by Laura Beers
“How were you able to accomplish that?”
“It was no small feat, and I was forced to involve the undersecretary of the Alien Office,” Corbyn explained. “The Runners were adamant that you were to remain in jail.”
“Why?”
“Because they are blasted Runners, and they truly believe that they are God’s gifts to fighting crime,” Corbyn scoffed.
“Did you speak to Guy Stewart?”
Corbyn nodded. “He claims that you and your friends were willing participants of a violent protest.”
“He said that?” Oliver asked in disbelief.
“That he did.”
“He is lying.”
Corbyn frowned. “Clearly, but the magistrate will take the Bow Street Runner’s word over a radical schoolboy any day.”
“How does the case look for my friends then?”
“I hope that they know a good barrister.”
Oliver rubbed his stiff neck, then said, “Guy Stewart laid in wait to set a trap for unsuspecting members of Society, and he is going to get away with it.”
“Runners do this all the time,” Corbyn replied. “It is how they earn their blood money.”
“It is wrong of them.”
Corbyn huffed. “That it is, especially since it makes our job of finding legitimate radical groups that much harder.”
“Stewart is a bloody nuisance.”
“I agree, but you must forget about him,” Corbyn said. “The truth of it all is that Runners are the bane of our existence.”
Oliver turned his attention towards the window and relished in the fresh air. “What would you have me do now?”
“Are you terribly unhappy in your assignment?” Corbyn asked.
“It does get rather irksome going to gambling hells and social events to spy on everyone,” Oliver admitted.
With an expectant look on his face, Corbyn inquired, “Would you care to be reassigned?”
Oliver grew silent as he pondered the question, and the image of Emmeline came to his mind. “That might be for the best, now that I am married.”
“That is what I assumed.”
“Are you terribly disappointed?”
“I am not,” Corbyn replied. “I have a never-ending pile of assignments and not enough agents to fill them.”
“That is most unfortunate.”
“The war with Napoleon has taken its toll on the people, and it has caused uprisings to spout up all over England,” Corbyn said. “A credible source has also informed me that trade unions are beginning to form for the collieries.”
“That is no surprise since the coal miners are treated so insufferably.”
“It is still illegal to form a trade union,” Corbyn remarked. “Furthermore, I have just received word about a potential assignment in the peninsula. Wellington has sent a request through the Alien Office for an agent to report to him.”
“That sounds promising.”
“It is, but I do not know the length of the assignment. It could be months, or even years.”
“That wouldn’t be an issue for me.”
“I shall have to think on it since you are in the perfect position to spy on the members of Society,” Corbyn said. “I do not fault you for wanting to be reassigned but sometimes we must put our duty to our Country ahead of our own wants.”
“I understand.”
Corbyn gave him a brief smile. “But you do have a lovely wife that you now need to entertain.”
“I have no doubt that she is angry with me since I didn’t return home last night as I promised.”
“You know better than to make promises you might not be able to keep.”
Oliver sighed. “I just assumed I was attending a radical meeting and I would be home in time to sleep in my bed.”
“That was foolish on your part.”
“Do you ever get tired of keeping secrets?”
With a lifted brow, Corbyn remarked, “I do not.”
“My sister hates me, and I have no doubt my wife will follow suit soon,” Oliver confessed. “The only reason why Madalene approves of me is that she learned the truth of us before she married Baldwin.”
“This is what you signed up for.”
“I know, but I must admit that I am growing tired of it all.”
Corbyn eyed him closely as he asked, “Do you want to stop working as an agent?”
“No,” he rushed out.
Adjusting his white cravat, Corbyn suggested, “Why don’t you take some time off and decide what it is that you truly want out of life?”
“I don’t need time off—”
Corbyn put his hand up, stilling his words. “You have been working nonstop since we recruited you out of Oxford. It is time for you to take a break, even if it is only for a week or so.”
Before he could respond, Corbyn hit the top of the coach and it began to slow down. “This is my stop,” he said as he put his hand out the window to open the door, “but my coach will see you to Hawthorne House.”
Oliver watched as Corbyn exited the coach and disappeared into the crowd of people on the pavement.
The coach continued down the narrow streets, and Oliver leaned his head back. Perhaps it would be good for him to take a break and spend time with his lovely wife. He just needed to make one stop before going home.
Chapter Eleven
Emmeline’s fingers danced over the ivory keys of the pianoforte as her mind continually turned towards her inheritance. She wanted to go visit Lockhart Manor, but would Oliver insist on accompanying her? She hoped not, but the property did belong to him since they were married. Frankly, she had little say in the matter if he wanted to travel with her.
As she played her last note, Harriet’s voice broke through her musings. “Did you hear me, dear?”
Emmeline lifted her hands off the keys and shifted on her bench to face her mother-in-law, who was sitting on a settee. “I did not,” she replied. “I’m afraid I was woolgathering.”
“I assumed as much,” Harriet replied with a kind smile. “I was just saying that you play superbly.”
“Thank you,” she murmured. “My mother ensured that I was proficient at the pianoforte and the harp.”
