“You mean in his cups?”
“It will be best if his lordship has a chance to compose himself before I broach the subject of―”
“But Merton is always under the table. Aren’t you, old chap? There never is a right moment.”
“Never sober if I can help it. Don’t see the point of being clear-headed. A person who is a teetotaler is always such a bore.” Lord Merton reached for the decanter at his side and, with an unsteady hand, started to refill his empty glass.
Without the formality of knocking, Carter entered the room. He’d returned with a tray laden with a mishmash of refreshments and was looking for a place to set it down.
“Where would you like this, miss?” he asked.
Emma walked to the chaise-lounge and sat. Pointing to the table in front of her, she said, “You may set the tray here, Carter. But before you leave, you can remove Lord Merton’s drink from his hand while I pour some of this excellent coffee you have made for us.”
Carter looked taken aback, but he did as ordered. Lord Merton grimaced his objection as his glass of brandy was removed only to be replaced with the proffered hot beverage. He mumbled a few choice expletives.
With one pout of censure from Emma, he drank.
“Now, what’s so urgent that it cannot wait until I come to town?” he asked.
As Carter withdrew from the room, taking the brandy decanter with him, Emma took a sip of her drink and then placed her cup and saucer down. “It concerns your promissory note. The note pertaining to Windhurst Hall, which I believe you gave to Cuthbert Williams and is now to be found in the hands of Lord Stratton.”
Sitting a little more upright in his chair and alert, Lord Merton asked, “Is this true, Stratton? Have you acquired my note?”
“I have indeed.” Lord Stratton smirked.
“Lord Merton,” Emma said, gaining his attention. “During the carriage ride to Newton Saint Loe, I had a chance to think, and I’ve come to a decision. I think I would like to pay off your debt.”
“And why would you want to do that?” Lord Merton asked.
She laced her hands in front of her. “I would like to return Windhurst Hall to its rightful owner―your cousin, Mr. Trent.”
Lord Stratton scoffed. “That’s not going to happen. Not while I have the note. The note gives me title to the property and―”
“Sounds like a reasonable idea to me,” said Lord Merton. “If Miss Brentry pays off my debt, you can redeem your money, and my cousin gets his home back. It doesn’t matter to me who pays the debt, as long as I’m clear of it. It’s a winning situation for everyone. Beneficial for all. That is, everyone except Miss Brentry, of course. What do you hope to gain by this transaction, Miss Brentry?”
“My financial loss need not worry you, my lord. I will benefit in other ways.”
Lord Stratton gave a cruel laugh. “She hopes to marry your cousin. With her money, she intends to buy a marriage, a husband, and a home. That’s exactly what she’s after, and I’ll be dammed if I’ll accommodate Miss Brentry in achieving her ends. And as for Trent, all he wants is her money to pay off your debt.”
“Well, now…that puts a different light on the matter,” Lord Merton said dryly. “So you’re prepared to buy my cousin and all he has to offer, are you?”
Emma felt ashamed because that was exactly her intention. Only now there was the matter of having fallen in love with Aaron. And yes, she did love him. She had come to love him deeply. It had crept up on her without her knowing until it had become an all-consuming, possessive desire.
At first, she’d lusted after his body, but as she got to know him, she’d grown to love him for who he was—a kind and understanding man.
At night, when she longed to be held in his arms and feel his touch, she had often cried because he wasn’t there. And then she had cried again because she knew it wasn’t her body that Aaron would want, but her money.
“It’s not like that… It’s not what you think. I’m marrying Aaron for a good reason. I want to return Windhurst Hall to him and―”
“If you only want to return Windhurst Hall, then here’s the deal,” said Lord Stratton. “If you’re prepared to marry me, Trent gets Windhurst Hall and I get you.”
“What do you mean?” Emma asked, perplexed. She thought she had made her feelings clear on that subject. She had no desire to wed his lordship.
“Marry me and I’ll hand over the promissory note and relinquish my rights to the property completely. But you have to agree to be my bride.”
