Chapter Five
James stared at his plate, but he was entirely distracted. Since he’d last encountered Emma Liston a few days before, he had relived their conversation in the garden over and over. Not only had he revealed so much about himself, for he hardly ever discussed his band of tight friends with anyone, let alone a stranger…but he had found himself engaged by her.
She was not like anyone he’d ever met before. Where most ladies in his circle focused on how to best present themselves, Emma had a refreshing honesty that drew him in.
He shook his head, pushing thoughts of her away as he looked at his companions. He was sharing supper with Meg and Graham, but neither was talking. Meg pushed her food around her plate with the tines of her fork and Graham was silent.
James cleared his throat. “We are a thrilling group, aren’t we?”
Graham grinned at him and Meg straightened up. “We all have something on our minds, it seems,” she said, shooting a quick glance at Graham. He didn’t return it.
“I know what you two must be thinking of,” James said. “We do have a wedding to plan.”
To his surprise, Meg stiffened a little at the mention of her upcoming nuptials. He frowned. James wasn’t certain what was going on with his sister. She’d become increasingly odd as of late. Most women would have been giddy to plan a huge Society wedding to a rich, powerful duke who had been a friend for years. Meg seemed entirely disinterested.
He could only hope that once she and Graham were married, she would calm down a little. Her troubles would fade when she was settled.
“I was actually thinking more about the country party next week,” Meg said. “I realize it’s already a full house, but I was considering inviting Emma Liston and her mother to fill out the group.”
“Emma?” he repeated, all the thoughts he’d been trying to stifle returning.
She nodded. “We had a wonderful time a few days ago. I do like her, James. And I think we could be of help to her, as well.”
James’s errant mind took him back, once again to their conversation in the garden a few days before. Emma had so much tension on her face when she spoke of needing to wed, of the complications of that drive.
“James?” Meg asked, intruding into his thoughts.
“Very well,” he said with a shake of his head. “I see no reason why not. We have the room.”
She smiled and rose, forcing Graham and him to do the same. “Excellent. While you and Graham have your port, I’ll write her an invitation. And then I’ll likely retire early.” She partially turned toward her fiancé. “Good night, Graham.”
Graham stepped toward her, but did not take her hand. He merely executed a stiff bow. “Margaret.”
Meg drew in a little breath, then turned and slipped from the room, leaving the two men alone.
James slung an arm around Graham’s shoulder. “Port?”
If Graham had been dull when Meg was around, now he grinned and the man James had known nearly all his life returned. “I’d prefer scotch, truth be told.”
“Scotch it is.” James laughed as they made their way down the hall to the billiard room. Once inside, James moved to the sideboard to make the drinks.
“Since we’re not rejoining Margaret, would you like a game?” Graham asked.
James nodded without looking at him. “We haven’t played in an age.”
He heard Graham placing the balls into position and turned to hand over a drink while Graham traded him for a cue. They each took a drink and set them aside before James said, “You first, mate.”
Graham put himself into position and took his shot. As he did so, he said, “What’s on your mind?”
James arched a brow. “On my mind?”
Graham straightened. “You have that look. I know that look.”
James rolled his eyes. “You and Meg aren’t married yet. Can’t pull the concerned older brother act yet.”
“Why not? I’ve been doing it over ten years already.”
James half-grinned as he took his own shot, his ball striking both Graham’s cue and the red ball. “Canon,” he said softly.
“I saw it,” Graham responded with a slight annoyance to his tone. He had always been competitive. It was why Simon didn’t play with him anymore. “So what’s the problem?”
James leaned his cue against the edge of the table and sighed. “Has Meg spoken much to you about this Emma Liston we were discussing at supper?”
Graham froze, leaning over the table for his shot. “In truth, Meg and I don’t speak about much at all.”
For a moment, James’s focus on Emma faded and he stared at his friend. “Is there something wrong between you two?”
Graham took his shot, but he hit it too hard and it banked off the edge of the table and missed both his targets. He let out a low curse before he straightened up and glared at James.
