Tempted by the Roguish Lord

by Mary Brendan

  ‘Is that why you were quarrelling earlier?’

  Robin nodded, then his face drooped towards his breastbone. ‘I wish I’d died out in France... I’ve come back to nothing and can’t bear living any longer as a pauper.’

  ‘Don’t ever say that!’ Emma spontaneously threw her arms about him, hugging him fiercely. He smelled of coal and sweat, but nevertheless she held him as though she’d never let him go and dried her tears on the coarse cloth covering his shoulder. Eventually she pushed him away to arm’s length. ‘I understand why neither of you want to carry on like this. Especially Augusta, in her delicate condition. You should send her home to her mother, Robin, for her own good.’

  He wiped the back of his hand over his teary eyes. ‘I’ve tried to make her go for she is holding me back finding better work. I can barely support myself, let alone a wife. But she won’t leave me. You heard her. She says she is strong and she likes it better with me than with her mother. She just wants somewhere nicer for us to live.’

  ‘I don’t blame her for that.’ Emma’s voice cracked with emotion. She embraced her brother again, kissing his cheek in farewell. ‘Do you really love her, Robin?’

  He nodded. ‘But for how long will it last when all we do is argue? Being poor isn’t romantic, Em. It’s hell.’

  ‘I know and I’m truly sorry,’ she said huskily. There was nothing else to be said...she had nothing more to give. So before he could try to wheedle and pluck at her heartstrings Emma turned and hurried away into the wet evening.

  At the end of the street she stumbled into an alley. Blinded by tears and rain, she rested against a wall to compose herself for the journey home. She folded over at the middle, arms crossed at her abdomen, allowing sobs to rack her for there was no more holding them back.

  When she had quietened she smeared wet from her face and took stock. Getting work as a governess or lady’s companion would never solve their problems. Her wages wouldn’t come quickly, nor would they be enough. But there was a way and whether she owed it to her family to abase herself no longer mattered. She could see that now. On the day Robin had ambushed her by the heath and frightened the life out of her because she’d thought a ghost accosted her, he had told her he’d sacrificed his future for hers. Unnecessarily...recklessly...he had tried to avenge a wrong done her. A wrong that she, in her stupidly trusting way, had invited. Now she must make amends.

  Her conscience and her love wouldn’t allow her to watch her father’s decline and her brother’s misery...not when in her heart she knew she was the fount of all their ills. So she must swallow her pride and her hopes for her future. She must be a bit more like Augusta, she realised. The girl might be many years younger, but she was strong and courageous and took pride in her lowly roots and her grandma’s coarse wisdom. Emma realised she’d immediately warmed to Augusta...more than she had allowed herself to warm to the girl’s stepbrother. But change her attitude to him she must if she were to be his mistress. And the worst of it was that she knew she could do it quite easily. It would be when he expected her to turn off her feelings and forget about him, as he’d forget about her, that she would struggle.

  * * *

  Veronica Gresham could tell her husband was enraged about something. Five minutes ago their manservant had appeared with a letter for him. He’d torn it open, then had grown redder and redder in the face while growling out a curse. Even before receiving it he had been in an odd mood, snapping at her for no reason.

  Now he was pacing to and fro with the paper shaking between both sets of his fingers as though he might rip it asunder. Securing her needle in her embroidery, she pushed the tambour away to stand up.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, be still! What ails you, Joshua?’

  He ignored her and went to the window as though seeking a solution to his problems outside.

  ‘Have you had a business setback, my dear?’ She was hoping he had not. She had ordered a new gown without his permission and hadn’t yet owned up to it.

  He shrugged her off his shoulder as she attempted to comfort him and stormed out of the parlour. A moment later she heard the door of his den slam shut.

  Now the atmosphere was peaceful Veronica returned to her seat and started weaving her needle into the tapestry once more. While sewing she brooded on the woman who had enthralled and divided Simon and Joshua. Emma Waverley would end up a lonely old maid, as she deserved to.

  In his study Joshua sat at his desk with his head supported in his palms. His plot was in tatters. He pulled open his desk drawer and reluctantly withdrew a parchment secured with red ribbon.

