Spring's Tender Heart (Seasons Book 2)

by Laura Landon

  “Yes, my lady. He is an avid reader.”

  Emma continued to browse the shelves where, to her surprise, she even found several Gothic romances.

  “I don’t want to take up more of your time, Mrs. Jefferies. I’m sure you have other duties to take care of, and I can get along by myself.”

  “Are you sure, my lady?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. But I would like to bother you for a tea tray before you go, if you don’t mind.”

  A smile lit the housekeeper’s face. “Of course not, my lady.”

  “And please, bring the tea into the morning room. I would like to read there.”

  The smile faded from the woman’s face. “Are you sure, my lady?”

  “Yes, quite.”

  “Very well,” she said, then bobbed a curtsy before leaving the room.

  Emma considered the choices she might make. She could have taken a dozen or more books to read, but limited her choice to three that interested her. When she finished her selection, she left the library and returned to the morning room.

  The tea tray, bearing scones and clotted cream, was waiting for her when she reached the morning room, but the heavy velvet draping was still drawn across the windows and the dust covers were still over the furniture. Emma wondered why the housekeeper hadn’t at least uncovered one of the chairs or the sofa. But she shoved the question out of her mind.

  Before Emma poured herself a cup of tea, she walked around the room and pulled back the heavy brocade drapery. The windows were massive and when she removed the elegant, dark fabrics, the sun flooded into the room. By the end of one circuit across the eastern wall she had freed each window from its dark shroud and felt the glorious, welcome rays of the sun begin to warm her shoulders.

  She stepped back and brought her hands to her mouth to cover a sigh of great pleasure. The room was beautiful with the wood of the furnishings bathed in morning light. Emma couldn’t resist rushing to a covered sofa to drag away its drab covering. But as the last corner swept away from the sofa, she gasped.

  A huge gash had been cut in the fabric from the back of one corner to the front of the opposite corner. Its gorgeous tapestry had been rendered useless by the jagged gash, where stuffing and rope lacings protruded crudely.

  Emma turned to what appeared from its shrouded shape to be a matching love seat. With a quick pull she dragged away its cover, revealing much the same vandalization. One damaged piece could have been an unfortunate accident. But two?

  In a mere moment she discovered that no piece of upholstered furniture in the room had escape the brutal slashing. Stunned, she carefully straightened the covers, leaving bare only one overstuffed chair that seemed to have received the least damage. With great care she dragged it to a window alcove, covering its flayed seat with a low pillow.

  It was here that she sat with her books, steadying her heartbeat as she set about breathing new life back into the room.

  ~■~

  Jonah walked down the hallway to his study, rubbing at a kink in his back. He’d spent far too long up on that scaffolding, but if he hadn’t made the repair when he did, the snowmelt would run into the walls and cause who knew how much rot. That would be a costly reconstruction he could never undertake by himself.

  Startled by shafts of light illuminating the usually gloomy hall, he stopped short near the entrance to the morning room where the door stood ajar. He stepped inside. The sunlight that streamed through the undraped windows nearly blinded him.

  He hadn’t set foot in the room since the morning he’d drawn the curtains and ordered the furniture covered, desperate to blot out evidence of his late bride’s rage. He’d spent a small fortune updating the furnishings in preparation for his new wife to occupy Glassborough Manor. And she’d shown him just how despicable she felt he was by decimating the first thing he’d ever chosen for her.

  Jonah’s stomach raged at the memory of it. So much so that he didn’t see Emma at first. He only saw the open draperies. It wasn’t until he stepped into the room that he noticed her. She sat in an overstuffed chair near the window with a book in her lap.

  Her eyes were closed and her head rested against the chair.

  Jonah had no intention of waking her. He couldn’t. His tongue had turned to leather and his hands were frozen at his sides. The room seemed to have rendered him mute.

  He could only watch her.

  She slept soundly, her breast rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm that seemed to ease his own embattled heart. He had every intention of escaping before she woke. He just wanted to watch her for a few moments. He wanted to memorize her features so when she was gone, he would have a pleasant memory to replace the horrific nightmare that Constance had left him with.

  He knew there was no explanation for what had happened when he and Lady Emma had first met, but the moment he’d lifted her in his arms, his entire body had reacted to her feminine softness. Every night his arms ached to hold her again, and now, it was impossible to tear his eyes away from her.

  What was there about her that haunted him so? What was there about her that mesmerized him enough that he was finally able to forget Constance and how she’d chosen death over life as his wife?

  A cold sweat washed over him when he remembered Constance’s lifeless body on the morning of their wedding, sprawled across the bed alongside the open packets of sleeping draughts that had taken her from this world. He quickly shifted his gaze to the lady sleeping in the chair next to him and was engulfed by an overwhelming calm.

  The woman he’d rescued from the storm hadn’t chosen death to escape something she found unacceptable. Instead, she’d summoned the courage to solve her predicament. She’d shown a strength Constance hadn’t possessed.

  Jonah watched Lady Emma for several moments before he realized that her sleep was slowly becoming less restful, agitated, as if she remembered something she didn’t want to recall. She sucked in a harsh breath, then stiffened in her chair. Her breathing escalated as her eyes opened wide in fright.