“Of course not,” he snapped. “Everything is fine.”
“Fine,” James repeated slowly.
Graham nodded. “Of course, we’re planning a wedding, aren’t we? And we’ve been friends for years. It’s a good match, we both know it.”
James wrinkled his brow. Neither Meg nor Graham seemed very pleased about their position, which wasn’t what he’d ever intended when he suggested the engagement so very long ago.
“Graham—” he began.
“You asked about Miss Liston,” Graham interrupted, turning his back so that it was clear the other subject was closed. “Why so interested in her?”
James pressed his lips together. For now, he would let the topic of the engagement go, but he made note to talk to Meg about it, for she might be more open. “She helped Meg and me with a…situation with Mother at the Rockford ball last week.”
Graham turned and his eyes were now filled with concern. “A situation. Was she…”
James nodded. “Very. She’s been having a rough go of it as of late. A few days ago at Meg’s party and again tonight, which is why she didn’t join us.”
Graham shook his head slowly. There were few people who knew the full ramifications of Lady Abernathe’s issues with drink. Graham was one of them, Simon another…and now Emma Liston.
Funny how Emma didn’t seem out of place in that intimate list of his closest friends. Even though he hardly knew the girl at all.
“Emma Liston is a wallflower,” Graham said, his voice becoming sharper, more business-like. “Her grandfather is a viscount. He and my father were cronies, which does nothing to recommend the man, as you know. Her father is estranged. A bad egg, as they say.”
“I didn’t ask you about her to get a listing of her family’s every move,” James said softly.
Graham shrugged. “It’s what I do, remember things. I can’t help it, so you might as well use it. Emma Liston is compromised.”
“Compromised?” James repeated too loudly, rage bubbling up in him unexpectedly at the idea that some other man had touched Emma.
Graham stared at him. “Not physically compromised. I only mean she’s in a bad position. Her dowry is small, the important members of her family do not acknowledge her and her father does nothing to add to her reputation.”
James’s heart rate slowly returned to normal. “Well, none of that means much to me.”
“It should. The girl could benefit if she used anything she knows about your mother against you.”
James shook his head, a flare of defensive anger rushing through him, even though he’d had the exact same concern about her the night of the Rockford ball. “I don’t think so,” he said. “She’s made no secret of her position, nor has she made any attempt to leverage what she knows about my mother into a betterment of her position.”
“Except she’s now invited to your country party. A sought after invitation if ever there was one. People are always angling for me to get them one,” Graham said with an arched brow.
“No, I don’t think so,” James insisted. “She’s invited because Meg has fallen head over heels in friendship with her. And Emma hasn’t been dishonest about her position.”
“What do you mean?” Graham asked. “She told you about her wayward father?”
“No,” James admitted, and was surprised by how his interest was aroused by that new information. “But she made it clear her position is precarious. She even made a joke about my pretending to court her to elevate that position.”
“And you don’t think that was angling?”
“No,” James said through suddenly clenched teeth. “She was teasing, for God’s sake. I never thought she meant it.”
Graham stared at him, just stared, for what seemed like an eternity. “You want to do it,” he finally said.
James drew back. “Do what?”
“Court her!” Graham said, throwing up his free hand in exasperation.
“I have no interest in courting her,” James barked back. “I have no interest in courting anyone and you know it.”
Graham’s face softened and he said, “James—”
James held up a hand. “We’re not discussing it,” he snapped. “The point is that, yes, I have thought of Emma’s statement. I have. Not because I actually want to court her, but because what she suggested, even half-heartedly, could very well help us both.”
“I can see how it would help her—you’re the most eligible bachelor in all of London. If you’re seen paying her extra attention, men will circle. She’ll suddenly be in fashion, just like the way you tie your cravat.”
“I’m not sure it’s fair to compare Miss Liston to a knot in a cravat,” James muttered.
“To some there will be little difference,” Graham said softly. “But I’m more interested in what you think this silly notion could do for you.”