  The deeds to Waverley’s house were no longer his—he’d lost them in that confounded game of Basset. The letter he’d received had been from the victor’s solicitor demanding the document be taken to his office in Cheapside without delay. Joshua still couldn’t fathom why the Earl would demand payment this way rather than in hard cash. The spectators who’d gawped at the play until the bitter end had been equally puzzled. None had commiserated with him; he’d received congratulations. Those gentlemen had believed the inebriated Earl had been uncharacteristically lenient, taking on Waverley’s debts in payment rather than emptying the loser’s bank account. But Joshua wondered if there was more to it...something that concerned the Earl’s recent visits to Primrose Square. Houndsmere hadn’t looked like a man mellow with drink when he’d got up from the card table and walked away in a straight line. But they’d all seen him sink a bottle of brandy. Too late, some late arrivals, cognisant with the Earl’s ways, had chortled that they’d never game with him drunk or sober because he played like a professional card sharp. If he had cheated, Joshua hadn’t spotted it and neither had anybody else. Now it was too late in any case. The deed was done.

  Joshua had hoped to sell some stock to pacify the Earl. But the letter stated he must immediately comply with specific terms. He snatched up the deeds, tempted to hurl them to the floor. He couldn’t risk a lawsuit with one of the wealthiest aristocrats in the land. Especially as a score or more gentlemen were witness to what had gone on at Boodle’s that afternoon.

  He still had Emma’s locket to tempt her with. It would be some time before news filtered through to her or her father—whom he’d heard was ill in bed—that the deeds had changed hands. Emma might succumb before discovering that his threat to make them homeless carried no weight.

  Joshua decided not to take a carriage to Cheapside; he needed the air and some exercise to work off his fury. As he marched, he cursed his brother to damnation. But for Simon he would never have become obsessed with Emma Waverley. He’d never liked his younger brother: too handsome, too popular. As children they’d fought over toys and would far sooner play with friends than with each other. Even the woman Joshua had eventually agreed to marry had come under his little brother’s spell. Veronica was wont to bring up from time to time that she’d preferred her first husband. After the duel Simon was finished. But Joshua was still waiting to even up one final score with his brother: deflower the woman Simon had loved and risked everything for, but had never managed to bed.

  In truth, Joshua had little real affection for Emma. But he’d enjoy breaking her in. Apart from that it was the battle of wills he craved and the taming. He’d already had a taste of her squirming against him...hitting and kicking to be free. The memory made his breeches feel uncomfortably tight and his panting breath momentarily deafened him to a greeting from a passer-by.

  Joshua spun about to see Roland Sanders, swinging his cane, proceeding along the street without a backward glance. He hurried up behind him, inquisitive to know how Mrs Booth had managed to cosy up to Mrs Sweet. ‘Sorry, my dear fellow...was lost in thought.’ Joshua clapped Sanders on the back.

  Roland had only greeted him from courtesy. He didn’t like the man and couldn’t bring to mind anybody who did.

  ‘How have you been? Not seen you about for a while, Sanders.’

&nbs
p; ‘Arthritis playing me up.’ Roland flexed his knobbly-knuckled fingers. ‘Mrs Booth has been making me rest at home. She’s very good to me like that.’

  Joshua was glad that Sanders hadn’t been in the gentlemen’s clubs recently. He wouldn’t have heard about the deeds changing hands. ‘And how is Waverley doing?’ Joshua asked, all sympathy. ‘Heard he’s ailing, the poor old soul.’

  ‘On my way to see him. Bernard has much on his mind, that’s his trouble. My good friend shouldn’t have entangled himself with money grubbers.’ Roland made a pointed reference to Joshua’s extortionate interest rates. He doffed his hat, ready to move on.

  ‘I’d say that damned Charlie the coalman’s the cause of his worries.’ Joshua threw that in as a last resort, hoping to pique Sanders’s interest and make him tarry awhile to talk about Mrs Sweet. It had the desired effect. Roland immediately strode back to him.

  ‘Charlie? Coalman?’ he whispered, his eyes darting to and fro. ‘What do you know about that?’