  She sat for several moments without noticing that he was there, then slowly turned her head until her gaze locked with his.

  “Oh,” she said on a gasp. “Oh…I’m sorry. I fell asleep.”

  Jonah walked to the bell pull to summon Carter. “Perhaps a glass of wine, my lady?”

  “Yes, thank you. I would welcome that.”

  Her answer drew a smile as Jonah relayed his request to his butler who appeared a moment later. Constance had refused to be in the same room with him. Not even long enough to enjoy a glass of wine. As soon as he suggested anything that would put them alone in the same room, she had made her excuse and escaped.

  “Thank you,” Emma said when Jonah handed her the wine that arrived swiftly.

  “Are you the one who opened the room to the light?”

  “Yes. It was I. This room is far too beautiful to keep it hidden in the dark, my lord.”

  “It meets with your approval?”

  “Oh, yes,” she answered on a sigh. “It’s a beautiful room. It feels…I don’t know, somehow as if it’s seen tragedy it doesn’t deserve. Or wants to forget.”

  “I suppose it has,” he answered her, then turned away lest she see the emotion their conversation evoked. How was it possible to be so comfortable with this woman even when speaking of the most horrendous moment in his life?

  “Why do you keep all your rooms closed off?”

  Jonah was intrigued. She didn’t seem the least frightened of him. Everyone in the countryside was. It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard the rumors that circulated about him. It wasn’t that he didn’t know what everyone thought. They all thought he’d killed his fiancé. Some of them had even guessed the truth—that his fiancé was so terrified of him that she’d killed herself rather than spend the rest of her life with such a monster.

  Jonah shook off his thoughts of the past and remembered the question she’d asked. “Because there’s no need to keep them open,” he answered.

  “D
o you have no visitors?”

  She wasn’t shy, that much was obvious. “No, Lady Emma. I have no visitors.”

  “Why ever not?” She took another sip of her wine, then locked her gaze with his as if waiting for an answer to her question.

  “You don’t know?”

  “No, Lord Glassborough. I do not know. I asked Mrs. Jefferies but she refused to answer.”

  Jonah rose from the sofa on which he’d been sitting and walked to the opposite side of the room. He stood before the multi-paned French doors and looked out onto the garden. There were no flowers in bloom yet, only a blanket of slowly melting snow to make everything seem cold and barren.

  “Do you mean to tell me that you are not frightened of me?” he asked.

  “Frightened of you? Why should I be frightened of you?”

  Jonah turned to face her. “Perhaps because of my size. Or my harsh features. Or my gruff voice. Or the scar that runs the length of my face.”

  “To be honest, my lord, I hadn’t noticed any of those attributes.”

  “You hadn’t?”

  “No.”

  Jonah walked back to her and sat on the ottoman at her feet. “Then what have you noticed about me?”

  “That you are a brave man who came out in the middle of a spring snow storm to rescue me. And that you are a very compassionate man who held me carefully while we made our way back to your manor house. A very caring man who encouraged me to keep breathing and not give up.”

  She tilted her head to the side as if evaluating every detail she could remember. “You are also the man who watched over me that very first night. And several after that.”

  Jonah was surprised. “How did you know I sat with you that first week? You didn’t wake once.”

  “I felt your presence, my lord.”

  “It could have been Mrs. Jefferies. Or one of the maids.”

  She shook her head. “No, it was you. Your presence was too powerful. Too…comforting.”

  Jonah took a swallow of the liquor in his glass, then placed his glass on an ornamental table. “What are you running from, my lady?”

  For a moment he thought she wouldn’t answer. But when the lady’s gaze shifted, then locked with his, her words were not what he had expected. “What are you hiding from, Lord Glassborough?”

  Jonah couldn’t stop the smile from lifting the corners of his mouth. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d smiled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d sparred with a female. Both felt good.

  “Perhaps you’d like to answer my question first,” he said.

  “Only if you guarantee you’ll answer my question.”

  “I’ll answer your question. Besides, it’s only a matter of time until you discover why I live in solitude.”

  The lady emptied her glass, then set it on the table next to his tumbler. He expected her to lower her gaze or avoid looking directly at him. But, she didn’t. She faced him directly and exhibited a strength he found admirable.

  “My mother died when I was just a child, my lord. My father remarried when I was twelve.”

  “Did you dislike the woman your father married?”

  “No, quite the opposite. The woman he married was kind and I believe she truly loved my father. And he loved her. Unfortunately, they were both killed in a carriage accident two years ago.”

  “The Marquess of Willowbrook and your stepmother. You lost them both in the same accident. That must have been very difficult for you.”

  He watched the subtle changes in her face as she fought to keep her composure. She was a grown woman, but it was clear the loss had taken its toll. And why wouldn’t it? Willowbrook was one of the wealthiest men in Society. Everyone had heard of him. He was rumored to have the Midas touch. Every venture he undertook turned a handsome profit. Even the Queen asked his opinion when considering where to invest her money.