“You saw how it was at the Rockford ball,” James said. “It’s the first event of the Season and they were already mobbing me. It was exhausting. And it will only get worse, you know. I’ve heard there’s a large group of debutantes this year. Twice as large as last. They’ll all be coming for me.”
“And?”
“And if I am seen as interested in Miss Liston, they may pick another mark,” James explained.
“And when she parts with you to, in theory, entertain a dozen true offers of marriage?” Graham asked.
James smiled. “I think I might be too broken-hearted to even dance this year after she’s gone. Next might even be questionable.”
Graham let out a sigh. “I am troubled by your attitude, my friend. But I am well aware there is no putting you off on a plan once you have it.”
“Indeed, there is not,” James said.
Graham shrugged and a boyish impishness he rarely showed anymore flashed across his face. “And it could be lucrative business for me, as well.”
“How so?”
“Well, you’ve invited Simon and some of the others to this party, yes?”
James nodded. “Yes. Simon, Sheffield, Brighthollow and Roseford are attending. The others are busy and we haven’t seen Willowby in years.”
“Well, then we’ll all be there to hear about your progress with Miss Liston. And place bets,” Graham said with a chuckle as he returned his attention to their all-but-forgotten game.
“Place bets on what?” James asked as he lined up for his own shot.
“I don’t know. If you’ll fall in love with her and how quickly,” Graham suggested as James took his shot.
The statement made James’s hand slip and his ball actually hopped over the edge of the table and rolled across the floor. He scowled as he moved to catch it.
“If I decide to do this, no one is falling in love with anyone,” he said with a laugh. “I can assure you of that fact.”
Emma sat in the front parlor in the window seat, one leg tucked beneath her as the other dangled from the edge. She was watching the carriages drive by on the street. It was something she’d done since she was very young. She’d always wondered who was inside, where they were going, what they felt tucked into their little cocoons.
Today she wasn’t thinking of those things. Her mind kept taking her to Abernathe. To those moments in the garden when he had been so unexpectedly kind. And she had been so stupidly candid.
The man didn’t want to know her troubles. And he certainly didn’t want to hear her ask him to court her, even in jest. He must think her an utter fool.
She certainly thought herself a fool.
“There you are.” She looked toward the parlor door to find her mother hustling in, a missive in her hand. “You have a message!”
Emma turned and slowly rose. Her mother must have pounced on the poor messenger the moment he came up the drive, for she hadn’t heard the bell.
Of course, she hadn’t exactly been attending, either.
She turned it over and recognized the seal. It was the same one that had been on her invitation to Meg’s garden party a short few days before. It felt like a lifetime now.
Her hands shook as she broke it, and inside found a short letter from her new friend.
“Read it aloud!” her mother insisted, eyes bright with possibility and almost manic hope.
“Very well,” Emma said softly. “‘Dear Emma, I wanted to thank you again for your kind company after my party a few days ago. I truly treasure our talks. My brother and I are hosting a country gathering at our estate, Falcon’s Landing. We would love to have your mother and you join us for the fortnight we spend there. I hope to receive your yes soon. With friendship, Meg.’”
As Emma read the words, Mrs. Liston had begun to clap her hands together and she was almost bouncing with delight as Emma lowered the letter. For her part, Emma was less excited. A fortnight at Falcon’s Landing in the shire of Abernathe meant a fortnight with the duke, himself. A man who, she had already decided, thought her an idiot.
A man who made her nervous, and yet she found herself blabbering like a fool the moment he looked her way.
“Oh, Emma, you have made a good match in a friend,” Mrs. Liston said, grabbing her arm and almost physically yanking her from her thoughts. “Lady Margaret! She is so very connected. You must use those connections.”
“Mama,” Emma said, pulling herself away and pacing across the room back to look out the window. “That is a mercenary way to look at a friendship.”
“Well, we must be mercenary, mustn’t we?” Mrs. Liston said, her tone sharp enough that Emma turned to look at her. Her mother’s hands were clasped before her, shaking. “You want to pretend that there isn’t a rider pounding up behind us, bringing only destruction.”
“That is a bit dramatic,” Emma said softly. “We aren’t trying to escape imminent death.”