  Instinctively Joshua knew he’d hit upon something. ‘Why, everything...he told me everything about it.’ He licked his lips, sensing something of note was about to be revealed. ‘I’m his main creditor and he can’t keep anything from me. Waverley told me about Augusta, too.’ He recalled seeing both the names on the list Bernard had been writing. The effect this all had on Sanders was peculiar and amazing. The older man stumbled back and leaned heavily on his cane to keep himself upright. Immediately, Joshua inwardly cursed that he’d not taken more notice of Waverley’s scribblings.

  Roland steadied himself on his feet, wondering if Bernard’s infection had left him brain sick. ‘Well...shocked, I have to say,’ he mumbled. ‘Waverley told me it was all to be kept under my hat and nobody else must know any of it.’

  ‘He told me the same thing.’ Joshua played his part, adopting an alarmed expression. ‘Let’s have your opinion on how he should go on, Sanders, then I’ll tell you what I think on it. Between us we might be able to come up with a solution to help him.’ Joshua determinedly steered Roland towards the wall so they could talk without being overheard.

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Please do come for a drive with us, Em,’ Dawn urged. ‘I know you’re fretting about your papa’s health, but we won’t be out too long. You look as though you need a little relaxation. You’re quite wan, you know.’ Dawn gave her friend a hug.

  ‘Of course I will come and I’ll attempt to keep Mrs Booth occupied so you can get to know Mr Valance a bit better.’

  ‘We had a lot to say to one another despite her constant interruptions.’ Dawn rolled her eyes. ‘My father must be in his dotage to consider getting leg-shackled to her.’

  Emma smiled. She’d heard her papa muttering that his friend was a shrewd individual, more enamoured of the widow’s bank balance than he was of her. He’d sounded envious, his daughter had thought. Her mother had been gone a long while and Emma was surprised that her father hadn’t remarried for companionship, if not love. But Bernard Waverley and Roland Sanders were good friends and very alike: widowers with spinster daughters still at home and a propensity to spend money they didn’t have.

  ‘I think I rather like Jack Valance, Em, even though I hardly know him.’ Dawn sighed, breaking into Emma’s reflectiveness. ‘But I’m not quite sure what he feels about me. At times he gives me a very intense look, then at other times he seems quite casual. But he’s always polite,’ she hastened on. ‘I just can’t be sure what he’s thinking.’

  ‘At this moment he is probably thinking he’s very lucky that you have agreed to go out with him again,’ Emma said loyally.

  ‘I am looking forward to it so I’d best be off,’ Dawn said. ‘I want to sort out something nice to wear.’

  Emma accompanied her best friend into the hallway.

  ‘We’ll call for you at half past four, then,’ Dawn said as she skipped down the front steps.

  ‘I shall be ready and waiting.’ Emma waved before closing the door and then her eyes, leaning her forehead against the panels. She hoped Dawn wouldn’t lose her heart too quickly to Jack Valance. It remained to be seen whether he was sincerely smitten or was simply the Earl of Houndsmere’s ally. Emma couldn’t air her suspicions. Dawn would be mortified and she would do anything rather than hurt her. Besides, at the moment she had nothing to go on other than a suspicion that had sprung from her misgivings about Lance Harley’s character. Now she knew about his relationship with Augusta’s mother it seemed she’d been right to be dubious about him from the start. When he’d taken her for a drive and they’d talked about their mothers, she’d thought they were growing closer...perhaps close enough for confidences and family problems to be shared and a solution found. But she shouldn’t trust him.

  But Jack might be a different sort of man. Why would he not genuinely like Dawn? She was a lovely person and Emma was sad to think that at some time she might lose touch with her best friend.

  Emma had grown used to being shunned, yet Dawn’s friendship had been unwavering. In future things might be different. Without a husband’s name to shield behind, a gentleman’s mistress inhabited a twilight world and did not mingle even on the fringe of polite society. Emma would sooner steer clear of Dawn than have her sweet, loyal friend blighted by an association to her. But it hadn’t come to that yet.