Emma stared open-mouthed at Lord Stratton. Was he serious? Did he really want to marry in exchange for the note? Marriage to Lord Stratton could be her only means of getting Windhurst Hall back to Aaron, but it would also mean a prison sentence for her. To be tied to that man for the rest of her life was unthinkable…but she would do it…for Aaron.
“You still want to marry…me?” Emma asked.
“And that is not going to happen,” said an angry voice from the doorway.
Everyone turned to see who had spoken.
Aaron was standing in the doorway, and he looked terrifyingly menacing.
Chapter 15
Entering the room, Aaron walked over to the chaise-lounge, and taking Emma’s hand in his, he pulled her from the seat to stand beside him.
“You cannot marry Stratton. I won’t let you,” he said.
“But if it means you can claim Windhurst Hall as your own, surely it would be worth it.”
“I can do without Windhurst Hall in my life, but I can’t do without you,” he told her.
Lord Stratton threw back his head and laughed. “All very touching and sweet, but what about my money? Who’s going to pay Merton’s debt?”
“If you’re serious about handing back my home, I guarantee your money will be paid to your bankers by noon tomorrow.” Then, between clenched teeth, Aaron said, “But if you’re not in earnest, it will be pistols at dawn, and I warn you, I’ve been told I’m an excellent shot.”
Emma clung to him, and he could feel her tremble.
“Aaron, you cannot,” she pleaded. “I won’t let you.”
He smiled down at her. Her eyes were troubled, and he saw a glint of tears shining in them. “Then I suggest we walk away from the deal, my darling. We forget about Windhurst Hall, and we live elsewhere. Windhurst isn’t essential for our happiness. As long as we are together, that is all that matters.”
She reached up and caressed his cheek. “I couldn’t let you do that. It’s your home.”
Aaron returned his gaze to Lord Stratton. “Well, Stratton? What’s your pleasure? The money or pistols?”
“That’s a delightful choice.” Stratton pulled nervously at his cravat where it was tied at the pointed collars of his shirt. He was clearly on edge. “You’re offering me Brentry’s money, for it most certainly will not come from your own coffers, or a fight at dawn.”
Aaron saw red. He had heard the vicious insult behind Stratton’s words to both Emma and himself, and he knew there was now no choice. It had to be pistols.
“Then it’s agreed. It’s to be pistols at dawn,” Aaron said.
Lord Merton scratched his head. “What’s wrong with a duel now?”
“Stay out of this, Phillip. It’s my house, my fight, and my duel. If you had not gambled away my inheritance at the gambling table, we wouldn’t be in this mess. And perhaps it should be you that I’m dueling, not Stratton. After all, but for the fact you signed the note, we wouldn’t be here. But that is neither here nor there. Stratton has insulted Miss Brentry, and for that, he must pay.”
“I quite fancy Merton’s suggestion of holding the duel now.” Lord Stratton looked white around the gills but continued. “It will save the fuss and bother of having to get out of bed to meet you at dawn. Would a distance of twenty paces suit you, and do we need seconds?”
“I think we can do without our seconds. I’m sure that should my friend, Mr. Templeton, hear of this, he would advise against confronting yo
u. But your insult to Miss Brentry and her family cannot go unchallenged. What is it to be? Do we fight to first blood, or until one of us can no longer stand? Or do you choose to fight to the death?”
Aaron heard Emma’s sharp intake of breath at his brutal words, but he dared not look in her direction.
“I take it neither of you have come prepared, so I’ll ring for Carter and ask him to fetch the dueling pistols from the library. And then he may go in search of the doctor. Just in case.” There was childish excitement in Lord Merton’s voice.
Aaron knew what they were about to do was foolish, but he saw a duel as the easiest way to be rid of Stratton and the trouble he was causing. But if he were to shoot Stratton and Stratton were to die, then the consequence of this action would indeed be grave.
He might have to face a trial by his peers before being sentenced and imprisoned for wounding Stratton. Or he might even have to flee the country to avoid being punished if the offense was worse and Stratton died.
