Always True to Her (Emerson Book 2)

by Maureen Driscoll

  “Did something bad happen to him?” asked Irene as they made their way to Layton’s carriage.

  “In a way. He ended up married.”

  “Are you saying you dislike his wife?”

  “Not at all. Ava is a wonderful woman and he has truly met his match.”

  “I like Aunt Ava,” said Anna, as James helped her into the carriage.

  He then offered his hand to Miss Wallace, who seemed reluctant to take it.

  “I am your servant,” she reminded him.

  “And I am still a gentleman. Let me help you in, Miss Wallace. Surely there is no harm in simply touching your hand in public.”

  Irene knew there was nothing simple about it, especially now that they were setting off on their journey. Somehow that made everything different. More tempting. In the end, she gave him her hand, but was careful to extract it from him as soon as she was in the coach. She busied herself helping Anna get settled, but her fingers still burned from his touch.

  James sat opposite them. He was dressed much the same as she’d always seen him. The same greatcoat made of rough wool. The same scarf, the same hat and gloves. But today he seemed bigger, though goodness, he certainly didn’t need to be any larger than his regular intimidating self.

  She had no fears for her safety, of course. A whole team of highwaymen could attack them and she had no doubt James would best them all. And she didn’t fear that he would try to seduce her. After all, his daughter was there.

  More’s the pity.

  She bit her lip at such a disloyal thought. She was quite fond of Anna and looked forward to spending time with her. And Irene certainly couldn’t allow herself to be seduced.

  But perhaps, just perhaps, she would allow herself to be kissed.

  Of course, that was assuming he even wanted to do so. He’d never given any indication in the past of such a desire. And he was looking at her now with an odd expression. Perhaps he was trying to figure out how to strand her at the next stop. Or trade her to highwaymen.

  That was the trouble with big, handsome men. You never knew what they were thinking.

  *

  James wanted nothing more than to take Irene’s beautiful hair out of that severe chignon, rip off those ridiculous glasses which did nothing to disguise her beautiful eyes and remove her blue travelling costume. He thought she was going to try to look like a governess. But her gown was obviously in the first stare of fashion, though judging from a few threads at her collar, something had been removed to make it look less expensive.

  It wasn’t working.

  He noticed her cloak wasn’t fur lined, but the cut of it easily marked it as expensive. A real governess could only afford it if her mistress had given it to her. But no woman he knew would throw away such an elegant cloak.

  Truth be told, the clothes mattered naught. The lady wearing them was quality and always would be, regardless of whether she was the daughter of a viscount or a charwoman.

  Or, his inner thoughts couldn’t help adding, the wife of a poor farmer.

  It was a good thing Anna was with them for he wanted nothing more than to introduce Irene to the pleasures of making love in a carriage.

  It wasn’t just beauty, but a vibrancy of spirit that attracted a man. Miss Wallace was richly endowed with both.

  He’d like nothing more than to take her back to the room she’d leased for the hour, throw her onto the bed, then slowly unbutton her gown until she wore only her silk shift beneath. For he was fairly certain that Miss Wallace would allow herself some luxury. He would run his hand down her body, reaching the thighs which would part for him. Then he would run his hand up her leg, searching for the heart of her as he lowered his mouth to her breast, licking and suckling her nipple.

  “Papa?”

  He turned to his daughter and felt guilty for even having those thoughts in her presence. “Yes, poppet?”

  “Are we going home to see Letty?”

  “You mean to Uncle Colin’s house?” The last thing James wanted was for Anna to start thinking of Ridgeway Manor as home.

  “Yes. Home.”

  “Do you miss your Aunt Leticia?” asked Irene, as she adjusted one of Anna’s scarves.

  The little girl nodded. “Are you coming to see Letty with us?”

  “Uh, well, I do not believe so,” said Irene, with a glance at James. “I am just going to help your papa with something.”

  “Oh,” said Anna. “Then will you come see Letty after that?”

  “I do not believe so,” said Irene gently.

  “I wish you would.”

  “Miss Wallace cannot be gone too long, poppet. Her papa and grandmama would worry.”

  “Oh,” said Anna again. “Papa, do you think Miss Wallace could come to America with us? If we tell her papa and grandmama they won’t worry where she is.”

  James had unfortunately chosen that moment to take a sip of cider. He was now coughing up most of it. “I do not believe Miss Wallace wants to go to America.”

  Anna turned her penetrating gaze to Irene. “Don’t you like us?”

  “Of course, I do. It isn’t that at all. But that’s your home and my home is in London.”

  “Why?”

  “You were born in America and I was born in England.”

  “Why?”

  “That is where your mama and papa were living. While mine were in England.”

  “Why?”

  “Anna,” said James, who decided to have mercy on Irene, since he’d been the subject of Anna’s why questions at one point or another. “Why don’t you tell Irene about America? Tell her what your life was like there.”

  Anna thought about it for a moment, then said quietly. “Nimaamaa died.”

  James was surprised. Anna rarely spoke of her mother. She’d been so brave while Alawa was dying. She’d wept at her passing, but rarely spoke of it. It wasn’t her way. “Her mother,” James said softly to Irene.

