Chapter Four
Emma stared. What could he be thinking? Of course he didn’t want to follow through on their ridiculous betrothal.
“I don’t believe you,” she said.
His look was dubious. “I’m not asking you to accept an unknown on faith. I’m telling you, you are not released. What is there to disbelieve?”
“I do not believe you have any desire or intent to marry me any more than I do you. What I do believe is that you expected a desperate girl who would be disconsolate at your rejection. I believe you feel robbed of your authority as the one who grants and takes away.” She gripped the wooden arms of her chair and peered at him. “Is your ego really so bruised you would punish me by threatening to push forward with this ridiculous engagement? You would bat me around like a cat’s toy just to remind me of your superiority?”
Truly, how cruel could he possibly be? The arrogance. Never mind that he was a duke; he was a man. Like a child in the throes of a tantrum, he was too focused on imposing his will to be concerned with the actual outcome of preference.
The duke leaned back and crossed his arms. “I have no wish to punish you, Lady Emmaline. Only to marry you.”
She looked around the room, wishing some rational person might pop out from behind the curtains or under Fairhaven’s desk to serve as witness to this ridiculousness. Aunt Agatha said nothing and no other was forthcoming. She glared at him again. “You lie.”
He let his arms drop and met her gaze directly. “On the contrary, I could not be more genuine. I am in need of a wife and came to London for that purpose. As it happens, I am already engaged to a perfectly acceptable lady, saving me considerable time and effort in searching one out. The solution is really quite simple.”
She leaned forward in her chair and lanced him with her severest look. “Do you deny you arrived here today for the express purpose of selecting a bride from among the new debutantes?”
He leaned forward as well and met her look without guile. “No. I don’t deny it.”
She sat back in her chair. “Well, then. We are in agreement. I appreciate your…”
“I came here for that purpose,” he interjected, “but I find I have changed my mind.”
“Changed your mind?”
“Indeed.” He looked a bit nonplussed himself by the revelation.
“Ridiculous.” She spoke the word aloud, but to her aunt rather than to him. Clearly, explaining to him the ridiculousness of his position would be futile. “Could you please help me explain, Aunt Agatha, the absolute absurdity of this notion?”
Aunt Agatha bore the look of a trapped animal. She gave a delicate cough before responding. “Perhaps we should at least listen to his explanations, dear.” She turned her attention to the duke. “You do, I hope, have explanations, Your Grace?”
“Certainly.” He smiled at Aunt Agatha as though pegging her an ally then faced Emma again. “Don’t you want to know why I have changed my mind?” His impenetrable confidence set her fingers itching.
“Very well, Your Grace,” she ground out. “Pray tell me, why have you changed your mind?” She couldn’t imagine what sort of excuse he could possibly fabricate.
“The situation is this: I find I require a wife with specific…attributes. When I learned of our continued engagement, I was convinced from our prior encounter that you did not possess those attributes. Our conversation has proven otherwise.”
“I see.” She did not see at all. He was baiting her still, she was certain of it. “And what would those attributes be that I have demonstrated so well in our brief meeting? Could it be that you simply require a wife with all her limbs and teeth, Your Grace?” She crossed her arms. “Or perhaps you require a wife who is not deaf or mute? I suppose I have aptly demonstrated my ability in those areas.”
Absurdly, he smiled at her then, as though she had said the most charming thing imaginable. “You have just demonstrated it—perfectly so. I seek a wife with a spine—one who will not shrink from adversity. When most women would have acquiesced to rank, parental authority, and contractual obligation, you’ve proven instead you have backbone to spare. I not only admire that, Lady Emmaline, I’m counting on it.” He nodded as though she should feel congratulated by his words.
The arrogance.
Did he honestly believe she expected or would accept his compliments? This game had gone on long enough. She rose from her seat.
“I will not be treated in this manner, and your rank, Your Grace, does not excuse you. As you refuse to participate in a rational conversation, I will just have to rely upon your earlier representation that you did, in fact, intend to dissolve our contract. Please consider it dissolved. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am tired and would like to return home with my aunt and uncle.”
“Lady Emmaline…” He rose also and stepped closer.
Her instinct as he advanced was to step back, but she would not grant him that power. She stood her ground.
“Lady Emmaline, I find I must prove my intentions to be genuine. Since you require proof, I will call on you tomorrow with a ring of my grandmother’s. You may consider it a betrothal ring.”
Could he be serious? That he would tease her with the betrothal made her angry, but could he actually intend to go through with it? She could scarcely breathe at the thought. She gaped at him. “You’re truly serious, aren’t you? You actually intend to marry me.”
“Yes. I truly, actually intend to marry you. And when you consider all of the circumstances, I don’t think you will find the prospect so abhorrent.”
The last restraints on her anger fell away. “Are you daft? Do you honestly not understand why I wouldn’t want to marry you—the man who once found the prospect of marriage to me so abhorrent he chose possible death on the battlefield as a preferable fate?