“Phillip, would you object if we made use of your lawn?” he asked. “And I’d much prefer Emma…Miss Brentry…remains indoors. Should anything happen to me—”
“No, I’m coming with you,” Emma protested. “You’re doing this for us, and I cannot let you face Lord Stratton alone.”
With a wide, unpleasant grin on his face, Lord Stratton said, “I shall be happy to escort Miss Brentry back to Bath in the event you are unable to do so, Trent. And rest assured, she will be more than well looked after.”
“Enough! Your tomfoolery is tedious and wearisome. Meet me outside when you are ready.” And with that, Aaron turned and left the room, allowing the other to follow at will.
Merton Manor was situated in the middle of the village, and although it didn’t have a large amount of grounds to call its own, it did have sufficient grass and space to the rear of the building upon which to hold a duel.
Aaron found two heavy branches that had fallen from a nearby tree, and pacing out the distance, he marked the spot where each man was to stand―and perhaps fall to his death.
Taking off his coat, he tossed it aside before loosening his starched cravat and rolling up the billowing sleeves of his crisp, white shirt. He was ready, if one could ever be ready for such a thing as a duel. And although coiled like a spring, he wasn’t afraid. He had faced the perils of war and the danger of an enemy too often to be fearful.
But he was anxious for Emma’s sake. He didn’t want her to witness the shooting and the outcome―whatever that might be. Being present on a battlefield and witnessing first-hand the horrors of combat was different to hearing about it from others, as civilians such as Emma generally did. He hoped there wouldn’t be too much blood for her to see; no matter whose blood it was.
Aaron was soon joined by Lord Merton and Lord Stratton, and then he saw Emma. She had come to watch.
“Damn!” he mumbled beneath his breath.
Lord Merton held out the velvet-lined case containing the pistols. He was offering Aaron the chance to inspect. “Stratton has already tested their weight and is happy. Would you like to see for yourself how the triggers pull before the barrels are loaded?”
“I’d better.” The muscles along Aaron’s jawline clenched. “I’ve learned from experience never to trust you. And even though you’re my cousin and we are of the same blood, I know now that I have to watch my back as far as you’re concerned. You have only your own interest at heart, Phillip, and I don’t know if I will ever be able to forgive you for what you’ve done.”
With the pistols inspected and chosen, they took up position. Lord Stratton’s hand was seen to be visibly shaking, but Aaron felt calm. He was facing the enemy and knew what had to be done.
“How would you like this executed?” Lord Merton asked. “Shall Miss Brentry drop her handkerchief as a signal to fire or shall I simply say take aim?”
“Damn it, Merton! Just get on with it,” bellowed Lord Stratton.
With slow, deliberate movements, both men raised their weapons to the firing position. But before the command to fire could be given, a shot was discharged.
Silence prevailed as a ripple of disbelief went around the gathering.
In an ungentlemanly fashion, and against all the rules, Lord Stratton had pulled the trigger before the order to do so was given. He stood dazed and perplexed as the smoking pistol fell from his limp hand.
A burning sensation hit Aaron in his left arm, and looking down, he saw the bullet had ripped through the material of his fine linen shirt, leaving a gaping hole and a bloody wound. He had been shot!
Blood began to trickle down his arm, and when he glanced up, looking across the lawn to where his opponent stood, he saw terror shining in his adversary’s eyes. Lord Stratton knew Aaron had yet to fire.
Leveling his pistol once again in Lord Stratton’s direction, Aaron took aim. But instead of firing toward his enemy, he tilted the pistol skyward and pulled the trigger.
By firing into the air, he had deloped. Even though Lord Stratton deserved to be shot, Aaron simply couldn’t kill an unarmed man. It was against all his principles and beliefs. And if that meant Stratton walked away free and unharmed, then so be it.
Taking a steadying breath, between gritted teeth, Aaron said, “Go…go before I change my mind, reload this pistol, and kill you. It would solve all our problems if I did just that.”
“But what about Windhurst Hall?” Lord Stratton asked.
“You shall have your money within the week. I wouldn’t want it said that the debt was never paid. Now be gone.”