  “I am so sorry, Anna,” said Irene. “That must have been terrible.”

  Anna nodded, then looked out the window, as if lost in thought. “I loved her.”

  “Of course you did. And I’m sure she loved you, too.”

  Anna turned to her, surprised. “How do you know?”

  “I am certain of it,” said Irene. And it appeared to James that she was on the verge of tears. “How could she not love you? You are everything a mother could want in a daughter.”

  For a moment, James wasn’t sure if Anna would cry. Hell. He wasn’t sure if he would cry. But Anna nodded slowly, then looked out the window again. James took out two handkerchiefs. He handed one to Anna. He gave the other to Irene, who took it and dabbed at her eyes. He wished he had a third for himself. But, really, who would have thought he’d require three of them? Was this how it was for a married man with a child?

  Not that he was a married man. But…was it?

  And that was how they spent the first hour of their journey.

  James was beginning to fear what the rest would be like.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Two hours into the trip, Anna had fallen asleep against Irene. She laid the girl out on the seat, letting her use her lap for a pillow. As Irene tucked a blanket around her, she became aware of James’s disquieting stare. A stare she shouldn’t think too much about.

  “Tell me about your farm,” she said to him.

  He leaned back against the cushion. “How much time do you have?”

  “I believe, sir, that I have all the way to Portsmouth. What makes this land so important that you would cross an ocean to save it?”

  “The farm is not that important. But Anna is. I would fly to the moon and back if I could give her a good future. But since you ask, I have forty acres in Bucks County, north of Philadelphia. It is fertile earth and I am told tobacco would grow well there.”

  Irene wrinkled her nose. “You cannot feed a family on tobacco.”

  “But you can buy what you need from selling it. I would also have a plot to grow my own
vegetables. I was even going to buy a cow.”

  “And what were you going to do with this cow?” asked Irene, barely refraining from laughing.

  “I was going to milk it, of course,” said James, with a languid smile. “I would take the teets in my hands and squeeze firmly, but gently. Alternating the rhythm, gaining her trust. I would make it a ritual. Every day, early in the morning.”

  “Every day?” asked Irene, who was incredibly warm, despite the frigid weather.

  “As soon as I rose,” said James, with heavy lids.

  “Lord James!” admonished Irene. “Anna is here.”

  “She is asleep.”

  “Be that as it may, your cow….milking….activities are hardly a suitable topic of conversation for mixed company.”

  “Would you like to hear about my plans for the bull?”

  “Not in the least!”

  “Very well, though you are taking much of the fun out of what promises to be a long day of travel. I would raise as much food as possible, but there is a town half an hour away where I could buy provisions. We would not starve, Miss Wallace.” Then, lest she misunderstood to whom he was referring, he added “Anna and me.”

  “I knew you meant Anna and yourself.” She tucked the blanket around Anna again. “What of your house? What does it look like?”

  “Well, there isn’t exactly a house there, Miss Wallace.”

  “And what does that mean?”

  “I was planning to build a house.”

  “In the dead of winter. With a young girl in your care.”

  “Before I learned about Anna, I was living in a rudimentary structure, barely larger than this carriage. After retrieving her, I was planning on spending the rest of the winter in Philadelphia, then building the house at last frost.”

  “And just what were you planning on doing with Anna while you were building the house?”

  “Are you a budding journalist, Miss Wallace? Is that why you are interviewing me with such zeal?”

  “I am doing no such thing. I am only trying to get an idea of what is at stake in America.”

  “I will be the first to admit that my farm is more of an idea right now that an actual place. But do you believe a modest dream has no merit?”

  “On the contrary, I can see how it would be a dream very much worth preserving. Tell me of the house you will build.”

  “For your article?” he asked with a slight smile.

  “Hush. Tell me about it.”

  “Well, originally, it was just going to be one large room. It’s easier to heat that way. I was going to have a cot for myself, with a smaller one next to me for Anna. I had a small table and two chairs, a wash basin, a cutting board and a bucket for the well. I also had two quilts, which I brought back to England with me. One of them is Anna’s and was made by her mother.” He said that last part quietly, because he didn’t want to awaken his daughter.

  “Why do you think she asked if her mother loved her?”

  “I do not know. I know little of their relationship other than what I saw at the end when Alawa was ill. I believe she loved Anna, though she was not a demonstrative woman by nature. I do know poor Anna had been ostracized by most members of the tribe. I hate thinking of the pain I caused my daughter. I should have been certain that there had been no…consequences…to my affair with Alawa before leaving.”

  “That may be true, but I do believe that had you known of her being with child you would have stayed. Or somehow provided for them.”

  “You put a good deal of faith in the existence of my better qualities, Miss Wallace.”

  “I do, don’t I?” She studied him for a moment, then she looked down at Anna to ensure she was still sleeping. “Did you love her? Miss Alawa?”

  “No,” he said quietly. “At least not the way you mean. I liked her very much. And when she sent for me and I learned how well she’d cared for Anna, I did love her in the way of a good friend. But at the time of our affair, we were simply a means to stem the loneliness for each other. Now, I am afraid I have lost some of your esteem, which saddens me more than I like.”