  Last night Emma had tossed and turned the night through, trying to arrive at a decision on what to do. Just before dawn, when every bleak thought about her papa and Robin had seemed at its darkest, she had risen to light the candle stub. She had found pen and paper and dashed off a letter to Houndsmere. Her acceptance of his terms had comprised just two stark lines and she’d been on the point of sealing it when instead she’d suddenly crumpled the note in a fist, then hurled it into the fireplace. She couldn’t yet take that final step when she knew she was still susceptible to falling in love with him. She didn’t know him well enough to trust her future and her body to him. She needed to learn more about his ways...good and bad...and perhaps bad might be better. Knowing he was thoroughly reprehensible would help her harden herself against him. He’d promised to love her sweetly with unselfishness and consideration...but how did she know...?

  ‘Will you be going out with friends later then, miss?’

  Cathleen had emerged from the kitchen, interrupting Emma’s inner turmoil.

  Having received her mistress’s answering nod, the maid offered, ‘I can sit with your papa and let him read the paper to me like he did before.’

  ‘It’s good of you, but he seems a little better today. You can get straight home at your usual time.’

  ‘Oh, go on wid yer...’ Cathleen flapped a hand. ‘I know he likes a bit of company while he’s stuck in bed, twiddling his thumbs. He played a hand of Rummy with me as well and I enjoyed it, so I did.’

  Emma smiled. ‘Well, if you’re certain it’s no trouble, thank you. I shan’t be gone long anyway. I’ll pop up and see my father now and let him know I’ll be out, but that you’re keen for a game of Rummy.’

  The woman smacked her hip, clucking her tongue. ‘I forget to say...your friend’s pa came by when you were at the apothecary yesterday.’ Cathleen paused. ‘I know Mr Waverley likes that feller, but I sent him away as your pa was fast asleep.’

  ‘Mr Sanders won’t mind calling another time.’

  ‘Later on that Mr Gresham paid a visit as well. It was a pleasure, so it was, shutting the door in his face.’ Cathleen pursed her lips on a smirk. ‘I wasn’t going to tell you about that. I know you’ve no liking for him.’

  ‘Indeed not,’ Emma said with some conviction.

  A rap at the door cut off Cathleen’s next comment. ‘If it’s the nasty fat feller come by again he’ll get the same answer as yesterday from me.’ Cathleen marched to open up, saying over a shoulder, ‘Mr Waverley shouldn’t see any visitors yet a while.’

  A moment later Emma was relie
ved to hear the voice of the postman rather than Joshua Gresham’s hateful tones.

  She took the letter from Cathleen, her smile fading, having recognised the script.

  ‘Your father won’t want to be upsetting himself reading that!’ Cathleen also knew Mr Gresham’s hand from previous correspondence.

  ‘Indeed he won’t be reading it,’ Emma said decisively. ‘Not until he’s fully recovered.’ She opened the drawer in the console table and dropped it in. Her father was making good progress, but any worry was likely to set him back and she would never allow that to happen.

  * * *

  ‘It’s a very fine day for a drive,’ Emma said brightly to break the quiet. Jack Valance’s smiling eyes were on Dawn, making her cheeks turn rosy beneath his lingering regard. Mrs Booth was eagerly watching them both, as the stylish landau in which they were all seated proceeded at a sedate pace towards Hyde Park.

  ‘It is a fine afternoon,’ Jack agreed, squinting up at the clear blue sky. ‘I’d like to stretch my legs. Perhaps a walk towards the water would be nice when we stop?’ he suggested as the landau turned in through some open gates. He glanced at Dawn for her answer.

  ‘How nice that sounds.’ Mrs Booth had spoken over Dawn’s reply, making the young ladies exchange a subtly pained look.

  Politely, Jack helped them all down. Dawn was the last to quit the carriage and he kept hold of her hand, placing it on his arm. Immediately, Mrs Booth appropriated the use of his other elbow. The little party had not gone more than a few yards along the path winding though green parkland when Emma spotted somebody guaranteed to distract the older woman’s attention and allow Dawn and Jack to carry on alone.

  ‘We had a very nice time at Mrs Sweet’s house. I expect you heard all about it,’ Emma rattled off, then strolled to stand in the shade of a nearby tree. Her ruse worked. Julia relinquished Jack’s arm to join her and gawp at an elegantly dressed lady holding the hands of two handsome children. Ruth Sweet had seen them, and as the youngsters ran off to play chase she waved a greeting at Emma.