“No, it isn’t dramatic. We’re talking about the potential of societal death and you are old enough not to act like a child.” Mrs. Liston folded her arms. “Tell me, Emma, how many times has your father swept back into our lives, dragging scandal behind him? How many times has he limited your options and humiliated me with his philandering and gambling and dueling? How many times?”
Emma tapped her foot. “You throw your anger and fear about Father up in my face any time I do not do as you ask, but we both know what will happen if he were to walk in that door tomorrow. You would open your arms to him, all would be forgiven and for a few weeks or months you would refuse to hear any negative opinion about him, no matter what he does.”
Her mother’s face crumpled at Emma’s direct statement and her shoulders sagged. “You think me weak.”
Emma held her breath, for there was not a good way to lie and deny her mother’s charge. When it came to Harold Liston, Mrs. Liston was always torn between abject terror and blind devotion.
“It is complicated,” Emma admitted at last.
“Yes, it is that,” Mrs. Liston whispered, and her tears were real this time, not born entirely out of manipulation.
Emma sighed. She moved toward Mrs. Liston and caught her hands gently. “I do not dispute that you have reason to fear. Father does turn up at the most inopportune times and his behavior usually causes nothing but trouble.”
“And he may very well show up yet again, you know,” Mrs. Liston said with a sniffle. “It has been almost a year since we saw him last, and I wait to hear his footsteps almost every night now. Pounding up the stairs and dragging misfortune in his wake.”
Emma bent her head. “I suppose that is possible.”
“And this time I will not bend to his charms, I promise.”
Emma pressed her lips together, for she knew that wasn’t true.
“You know that if I am mercenary, it is because I am terrified that this time or the next time or the time after that he will bring something down on us that will destroy us permanently,” Mrs. Liston whispered. “And the only way to avoid that fate is if you are married or at least engaged. Then he can blow and bluster, but his hurricane will not destroy us as it could now.”
Emma reached into her pelisse pocket for a handkerchief. As she handed it over, she said, “I’m sorry I’ve failed you so far, Mama.”
Mrs. Liston shrugged but didn’t deny Emma’s failure. “You have an opportunity here, my dear. And we are going to take it. We’re going to that party.”
Emma knew that tone. It was the one that brooked no refusal. She wouldn’t convince her mother any differently no matter what she said.
“Very well, Mama,” she said softly. “Though I cannot guarantee that I will leave this party with any more success than I have left any other.”
Her mother’s upset a moment before now seemed gone, replaced by grim determination on Emma’s behalf. “You shall have ample opportunity to succeed. Surely there will be dozens of eligible men there for the pursuing, including the Duke of Abernathe, himself.”
Emma’s heart began to pound and she tried very hard not to think of dark eyes and the sadness within. Of big hands and broad shoulders. Of him.
She shook her head. “Abernathe is as interested in me as he is in a gnat, Mama,” she said, but her voice sounded breathless and wavered slightly.
Mrs. Liston didn’t seem to notice. “Then you should try harder. You are not a great beauty, no, but you are not unattractive. If you didn’t show your intelligence so much then perhaps you would have more luck.”
Emma bit her tongue hard. Her mother had been saying that for years. It might be true that her mind brought her no suitors, but Emma didn’t want a man who needed a stupid wife. She didn’t want to hide who she was.
It was just that no one seemed to want who she was.
“I cannot force a man’s attention,” she whispered.
“So you will not even try? For me?” Mrs. Liston said, and then she began to cry fully.
Emma clenched her hands at her sides. This was manipulation and she knew it, but she couldn’t help herself. She stepped forward and embraced her mother.
“Of course I’ll—I’ll try. We will go as you desire. And I will try.”
Her mother gave a triumphant gasp and hugged Emma before she rushed from the room, calling for her maid and shouting about gowns and hats, like the outburst before had never happened at all.
After she was gone, Emma sank down into the closest chair and covered her face with her hands. Trying was one thing, succeeding was another. And in this moment, there didn’t seem much chance of success at all.