had been. Time had passed.
“You came,” she said softly.
“Of course I did.” He had come because of Anne. But he had done so for Emily.
“My dear Bracebridge.” Lady Aldreth joined them and gave him her hand. Her smile lacked warmth.
“Lady Aldreth.” He bent over her hand. Emily had retaken her seat and was listening to some young buck who ought to have known better than to make cow eyes at a married woman. Her expression was dangerously smooth.
Lady Aldreth lowered her voice and addressed her elder sister. “Duchess, I hope you don’t mind, I need a word with Bracebridge. In private.”
“Certainly not.”
“Lady Aldreth, I hope you will allow me to first greet my wife.”
She met his gaze. “The subject is urgent.”
“Then I am at your disposal.” He glanced at Emily again, but a fellow in a naval uniform had her attention.
Lady Aldreth walked him out of the parlor to an office at the back of the house. She faced him, arms crossed underneath her breasts. “What’s to be done, Bracebridge?”
“About?”
“This.” She gestured with frustration. “You and Emily. Papa and Mr. Davener! And Mr. Greenleigh.”
“Forgive me, Lady Aldreth, are we quarreling?”
She took a long, deep breath. She was a Sinclair; therefore her anger was magnificent. “What have you done?”
“Today?” He intended to provoke and did. “Nothing that would interest you. Might you answer my question?”
“Yes.” She threw up her hands. “Yes, we are quarreling.”
“Why?”
“I am not amused.” She speared him with a look he’d not seen from her in some time. “Not at all.”
“Nor am I. Perhaps you might get to the point.”
“You and Emily. What on Earth possessed you to do such a thing?”
“Your esteemed father and his habit of arranging marriages for his daughters provided he receives a suitable price.”
Her fine eyes glistened with incipient tears, and the corner of her mouth trembled. “You have been a friend for years. A dear friend.” She squeezed his arm. He refused to react. “I was so sorry about you and Anne. Truly I was.”
“Thank you for your sympathy. However, as we both know, Anne is married, happily so. To be clear, you would have approved of my marriage to your elder sister but not to your youngest? Why?”
Her eyes widened. “You know why. You love Anne. You do not love Emily. You married Emily to revenge yourself on our father. Please,” she said, the word dripping with scorn, “do not make the mistake of underestimating my understanding of you, my father, or any of my sisters.”
“Believe me, I do not.”
“I shan’t forgive you for putting your satisfaction before her happiness. You must have known she would say yes.”
“I do not underestimate any Sinclair sister, including Emily.” His chest tightened unpleasantly because for quite some time, that had not been true. At least now he knew who had sent the lawyer. “It seems I overestimated your husband, though. I shall tell you, Lady Aldreth, what I shall tell him to his face. I shall not tolerate his interference in my marriage.”
“Why not? If there is a way to be free of your marriage, why not pursue it? You are no stranger to scandal.”
“No.” The ferocity with which the sisters defended each other humbled him and made his heart ache for his brothers.
“Your heart cannot be won. Not by her. If there exists a woman you can love besides Anne, then free yourself to find and marry her. I do not wish you unhappiness. Nor does Anne. But Emily deserves a husband capable of loving the woman she is.”
He did not reply. He agreed, though. Oh, how he agreed.
“You have many fine qualities, I do not dispute that. I admire you. I respect you. You have been a valued, important friend to me and my husband, and to Anne and Lucy.”
“But not Emily.”
“No. Not Emily.”
“I am her husband in the eyes of the law and in the eyes of God. She is my wife, Lady Aldreth. You won’t convince me to stand aside. Not for anything.”
“Not even her happiness?”
“Why do you assume she is unhappy?”
She laughed out loud. “Your question only proves me correct. You have always resented her joyful spirit. Your interactions with her have always had an element of condescension to her. It did not matter before. It does now. Believe you me, my lord, it matters now.”
“I do not resent her.”
“You do,” she said softly. “I am sorry, but you do, and you had best learn to see your marriage and your wife with open eyes. You resent what makes Emily beautiful inside because it’s not what Anne is like. If there is the slightest chance the marriage can be set aside, why not take it? You do her no good by remaining in this farce of a marriage.” She lifted a hand to prevent his interrupting. “Your loyalty to Anne came at Emily’s expense.” She drew a sharp breath. “I don’t know that I shall ever forgive you for that. You can only make her unhappy. She’s been through enough. Enough.”
Understanding dawned. His enemy was not Aldreth or Cynssyr. “It’s you who sent a lawyer to interview my servants.”
“Cynssyr has bought a property for her. In Little Merton. Did you know that?”
“She told me.”
“Let her live there while others work to free you both.”
“You have no legal standing to interfere in my marriage. It would be ludicrous even if Aldreth were acting on your behalf.”
“Marriages are set aside often enough that I know it can be done. Emily has powerful connections, and I assure you they can and shall be brought to bear against you.”
“Have you told Emily what you’ve done?” The deadness inside him expanded. “Does she approve?”