“You arrive four years late,” she continued, “with no explanation or apologies and have the unmitigated gall to wonder why I am not brimming with gratitude for your consideration. Have you no conscience? You allowed everyone to believe you were dead. Your own father went to his grave believing he had no remaining heir, that his entire family had been lost to him.”
The duke stepped back and adopted a sober expression. “I am greatly sorry, Lady Emmaline, that you were harmed by my actions. I can assure you, the timing of my departure in relation to our engagement was purely coincidental. There were matters of pressing importance to be handled abroad and I left without notice or preparation. I can also assure you I was not personally involved in the dissemination of inaccuracies pertaining to my death.”
“Matters of pressing importance? This is the explanation I’m to receive? You expect me to believe it was a matter of pressing importance for you to flee to Spain to join the fight against Napoleon?”
“I have only been to Spain once, Lady Emmaline, and that visit was not made in the past four years.”
“You’re talking in riddles.”
He stepped forward and met her gaze with an earnest expression. “You’ve asked for an explanation. That’s a fair and reasonable request.” His gaze moved among both ladies as he continued. “As I’ve explained, I find myself in urgent need of a wife.”
Emma’s glare intensified.
“I understand your duty as duke, Your Grace,” Aunt Agatha asked. “But is there some other reason for this urgency?”
“I have a sister, Charlotte,”—his expression softened as he spoke her name—“who is of an age to make her debut in society. There will be… challenges…because her upbringing has been unorthodox. I seek a wife who will not shrink from those challenges. I was under the mistaken impression my current betrothed was too meek to serve the purpose.” He waved a hand toward her form as though presenting her for inspection. “My judgments have proven inaccurate. I would in fact wager, Lady Ridgley, that your niece possesses more backbone than any other lady of the ton.”
Aunt Agatha squinted at the man as though she could make his words come better into focus. “I thought you had but one sister,” she said.
“Correct.”
Emma spoke up then. “Pardon my directness, Your Grace, but I understood your sister to have died as a young child.”
The duke turned back to Emma and addressed her with no trace of humor. “I assure you she is alive and well and will arrive in England shortly.”
Somehow, his clarifications managed to provide no clarity whatsoever. “Goodness,” she said tartly, well aware of her tone. “How many resurrections can one family possibly produce? Perhaps I should not be so confident in the validity of your title, Your Grace, when your departed father could turn up at any moment.”
“Emma,” Aunt Agatha warned, but her tone lacked conviction.
The duke paused, as though measuring his words carefully before he continued. “Just as you were falsely informed of my death four years ago, reports of my mother and sister’s deaths several years before were also inaccurate.”
“But that information came directly from your father,” Aunt Agatha pointed out.
“It did, but it was false,” he said grimly, his expression tightening at the mention of his father. “My mother and sister were alive and residing in Boston for many years. I only learned the truth when I gained my majority and my mother wrote to me through a solicitor to request my aid.”
Emma sat again. The story was a bit fantastic. “That is why you left the country?”
“It is. Within days of meeting you, I received word that my mother had taken gravely ill. I felt I had no choice but to go. I learned from a friend the story he circulated about my death.” He recovered his teasing smile as he glanced at Emma. “I assure you, I have never been the patriotic sort.”
The lightness of his teasing after the shock of his story took Emma off guard because she caught herself almost responding with an easy laugh of her own. She coughed instead.
“I must say,” Aunt Agatha interjected. “That’s an astonishing story. I gather you plan to bring your mother and sister back to England, now that you’ve inherited?”
His voice was small when he answered. “My mother passed away last year. It is only Charlotte who will be returning to England. She is my sister and the daughter of a duke. She deserves to take her place here.”
Emma wasn’t quite sure what to make of all this. She supposed she would have to rethink at least some portion of her resentments toward the Duke of Worley. She could see how he might owe a greater loyalty to his mother and sister than to the fiancée he barely knew and never wanted in the first place. Still, he’d been incredibly hateful when they were introduced. He’d handled the situation poorly, by her estimation, and one could not forget her reputation had been irreparably damaged. Most importantly, she still didn’t want to marry him.
“I suppose I understand, Your Grace, why you felt you had to disregard our engagement at the time. I don’t see, however, what this has to do with me currently.”
He turned to her with a pleading expression. “Charlotte needs a champion, Lady Emmaline. Her background is unorthodox. Her true identity will be questioned and vicious rumors will be circulated. She needs more than me to take on the gossips. She needs you as well.”
Emma glanced at her aunt to gauge her reaction to this nonsense. What could he be thinking?
“That’s the most backward idea I’ve ever heard.” She adjusted herself in her seat. “If you require a fiancée with social clout, I assure you, I wield absolutely none. Thanks in no small part to you, if I may speak plainly.”
“You’ll be a duchess. You’ll have all the clout in the world, provided you’ve the strength to demand it.”