“Both are fine instruments.”
Emmeline nodded. “That they are.”
Sitting next to her mother, Jane eyed her curiously as she lowered her book to her lap. “You have been out of sorts since you met with your father’s solicitor,” she commented. “May I ask what you discussed?”
Rising, Emmeline walked over and sat across from them on a camelback settee. She took a deep breath before revealing, “I am entitled to a dowry of fifteen thousand pounds, and I inherited a small estate in Whitstable.”
Jane stared back at her in disbelief. “I thought you had no dowry.”
“I thought so as well, but it appears that my uncle deceived me,” Emmeline said. “Most likely, he intended to keep my dowry and estate for himself.”
“How distasteful,” Harriet murmured. “I had always assumed Lord Taylor was an honorable man.”
“As did I,” Emmeline responded. “Prior to this morning, I had no reason to ever question my uncle’s intentions.”
“Well, I am glad that you got it sorted out,” Jane remarked.
Emmeline bit her lower lip, then said, “My father’s will stipulated that my dowry would come to me as an inheritance on my twenty-first birthday.”
Jane frowned as realization dawned on her face. “Does this mean you didn’t need to marry Oliver in the first place?”
“It would appear that way,” she replied.
A silence fell over the room as Emmeline lowered her gaze to her lap. She didn’t want to see the looks of pity that she had no doubt were aimed at her.
Harriet spoke up in a tender voice. “I, for one, am pleased that you married my son. I have enjoyed having you as my daughter-in-law.”
Bringing her gaze up, Emmeline gave her a weak smile. “I have enjoyed being a part of thi
s family, but I just wish things were different with Oliver.”
“You mean you want your husband not to be such a despicable boor?” Jane asked in a haughty voice.
“You could say that,” Emmeline replied.
Jane huffed. “You have been a saint when it comes to dealing with my brother,” she declared. “You need to let him know how dissatisfied you are.”
“It is not my place.”
“It is most definitely your place,” Jane countered with a lifted brow. “You are his wife. If you can’t put him in his place, who can?”
Harriet bobbed her head. “I agree with Jane, and I rarely do.”
Jane smiled. “It’s true.”
Emmeline pressed her lips together as she realized that they were right. It was time for her to tell her husband what she was truly feeling. Although, she would leave out the part of how she held him in high regard.
“I will speak to him when I see him next,” Emmeline said.
Jane glanced at her mother before asking, “Do you want to borrow my muff pistol when you speak to him?”
“Why would I need a pistol to speak to my husband?”
Jane gave her an innocent look. “It might loosen his tongue, and no one would blame you if you accidentally shot him.”
Emmeline grinned. “I have no desire to shoot Oliver.”
“Pity.”
“You are terrible,” Emmeline joked.
“I prefer to think I am attempting to solve your problems,” Jane replied with a half-shrug.
Harriet shook her head at her daughter’s antics. “Perhaps you should put your energy into finding a suitor.”
“For what purpose?” Jane questioned. “I have no desire to marry.”
“Every woman wishes to marry,” Harriet pressed. “A marriage brings security.”
“Or it brings a host of new problems,” Jane countered.
Harriet reached for the teacup on the table in front of her. “I would prefer to see you settled with children before I die.”
“That won’t likely happen, Mother.”
After she took a sip, Harriet lowered the teacup to her lap. “Don’t you want children?”
“What would I do with children?” Jane asked. “I know nothing about rearing children.”
“Neither did I when I first started with Baldwin, but I must admit that it comes quite naturally,” Harriet replied.
Jane brought a finger up to her lips and tapped it. “If I did marry, I would want to marry a recluse. Someone who was content living in the countryside and never wanted to attend social events in London.”
“Why is that?” Harriet asked.
“Because I dread going to all the soirées, house parties, and balls,” Jane admitted. “It is rather exhausting.”
“You are the daughter of a marquess,” Harriet pointed out. “It is expected of you to attend until you secure a match.”
“What a dreadful thought,” Jane muttered.
“Speaking of which, we are to attend Lady Shipston’s ball this evening,” Harriet shared, shifting her gaze to Emmeline. “Please say that you will attend with us.”
Emmeline grimaced. “I am not sure how I will be received.”
“You need not worry about that,” Harriet assured her. “Madalene and I are working on a plan to ensure you are embraced by the ton.”
The sound of the main door being closed drifted into the drawing room.
Jane glanced over at the open door, her lips curling into a frown. “It would appear that my brother has finally decided to return home.”
The next moment, Oliver appeared in the doorway, looking terribly disheveled with tousled hair and wrinkled clothing. His tired eyes roamed the room until they met Emmeline’s.
“Good heavens,” Harriet declared. “Whatever happened to you?”
“It matters not,” Oliver replied, his eyes not straying from Emmeline’s. “May I speak to you privately, Emme?”
“Of course,” she said, rising.
She walked the short distance to him, and a terrible smell wafted off his person. Bringing her hand up to her nose, she said, “You smell awful.”