Lord Stratton reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew the promissory note. He tore it in two, tossing the pieces onto the grass at his feet. Then, with a low bow in Miss Brentry’s direction, he turned and left Merton Manor at great speed.
“Are you hurt? Are you terribly wounded?” Emma asked as she rushed to Aaron’s side.
“It is but a scratch. I will heal.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist. It felt so good to have her near. And as the afternoon sunlight danced off her face, he held her close, not ever wanting to let her go. His eyes fixed on Emma, and he saw only her. All else was forgotten. There was also a great sense of relief she was safe and unharmed.
“Well, I don’t know about the two of you, but after this afternoon’s mischiefs, I’m in need of a hefty jigger. Brandy anyone?” And then Lord Merton retreated to the house in search of liquid comfort, leaving Aaron and Emma alone.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Emma asked.
“It is but a nick, and nothing that a kiss from you won’t cure. See for yourself.” Placing his fingers beneath her chin, he tilted her face up to his.
He claimed her lips, and the kiss that was meant to be gentle, deepened as their passion soared.
“Aaron, I need you,” she whispered.
“Come, let us be gone from here.” He stooped to pick up his discarded tailcoat, and with total disregard for the stain his blood might cause, he shrugged himself into it. “The sooner you are returned to your father, the better it will be for us both. You see, I cannot guarantee what will happen if you are not.”
Chapter 16
They had not been long on the road. Evening was fast falling, and the light was beginning to fade.
An idea came to Emma, and she turned to Aaron and said, “I think I’ve become quite faint with hunger. Would it be inconvenient if we stopped along the way at a posting inn and had a meal? I’ve had nothing to eat since breakfast.”
Aaron looked thoughtfully down at her. Concern was in his eyes.
“I must admit, I would much rather press on to Bath. Night will soon be on us, and I promised your father to have you home as soon as I could. He will be worried. But if I must, I can turn the carriage around and we can return to Merton Hall.”
“Oh no…not Merton Hall.” She felt a flush of excitement. “If memory serves correctly, we will soon be within reach of The Stag and Hounds. Can we not call upon Mr. and Mrs. Griffin
? Surely we can stop for a while?”
Aaron didn’t answer. He drove on in silence, and Emma began to wonder if he had heard her request. He had. For when they reached The Stag and Hounds posting inn, he steered the carriage beneath the inn’s arched gateway. And entering the cobblestoned courtyard, he drew the barouche to a standstill.
Just as before, Emma noticed a stagecoach positioned in front of the building. It was clear the stage had only recently arrived.
When an ostler stepped forward and offered to hold the horses’ bridles, Aaron climbed from his seat and walked around the carriage. He held a hand out to assist Emma in alighting, and she joined him on the hard cobbles of the courtyard.
“Thank you,” she said and flicked out her pelisse. The ankle-length coat, along with her dress, had become crumpled and creased on the journey.
“If you wait here, I’ll make enquiries and see if it’s convenient for Mrs. Griffin to serve us tea in her best parlor.”
Emma smiled. “Certainly, I’ll be happy to wait. Only I was wondering…could we not…”
“Could we not what?” he asked.
“No matter. It is not important―for now.”
Watching Aaron walk away, and with nothing to do except wait, Emma went over to where the stagecoach was standing and talked briefly with the postilion.
Aaron eventually returned. “Mrs. Griffin is more than happy to serve us tea. I’ve hired the best parlor, and it will be ours to use for the duration of our stay. Shall we proceed?”
He led the way inside the inn, and Mrs. Griffin showed them to the parlor, brimming with enthusiasm as she did so.
“It’s good to see you again so soon, miss. Right good it is. And with Mr. Trent too. I told Mr. Griffin you’d both be back. I were sure of it. Now, what can I get for y’r supper? How about we start with a nice pot of tea and some of my caraway cake?”
“Anything will be fine, Mrs. Griffin. But please do not go to too much trouble.”
“It’ll be no trouble at all, miss. Especially as it’s for you and Mr. Trent.” Mrs. Griffin bobbed a curtsy.
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