A Summons From Yorkshire (Regency Christmas Summons Collection 1)

by Johnstone, Julie

  Good God, it had been nearly a decade since he’d escaped into Danby’s secret chamber. Hopefully, the place wasn’t covered in dust and cobwebs. That would hardly be the place to propose to his future wife.

  “Perhaps we should head for the one of the parlors instead,” he muttered, more to himself than to her.

  But Emma was at his side in an instant, a beeswax candle in hand. “After you’ve piqued my interest? Not on your life, Lord Heathfield. I want to see why no one could ever find you or Drew. The two of you could vanish for hours.”

  His adventurous Emma. Life would certainly never be dull with her by his side. “All right,” Heath agreed. “But if it’s covered in spiders, I did warn you.” Then he pushed against the stone wall beside the mantle, revealing a small entrance.

  Emma gasped. “There’s a hole back there?”

  Heath shrugged. “More than a hole—an entire room.”

  “Heavens,” she whispered. “I had no idea.”

  “Apparently the Whittons took protecting their priest seriously during the Reformation. At least that’s what your grandfather said when he first showed this to Drew and me.”

  “But we’re not even Catholic.”

  Heath couldn’t help but laugh. How he adored her. But then he’d always adored her, he’d just somehow forgotten that as life, school, and then the responsibilities of his title had settled on his shoulders. But looking back on his youthful summers spent at Danby Castle, Emma had always charmed him. She’d been so cheerful, so full of life, so radiant, even as a child. But she wasn’t a child any longer. And thank God for it.

  “I hardly find that amusing.” She frowned. “Why should Grandpapa show you and Drew this room but not Izzy or me?”

  “Why does Danby do anything?” Heath poked his head into the space only to be greeted by darkness. “Give me the candle, sunshine.”

  Emma complied instantly, and Heath slid into the passage with Emma’s hand grasped in his. He lifted the candle high so they could see the interior. Then he used that taper to light two large sconces on either side of the room, filling the chamber with a bright warm glow. Looking about the space, the room was exactly as he remembered, though cleaner than he expected.

  ~*~

  Emma stared in awe at the spacious chamber she’d never known existed. The room was lined with dark shelves containing books, and in the middle rested a four poster bed that appeared well-maintained. Heavens. This was the very last thing she expected Lord Heathfield to show her.

  “Tell me why you summoned me here, Emma.” He pulled her into his embrace, and her heart did a little flip when his light eyes held her gaze.

  Because she’d always loved him and was tired of waiting for him to return. “Because I wanted to see you again,” she said instead.

  A lazy smile spread across his lips. “I am so very glad you did.”

  If this was all a dream, she would die when she woke. “And you’re not really betrothed any longer?”

  Heathfield shook his head. “But I hope to be betrothed again very shortly.”

  “You do?” she breathed.

  “If you’ll have me, and if you’re through with make-believe Flemish fiancés and inept magistrates. I won’t share you with anyone.”

  Emma threw her arms around his neck and held tight. After learning about his fiancée, all hope she’d had for a future with him had been lost. She still couldn’t quite believe she was going to achieve her happy ever after. “Yes, yes, yes. A thousand times yes, my lord.”

  His lips pressed against hers and Emma nearly lost her breath. She kissed him back for all she was worth and would have kept kissing him if he hadn’t lifted his head to grin down at her. “No more my lording me, sunshine. When I make love to you, I want to hear you call out my name.”

  When he made love to her? Emma would have collapsed into a pool of mush if he hadn’t been holding her. “You want me to call you Alden?” she said, hoping to keep from swooning.

  But he made a sour face that reminded her of the boy she’d first met so many years before. “Alden?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe you even know that name. Only my father ever called me that. And I don’t want to think about him when I have you in my arms, Emma.”

  Well, of course, she knew his Christian name. It was something a lady made a point of knowing when she was madly in love with a dashing gentleman.

  “Heath,” he informed her. “Heath, from here on out.”

  “Heath.” She grinned up at him. “I’ve always liked that.”