“She hasn’t any idea.” Lady Aldreth was blithe and unrepentant. “I did not take my decision lightly. I am fully cognizant of the scandal that attends an annulment or divorce. But I would rather endure the scandal of the decade than see her trapped in a marriage that cannot make either of you happy. I should think, my lord, if you have any regard for her at all, that you would want the same.”
“There are no grounds for divorce. Or annulment. You shall not have any cooperation from me. The marriage is legal. Your sister is my wife. Best resign yourself to that fact.”
“That is your pride speaking. Your stubbornness. It’s a trait you share with your late father, by the way.”
“She may have conceived by me already. Do you see nothing wrong with putting our future children at risk of illegitimacy?” The words came off his tongue hot as fire, and his mind processed what he’d said only after their utterance. Our children. Ours, not my.
“If that’s so, my lord, congratulations. She should retreat to Little Merton as soon as her condition is confirmed.” She smiled. “She can have her lying-in at Rosefeld, attended by those who love her and want only the best for her. If she gives you a son, you need never see her again.”
“How long have you been my enemy? Since Anne? Or before then?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She was chillingly calm. “I would have been pleased beyond measure if you had married Anne. Aldreth and I hoped that you would.” She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. “Think on what I’ve said, Bracebridge. It’s not too late to make this right.”
“I have already done what is right.” Not entirely true, but close enough.
Lady Aldreth fell silent for several moments. “I became your enemy the moment you married Emily knowing that she loves you when you do not.”
The parlor door opened, then closed, with a purposeful click. Whatever the reason for the interruption, he was grateful, for he was close to words that would likely have ended in a permanent rupture between him and Aldreth’s wife.
When he turned, he saw Emily with her hand on the doorknob and her attention on her sister. “Mary.” She pushed away from the door and walked toward them. “Please do not speak so to my husband.”
Lady Aldreth wheeled on her sister. “It’s for your own good.”
“I believe you mean that. I know you do.” Emily crossed the room to him and linked arms with him. “In this matter, you are wrong. I shall always be the youngest, but I am no longer a girl who needs direction and advice at every turn. I have not been for some time now. I beg you to please accept that and to keep in your mind that I am not a child, not legally and not in fact. You insult me with your assumption that I was powerless to refuse his offer. You insult me again when you assume I did not understand the state of his heart and mine when he proposed marriage. I assure you: I did know, and I took that into consideration.”
“Emily.”
The parallels between him and Lady Aldreth were ironic indeed. They had both failed to give Emily the respect she deserved. He, too, had treated Emily as if she were too young to understand.
“I am his wife,” Emily said. “You must respect that.”
“It’s not necessary for you to remain in a loveless marriage. It’s not. Not with me and Lucy and Anne to watch out for you. We care about you. We only want the best for you. You needn’t stay in a marriage that makes you unhappy.”
“But Mary.” She let go of his hand to take her sister’s and press it against her chest. “Mary. I am happy. I am happy that I am not married to that dunce, Mr. Davener. I am happy I am no longer obliged to live with Papa and his threats—you understand what I mean. I know you do.”
Lady Aldreth’s voice thickened. “I ought to have insisted you come to Rosefeld once Lucy was married. I never should have allowed you to stay there with him.”
“I would have refused to come. I am happy now, and Bracebridge is the reason. Both of us know full well the state of our respective hearts. It is not for you to judge or to decide that either of us should have different sentiments than we do. You may have whatever opinion you like, but it is, after all, only your opinion.”
“Emily, you do not—”
“Mary!” Emily drew herself up. “Bracebridge and I understand one another. If you persist, we shall quarrel. Do not interfere in our lives. Give advice, yes, if I ask it of you. But if my husband wishes to end this marriage, that is his choice. Not yours. Not mine. Not Papa’s. Not Aldreth’s or anyone else. Should he come to such a decision, I assure you, I will seek assistance. Respectfully, I ask that you withhold your advice until I feel myself in need of your wise counsel.”
Lady Aldreth, a formidable foe to have made, looked between the two of them. “I want the best for you, Emily, and this marriage is not best for you or him. I want you to be happy, and how can that be? I ask you, with all that we know about him, how can that be?”
“I know you want the best for me, and I thank you for that,” Emily replied gently. Her fingers tightened around his once again. “What is best for me is that my sisters allow me to live the life that is before me. The one I freely chose.”
Lady Aldreth threw her arms around her sister. He heard her whisper fiercely, “Emily, Emily, our mother would not want this for you. She wouldn’t.”
His wife hugged her sister and stepped back. She was still holding his hand. “If anyone knows my faults, it’s him.” Her smile was stupefyingly brilliant. “I say with confidence that I cannot disappoint him, and that there is no one else about whom I may say such a thing.”
“Harry Glynn loves you, Emily. He loves you, and if you were free, he would marry you.”
“Enough, Mary. I’ve had quite enough. We shall have an irreparable break if you persist.” Emily turned to him. “My lord. If you do not mind, I would like for us to go home.”