“I am well aware of that, but I was hoping to speak to you before I took a long soak.”
He offered his arm, and Emmeline timidly placed her hand on his sleeve. He led her towards the rear of the townhouse, and it wasn’t long before they were strolling along one of the footpaths in the garden.
She removed her hand from his arm and asked, “How are you faring?”
“Not well.”
“No?”
He reached out to gently grab her arm and turned her to face him. “I feel awful for not coming home last night, but I assure you that it couldn’t be avoided.”
Tired of his lies, she kept her back rigid as she asked, “And why was that?”
“I spent the night in jail.”
“You did?” she asked, rearing back. “Whatever for?”
Oliver let out a sigh as he dropped his hand. “My friend convinced me to attend a meeting with him, and it turns out it was a meeting for rebels.”
“It was?”
“And I was arrested by the Bow Street Runner that orchestrated the whole thing.”
Emmeline placed a hand on his sleeve. “I am sorry to hear that.”
“The charges were dropped, but I was forced to remain in jail until the situation could be rectified,” Oliver revealed.
“I am relieved that you were released.”
Glancing down at her hand on his sleeve, Oliver said, “That is why I missed accompanying you to meet with your father’s solicitor.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” Oliver asked.
“I do.”
Oliver’s lips twitched, drawing her attention to his lips. “I don’t know what I did to deserve such an understanding wife.”
Emmeline knew she should be vocal about her discontent, but she couldn’t seem to formulate the words. Not when he was looking at her in such a fashion.
“Did you sort out your dowry situation?”
Emmeline nodded. “Yes, I received a dowry of fifteen thousand pounds, and Mr. Clarke will be contacting you soon to transfer the funds to your account.”
Oliver’s brow lifted in surprise. “That is an impressive dowry.”
“I thought so, as well.”
“Did you discover why your uncle lied about your dowry?”
“I did not, but I believe he intended to keep the money for himself.”
Oliver nodded. “If you had married the duke, you would have never discovered your uncle’s deceit.”
“Most likely not,” she admitted.
“It is a good thing you married me, then,” Oliver remarked.
Before she could inform him about the property that she’d inherited, Oliver reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an exquisite coral necklace.
He held it up for her inspection, then said, “I know I haven’t been the best husband to you, but I hope to remedy that situation right now by giving you a birthday gift.”
“You remembered,” she breathed.
“Of course I remembered your birthday,” he said, taking a step closer to her. “I stopped by the jewelry shop on the way home from jail.”
“I’d just assumed you’d forgotten.”
Oliver’s eyes roamed her face as he asked, “Does the necklace please you?”
“It does, immensely.”
“May I?” he asked as he gestured for her to turn around.
After he secured the jewelry on her neck, Emmeline brought her hand up and ran it along the delicate coral. “It is lovely,” she murmured.
“Not as lovely as you are,” Oliver said, his eyes growing intense.
Emmeline smiled. “Thank you for remembering my birthday. It means more than you will ever know.”
“That is the job of a dutiful husband.”
Bringing her hand up to her scrunched nose, she remarked, “And it is the job of a good wife to
inform her husband that he stinks.”
Oliver chuckled. “I am thinking I may just burn these clothes.”
“That may be for the best.”
“Then it is time I adjourn for a bath,” Oliver said, extending his arm towards her.
Oliver took a moment to adjust his cravat as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He had always preferred dressing himself, but when his father had died, he had taken Jarvis on as his valet. He couldn’t stand the thought of dismissing a man who had been so loyal to his father.
“Will there be anything else, milord?” Jarvis asked.
Lowering his hands to his sides, he replied, “No, thank you.”
Jarvis tipped his head in acknowledgement. “I hope you have a good evening.”
Oliver turned towards the table next to his bed and pulled out the drawer to reveal one of his overcoat pistols. He did not believe an overcoat pistol would be required tonight at Lady Shipston’s ball. If he did require the use of a gun, he had his muff pistol tucked into his right boot.
Closing the drawer, Oliver walked across his room and opened the door to the sitting room. He had just stepped into the room when Emmeline opened the door to her bedchamber.
When Emmeline saw him, her eyes seemed to light up. Or had he just imagined that? He wasn’t sure.
“Good evening, Oliver,” she greeted.
“Good evening, Wife.”
She smiled as he hoped she would. “You seem to be in a tolerable mood this evening.”
“Only tolerable?” he teased, taking a step closer to her.
“We shall see if your mood is dampened once we arrive at the ball.”
“I hate balls,” he grumbled.
Emmeline laughed. “I know,” she replied with amusement in her eyes. “You have made that abundantly clear to anyone who will listen.”
Taking only a moment, he perused her puce gown, which had a round neckline and seemed to hug her curves perfectly. He cleared his throat at his wayward thoughts. These were things he should definitely not be noticing about Emmeline.
With a smile, Emmeline said, “This will be the first event that we will attend as a married couple.”
“I have no doubt that you shall charm the ton with your wit and beauty.” Oliver took another step and stopped in front of Emmeline.