  One of his dark brows rose in amusement. “I am so very glad to hear it. I hope to hear you say it often.”

  “When you make love to me,” she added boldly. But then they were in a secret room and there was a very lovely bed just a few feet away. And he had said he meant to marry her. “When do you suppose you’ll do that?”

  “Are you tempting me?” Before she knew what had happened, Emma found herself lying across the bed with Heath hovering above her. “You ought to be careful, sunshine, who you say such things to. You might find yourself in bed with the fellow.”

  Emma giggled as giddiness swept over her. “You’re the only one I’ll ever say such things to. You’re the only man I ever want to be in bed with.”

  A genuine smile settled on his face right before he dipped his head to capture her mouth once more. His tongue swept inside her mouth, tangling with hers, making her lightheaded. He tasted of wine and the sweetest heaven she’d ever known. One of his strong hands cupped her jaw while the other slowly trailed down the side of her neck, sending shivers racing across her skin. His touch was magical, better than she’d ever imagined.

  Heath lifted his head to gaze at her. “We shouldn’t do this, you know. I should go right now to Lord Norland, beg for your hand, and we should have the banns called this Sunday.”

  “Ahem.” Someone cleared his throat from the threshold and Emma froze, as did Heath.

  They both turned their heads towards the sound to find Emma’s father wearing a most unhappy scowl, standing just inside the secret room with an armful of liquor decanters.

  “Actually,” her father began, “under the circumstances, I don’t think we should wait for the banns to be read. What do you think, Heathfield?”

  ~ 9 ~

  Heath leapt to his feet and helped Emma find hers. Thank God he hadn’t started undressing her. Of all the people to stumble upon them, Lord Norland had to be the very worst. Well, the Duke of Danby would be just as bad, to be honest. Danby had threatened to put Heath’s head on a pike, after all.

  “Uh, sir,” Heath stammered. Damn it to hell, he never stammered. But what could he say? Sorry you found me seducing your daughter. She did agree to marry me first. Not unless he wanted a bullet in his skull.

  The marquess’s gaze shifted from Heath to Emma and back again. “Allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your engagement to my daughter.”

  “Papa.” Emma started towards her father, but Heath refused to relinquish his hold on his bride-to-be.

  “Thank you, Lord Norland.” He held his head high. Regardless of how the marquess found them, it didn’t change the fact that Heath had every intention of seeing Emma Whitton as his wife as soon as possible. “We are quite happy.”

  “You should be,” Norland clipped out. “How fortunate you are that my brother can perform the ceremony on the morrow. He ought to have something useful to do while he’s here.” Then he gestured back towards the library with his head. “Out of here, both of you. No one is even supposed to know of this room.”

  But Norland knew of it and had added a four-poster bed since the last time Heath had been there. Heath didn’t even want to think of why that could possibly be, so he nodded in acquiescence and led Emma back towards the room’s only exit.

  “Papa,” Emma said softly as they brushed past him. “What are you doing will all of those bottles?”

  Norland’s scowl darkened. “Never you mind.”

  “Hiding them fr
om Uncle Henry?” she asked.

  “Emma,” Norland growled, “I am barely managing to keep my temper. Return to the drawing room. Now.”

  Heath tugged her back into the library. “Don’t provoke him, sunshine.”

  As soon as they stepped into the corridor, Norland’s grumbling seemed to echo off the stone walls, louder than it had in the secret room. “Young lady, you will head straight for the drawing room and stay there by your mother’s side until I come for you.”

  At that moment, Lady Isabel poked her head out of a nearby parlor. “Father?” she asked as she stepped into the corridor. “What’s happened?”

  Emma and her twin locked eyes, as though silently communicating in some way.

  “Never mind, Isabel,” Norland boomed. “What were you doing at this end of the castle when we have a houseful of guests?”

  “I, um, just needed a little time to myself, Father,” she replied, frowning strangely at Emma as though she was trying to decipher something.

  Heath glanced at his bride-to-be to find her mouthing something to her sister, though she was doing a poor job of it. He had much better uses for her mouth. He nearly groaned in frustration. What a shame the marquess had stumbled upon them when he did.