“I will not be a duchess.” She said it to the duke, but her eyes implored her aunt for just a bit more help. “It’s insupportable that you would want to marry me, Your Grace. I believe the total amount of time you’ve spent in my company is only now approaching an hour.”
“You make a strong impression.” He laughed when her brow lifted. “Oh, come now, Lady Emmaline. It’s not as though I’ve claimed to fall in love with you in the span of an hour.”
Aunt Agatha rose from her seat and looked about the room. “Emma, I expect your uncle must be wondering where we’ve gotten off to.”
“Certainly not,” Emma said to the duke, ignoring her aunt. “You should know, however, that I am not without genuine suitors.” She couldn’t meet his eyes as she made the claim.
She could feel his stare boring into her profile. “Is that really what you want?” he asked. “Living in relative poverty with an old man, caring for someone else’s children?”
Emma and her aunt both gasped at once.
“What do you know of it?” Emma demanded.
“You can’t possibly claim to be in love with this Greystoke character,” he said, practically spitting the name as he spoke it, “and I don’t accept it as a valid objection.”
She pivoted in her seat to face him, too offended to find his proximity intimidating. “Very well, then. What will you accept as a valid objection?”
“Please, both of you,” Aunt Agatha interrupted. “Let’s not be too hasty in deciding what’s best for everyone.”
Her aunt’s suspiciously neutral comment garnered Emma’s full attention.
“Perhaps we should continue this conversation after we’ve had some opportunity to think things through and Emma has had a chance to confer with her uncle,” Aunt Agatha proposed.
The duke nodded. “I believe your counsel to be wise, Lady Ridgley. It is clear to me that your niece doubts the sincerity of my intentions. As I promised earlier, I will call upon you tomorrow to present her with a betrothal ring that was once my grandmother’s.”
He stepped to where Emma sat and took hold of her hand. “I look forward to more demonstrations of your attributes tomorrow afternoon, Lady Emmaline.” With a nod to her aunt, he released her hand and was out the door before she could object.
Silence hovered between the ladies for a time. Emma spoke first.
“He is the most arrogant man. He just assumes I’ll be happy to marry him.” She plunked her hand into her lap, frustrated with herself that she hadn’t gathered her wits quickly enough to snatch it away from him. “You’ll notice he offered no apology for the way I’ve been treated throughout this situation.”
“Oh, Emma.” When Aunt Agatha faced her niece, her pale eyes were brimming with unshed tears.
“Aunt Agatha.” Emma rose and rushed to her aunt’s side. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m only annoyed at his arrogance. I know he’ll see reason eventually. Everything will be fine.”
“My dear,” Aunt Agatha said, brushing at the tears that leaked. “I didn’t plan to be a countess. I knew I was marrying a second son when I married your uncle and he wasn’t supposed to inherit. I never needed any of this.” She waved her hand as though indicating the Fairhaven’s study, but Emma knew her meaning to include her own home and the life of a peer in general. “When he did inherit the earldom, the most precious part of that estate was you. God never saw fit to give us children, but you’ve been like a daughter to me.”
Emma reached for one of her aunt’s hands and squeezed it. “You’ve been like a mother to me.”
Aunt Agatha reached up to brush a hand along Emma’s cheek. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Having you with us has been wonderful for me. I’ve been in no rush to send you off to someone else’s household.” Her hand fell and her gaze followed. She shook her head softly. “I think perhaps I’ve been selfish and shortsighted.”
“But you haven’t, I…”
“Hush now, Emma, and let me finish.” There was a quiet strength behind her aunt’s words, and more assertiveness than Emma was accustomed to seeing from her.
Emma nodded and did as she was told.
“Your uncle will not live forever. This cousin from Yorkshire, whom we’ve never even met, will inherit and what will that leave you? Nothing but that lonely cottage and an old maid’s existence? I should have worked harder to secure a good marriage for you. In that one respect, I fear I’ve failed to meet my obligation to your parents.”
Emma was overcome by the extent of her aunt’s affection—and troubled by the guilt she’d never meant to inspire. “Aunt Agatha, you mustn’t speak this way. You haven’t failed at all. I love my cottage and I’m so very grateful for all that you and my uncle have done for me—grateful that you stood by me, when I fear I’ve been an embarrassment to you.”
“Do not even think it. Of course you’ve never been an embarrassment. I only want what’s truly best for you—to see your future secured as your parents tried to do when they lived. Now the duke has returned.” Aunt Agatha’s grip on her hand grew tighter. “The very man your father chose for you. I can’t help feeling this is my second chance, Emma. I owe your parents to see this marriage through.”
Emma was at a loss. See the marriage through?
She sat. The movement wasn’t studied or graceful. She just plopped onto the settee as though one moment she had a pair of useful, sturdy legs and then she didn’t. Everyone, it seemed, wanted her to marry the Duke of Worley. How could she possibly fight them all?