  She shook her head. “I appreciate your honesty. And I know enough of the world to realize that men and women can have affairs without a deep and abiding love.”

  “Often times they work out better that way. Love is an odd thing, Miss Wallace. It tends to cloud the senses, in much the same way as over-indulging in drink. And the aftermath can be just as brutal. When it comes to affairs, it is often preferable to merely like one’s partner. I’ve even had occasion to enjoy myself when the lady and I disliked each other. In fact….”

  “Yes, yes, yes, Lord James. I take your meaning. No need to regale me with the scores of women you have liaised with.”

  “I did not realize I’d ever been sophisticated enough to liaise with anyone. What about you, Miss Wallace? Have you ever been tempted to get good and liaised?”

  “Certainly not!”

  “No need to go all missish on me, like the proper governess you are attempting to imitate. I only asked if you’d ever been ‘tempted.’ Not if you’d actually succumbed.”

  “I have never done either.”

  His gaze dropped to her lips. “Have you ever been kissed, Miss Wallace?”

  “You shouldn’t ask such a thing.”

  “No, I shouldn’t. Have you?”

  “Once,” she said.

  “What was it like? And don’t tell me I’m being improper for asking when in fact you are the one at fault for answering my questions. I cannot be blamed if I don’t like hearing only part of a story.”

  “I daresay you can be blamed for many things, Lord James. If it will stop this line of questioning, I shall answer. I was kissed once in the moonlight, on the terrace at a ball.”

  He frowned and, to Irene’s great consternation, she found it flattering.

  “I can’t imagine the dragon liked that very much,” he said.

  “The drag-, er, Grandmama, did not find out. Nor does she know to this very day, so I would appreciate it if you would not mention the matter.”

  “I will try to avoid the subject during my next conversation about love with the dowager. Who was it?”

  “That is really none of your concern.”

  “I don’t like half a story, Miss Wallace.”

  She sighed. “Very well. It was Lord Clayton.”

  “That bastard!” James sat up straight in his seat. “I’ll call him out!”

  “Hush!” said Irene. “You’ll wake Anna!” She leaned over to check on the girl, who seemed to be sleeping unusually soundly.

  “Clayton is a scoundrel! He took advantage of you.”

  “He did no such thing. He is guilty of nothing other than, well, we shan’t speak of it.”

  “Oh yes we shall! What is he guilty of?” James all but bellowed, even as he was trying to keep his voice down. “I know he forces his servants to work in the worst conditions and he tried to seduce Colin’s wife Ava when she worked for him.”

  “I am very sorry to hear that. And I am glad she is away from his household.”

  “Our cook Maude also worked for him and had nothing good to say about the man.”

  “I am sorry both ladies had bad experiences. At the time, I knew nothing of Clayton other than he was amiable and wore his evening clothes well.”

  James scowled. “Just because a man is in possession of evening clothes, it does not make him a gentleman. What was he guilty of? Because I will not hesitate to turn this carriage around and punish him for his infraction. Any infraction. I already know enough of his sins to warrant a detour.”

  He reached up to knock on the ceiling to get the driver’s attention. Irene caught his arm just in time to avoid it.

  “There is no need for that, my lord.”

  “Yet there will be a certain joy in planting the man a facer – or worse.”

  “Might I remind you we are on a schedule and time is of the essence?”

  He scowled, but refrain
ed from contacting the driver. He was, however, still in possession of her hand. He turned it to kiss her wrist, which started a firestorm of sensation. The wretch seemed to know what was coursing through her because after he finally did release her hand, he sat back with a satisfied grin. “So what was he guilty of?”

  “Being a bad kisser. Well, I do not know if he was a bad kisser, as I had nothing to compare him to. I still don’t. For all I know, kissing is a most overrated activity and Lord Clayton is superb at it.”

  “I guarantee he is not.”

  “How can you know? Have you kissed him?”

  “Do you want me to turn this carriage around?”

  “No,” she said, giggling.

  “I know Clayton is not any good at kissing because of the way you felt afterward.”

  “How should I have felt?”

  “As if the world stopped turning for a moment, then began spinning again at twice its speed.”

  “You’re being quite fanciful.”

  “I am only telling the truth. And if you allow me to kiss you I will prove it.”

  He wanted to kiss her? Irene didn’t know about the earth coming to a standstill, but just the very thought of James kissing her seemed to suck the air from the coach. Her mouth was dry, but her palms were sweaty. She felt robbed of her wits.

  “You cannot kiss me. Anna is on my lap.”

  “I’m not kissing your lap…yet.”

  Now the rake looked especially proud of himself, though Irene did not quite understand what he meant. He gently picked up his daughter and moved her to his seat. He tucked the blanket around her, then moved to the opposite seat next to Irene.

  “You look like a cat about to pounce,” she said.

  “I am not a cat. And I don’t often pounce,” he said, as he leaned closer to her. He removed her glasses.

  “Wh-what are you doing?” she whispered.

  “Giving you something to compare Clayton to.”

  “That is completely unnecessary,” she breathed, as he brought her closer to him.