  Norland sighed and looked from Isabel to Emma, then back to her again. “Your brothers never caused such trouble.”

  Then the man didn’t know his sons very well. Drew was a notorious rake and Philip had a darkness to him that went along with his creative mind, but Heath held his tongue. There was no point in poking an angry bear with a stick.

  “Come,” Norland said, starting once again down the corridor. “Your uncle and Louisa await.”

  “The vicar?” Isabel sounded more than appalled. “Emma?”

  But Emma said nothing to anger her father more, thank God. When Isabel turned her gaze on Heath, he simply pressed his lips together, hoping the chit would take the hint and stop asking questions with her father leading their little group down the corridor.

  ~*~

  Emma was nearly bursting to tell Isabel what had transpired, but between Heath’s grasp on her arm and Papa’s scowl, she would definitely have to wait to share her news. As they entered the drawing room, Cousin Louisa and Clara Mason stood by the fireplace, with cups of something that smelled like wassail. A few feet away, Mama whispered something to Uncle Henry, a stoic vicar.

  “Henry,” Papa said, clapping a hand to his brother’s back. “I’m surprised the weather didn’t keep you away.”

  Wishful thinking most likely. After all, it was no secret Papa and his younger brother weren’t particularly fond of each other. In fact, Papa must have been hiding his best whisky and smuggled French brandy from Uncle Henry when he stumbled upon Heath and Emma in that secret room. Emma’s face heated up at the thought, but she refused to let her father’s discovery diminish her excitement at finally having Heath to call her own.

  “It’s not so bad, Freddie.” Uncle Henry cast a dismissive eye on Papa. “Wouldn’t want to miss Christmas with my favorite brother.”

  “Indeed?”

  “Ah, good, you’re here!” Grandpapa lumbered into the room. He caught Papa’s eye and nodded at Heath. “Let us retire to my study. Heathfield, you will join us.”

  Emma reluctantly relinquished her hold on Heath’s arm, but he winked at her and whispered, “Chin up, sunshine. They’ll bark at me and grumble, but tomorrow you’ll be mine.”

  The promise made her grin like a child who’d been gifted with her most favorite toy. “Be careful,” she whispered back.

  Heath squeezed her hand. “Nothing I can’t handle.” Then he followed Grandpapa, Uncle Henry and Papa from the room. He looked back as he crossed the threshold, and the sincerity of his gaze made Emma’s stomach do more one flip.

  Before she could even sigh or revel in her giddiness, Isabel grabbed her wrist and dragged her to a secluded corner of the drawing room. “You must tell me what is happening,” her twin demanded.

  Tears of happiness wet Emma’s lashes. “Oh, Izzy…I’m to be married.”

  Isabel gaped at her. “Wha–what are you talking about?” she asked in disbelief.

  Emma smiled at her sister and pulled Isabel closer to her, squeezing her hand tightly. “To Heathfield. He wasn’t engaged after all.”

  “Yes, I know, but…I still don’t understand. You barely know each other. Don’t you think you should wait?”

  Wait? She’d been waiting all her life. A little laugh escaped her. “For what? I’ve been in love with Heathfield since I was in leading strings.” Besides, after the way Papa found them, she’d have the shortest betrothal in history.

  “But does he love you?”

  Someone began playing the pianoforte on the other side of the room, but Emma barely heard it. Did Heath love her? She rather hoped so. “He did kiss me, after all.” The memory of some of those kisses set her cheeks aflame once more.

  Isabel’s eyes widened. “He kissed you?” she asked, dismay lacing her voice.

  Emma nodded, nearly overflowing with giddiness. “Yes! And it was wonderful, Izzy. I wish I could explain it, but I can’t. It’s magical.”

  “And you’re ready to bank the rest of your life on one little kiss?”

  “Well, two, really—” Well, really there had been more than that, but Emma had lost count of the kisses he’d left across her bodice. And she didn’t think it wise to tell her sister that bit anyway. Isabel seemed more than a little distracted for some reason.