  “Did you know my father?”

  Jonah smiled. She didn’t remember they’d had this conversation. But then, she had still been in quite a weakened state. He nodded his head. “I knew him, though not well. I only met him once or twice. My father was an acquaintance of his. They’d been in school together.”

  “Oh,” she said on a sad sigh. “Then you probably know he was quite wealthy.”

  “And deservedly so. He was a brilliant businessman.”

  “When he died, he left his wealth to me in trust.”

  “Yes, you’ve told me as much. And of course, that means money will never be an issue for you,” Jonah answered. He couldn’t help but be a bit envious. Money had always been an issue for the Glassborough name, for as long as Jonah could remember.

  “For me, the money father left me has always been a curse.”

  Jonah couldn’t hide his confusion.

  “Fogive me, Lady Emma, but earlier you indicated your father had restricted the funds that could be drawn by your husband, should you marry. Surely that safeguard protects you from the curse of scurrilous suitors.”

  The lady rose from her chair and walked to the window. “It did. Until Father died. My stepbrother Gerald has the authority now, and in his greedy haste to collect half my fortune he challenged the codicil, claiming he was obligated to draw adequate funds to see to my wellbeing. But,” she said with a smug grin. “When I gain control I can turn off his spigot of free-flowing cash.”

  She faced Jonah.

  “Do you know how many suitors have courted me?” she asked, her face barely masking her anger. “More than I can count. Not because any of them ever loved me, mind you, but because they were desperate for the wealth I would inherit at twenty-one.”

  She locked her hardened gaze with his. “If my father had known the true measure of his stepson he would have protected me. But Gerald is devious. Charming in a rather villainous way. So, until I am twenty-one, my stepbrother must give his permission for me to marry. And while he inherited quite a comfortable fortune from his mother, he has managed to fritter it away.” Her hands fluttered about, underscoring her frustration as she related her dilemma. “So now he wants what is mine and he has refused to grant permission for me to marry any man except one of his choosing. And the man he has chosen is…is vile beyond words.”

  Lady Emma stopped to compose herself. “And why do you think he has chosen this particular person, pray tell?” She drilled Jonah with an intense glare, as if she were certain he could never guess the reason.

  “It’s rather obvious, I should think. The suitor has agreed to share it with your stepbrother.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Yes! Exactly!” She began to pace. “For two years I’ve held out, but now that I’m within six months of taking full possession of my inheritance they’re getting desperate.”

  Jonah drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair.

  “Just who is this desperado?”

  “My stepbrother’s choice is Viscount Charleton.”

  Now it was Jonah’s turn to react with distaste. “Charleton!”

  “It appears you know the man.” Lady Emma wilted into a chair, clearly exhausted from the telling of her dire straits. “In which case,” she continued, “you will understand my fear that it’s quite possible I would not survive the first year of marriage with him.”

  She shook her head angrily. “None of his previous wives did.”

  Chapter 4

  Jonah stared at the fear on his houseguest’s face. “How could your stepbrother agree to a marriage between you and Charleton? The man is widely known to have a violent temper.”

  She dropped her eyelids, gave a slightly tremulous sigh, then seemed to find her resolve.

  “Half my inheritance was ample incentive. And I had proof that was their scheme! You see, I searched the house until I found the marriage contract Gerald and Lord Charleton drew up. When I turn twenty-one, my father’s entire estate will come to me. But if Gerald can get me married to Charleton before then, control of the funds goes to Charleton. And Charleton is bound by the agreement to hand over half of
it to Gerald.”

  “He’d sell you. Like a piece of chattel. That’s monstrous.” Jonah rubbed a hand across his forehead, realizing he’d entered into a similar bargain not so very long ago. Now he recoiled at the very thought of it. “I suppose it was an easy bargain to make, though. Even by gaining only half of your estate your stepbrother and Lord Charleton will both become very wealthy men.”

  “And I will live in fear for my life every day until Lord Charleton kills me.”

  The portent of her words sat heavily between them. Jonah leaned his elbows on his knees and took in a long breath.

  “So you ran away.”

  “I had no choice.”

  “Where were you going?”

  “To London. Then, to America.”

  “That is a wise decision.”

  Jonah watched Lady Emma as she reached out to the window ledge to steady herself. She swayed from one side to the other as if she had lost her balance.

  He rose, then took several steps toward her. “Come. Sit down.”

  But she resisted.

  “You promised if I told you why I was fleeing from my home, you would tell me why you keep your rooms dark and why people think you are a monster.”

  “Perhaps another time.”

  “No, my lord. You gave me your word and I’m holding you to your promise.”

  Jonah took in a deep breath. “Very well.” He leaned against the window frame and watched her reflection. He needed to see her reaction, but somehow couldn’t look her in the eye.

  “I will tell you what you want to know, but only after I’ve admitted that I am exactly like all the other men who have courted you. Except I must assure you that I am no longer interested in marriage. Not now. Nor ever. Please be assured, I have no designs on your wealth.”

  A frown creased her forehead. “You are independently wealthy?” she asked.

  Jonah laughed. “Far from it.”