  “Two?” Isabel glanced across the room at the piano.

  Heavens. Perhaps it wasn’t distraction but disappointment. Emma’s heart hurt a bit. “Oh, Izzy, please be happy for me,” she begged. She’d feel awful if her sister thought badly of her.

  “I am, Em, truly I am.” Isabel smiled brightly. “If you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

  Relief washed over Emma. She grabbed her twin and squeezed tightly as though to impart how truly happy she was and how much she needed her sister. “I love you,” she said into her ear. “And I know one day you’ll find someone too. A man who won’t mind that you read books and sing horribly.”

  Isabel looked a little pained as she glanced back towards the pianoforte. “I think I may retire early, Emma. Do you mind?”

  Something was definitely distracting Isabel, but Emma knew she shouldn’t pry. Doing so would just make her sister more tight-lipped. So Emma smiled at her twin, hoping that Isabel would confide in her when she felt comfortable. “You will stand beside me in the morning?”

  “Yes, yes, of course I will stand beside you,” Isabel promised. Then they hugged one last time before her sister made her escape.

  ~ 10 ~

  Heath found himself surrounded by Whitton men in the ducal study. He’d told Emma he could handle them, and he could. Still, they were a little imposing. He should be relieved that Drew wasn’t among their numbers. He wasn’t sure how his old friend would take the news that Heath had married the man’s sister without even consulting him. Not that Drew’s opinion on the matter would change Heath’s resolve at all. Every second he spent in Emma’s company, he fell more deeply in love with her.

  “So you have nothing to say for yourself?” Norland slapped a hand down on the desk, snapping Heath back to the present. He must have missed something.

  Clearly the marquess wanted his pound of flesh. “Sir, I have no excuse for my behavior except that Emma makes rational thought flee my mind.”

  “Well, I hope between the two of you, you’re able to maintain at least one rational mind in the years to come,” Norland barked.

  “I’m afraid I got a little carried away.” And he couldn’t wait to get swept up, once more, in Emma’s embrace. Not that he’d say as much to her father.

  The duke cleared his throat. “Happened to the best of us at one time or another, Heathfield. You do remember that I have a pike outside my castle, just waiting for your head?”

  Heath touched a hand to his neck. He truly did enjoy keeping
his head on his shoulders. “My intentions were…are honorable, Your Grace.”

  Danby actually chuckled. “If they weren’t before, they are now.”

  Heath shook his head. “I swear it, sir.” And he meant it. “I seem to have fallen desperately in love with Emma.” He wasn’t even sure how it happened, but it had.

  “Glad to hear it.” The duke then turned his attention to Henry Whitton. “You did bring the licenses with you as I instructed?”

  The vicar nodded and retrieved a handful of foolscap from his jacket pocket, offering the entire stack to his father. “Of course.”

  “Licenses?” Heath echoed. “Do you have a special license with my name on it?” How in the world had Vicar Whitton managed that? Heath had only arrived today. Only realized today how much he loved Emma. There certainly wasn’t time to get the Archbishop to sign a special license and travel all the way to Yorkshire.

  Danby’s dark eyes twinkled mischievously. “Come now, Heathfield, surely you don’t think I’m unaware of what transpires under my own roof, do you?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “That ridiculous letter that lured you here. You do know Emma sent it, not Hardwick, don’t you?”

  Heath had figured that out relatively easily. But he had no idea how Danby had knowledge of it. “I knew something was off, but it wasn’t until I saw Emma that I put all the pieces together.”

  “Well, knowing my granddaughter as I do, I had no doubt she would bring you up to scratch,” the duke explained. “And knowing your reputation as a lothario, I made certain—” he waved the papers in the air— “that Emma’s good name would not be ruined in the process.”

  Heath hardly thought of himself as a lothario, but as he and Emma were caught in a bed—even fully clothed—he thought the better of saying as much. He did, however, narrow his eyes on the number of papers in Danby’s hands. “How many special licenses do you have there?”

  Danby glared at Heath. “I have one with your name on it, and that’s all you need to concern yourself with.”