by Sharon Sobel
In fact, his sleep was so deep she doubted he would be bothered by anything she did just now. But to be sure, she decided to experiment. Her hand moved along the lines of his chest, smoothing the light hair near his nipple, and then dipping lower, to his waist.
“I would not go there this morning, if you wish to make an appearance at this day’s luncheon,” Nathaniel said softly.
She smiled as she looked up at his face, but her hand stayed where it was. “What if I say I do not have an appetite for eggs and kippers this morning?”
Nathaniel turned onto his back, pulling her onto him so that her head rested on his shoulder. One of her legs fell between his, and he shifted his body.
“Is it your leg that troubles you?” she asked.
She heard the rumble of his gentle laughter in his chest.
“Nothing troubles me in this new year, save the thought that your Aunt Daisy might send out a rescue party to Scotland, thinking we are in Gretna. Or even worse, that she and Uncle Michael will come bursting in here, suddenly desperate to read Fordyce’s Sermons or something of that sort.”
Emma lifted her head but could not see his eyes. Instead, she studied the start of the new day’s beard on his chin, and the delicate line of his lower lip.
“They never seemed overly concerned about our whereabouts before. I recall you spent nearly a week building a flying machine before anyone wondered for what purpose those large paper wings were intended. I shudder to think about it now, for if you had managed to get out of the tower window, you would have dropped like a stone.”
“But I did not die that day in the pursuit of science, and for no other reason than that you were not yet finished painting feathers on the wings.” He laughed again. “So, you see, you bring me luck when we are together. I would not have been buried at Paestum if you were with me then. And now you will be with me for the rest of our lives, which may be for many, many years.”
“Please, Nate, there is no need to change anything between us.”
He brought his arms around her, pulling her along his body until their noses touched.
“Everything has changed, my love. We will be lucky if our absence at dinner last night was noted only by half the people in attendance. But surely our aunt and uncle noticed and will likely rejoice in the prospect of a double wedding. They might not have bothered us overmuch years ago, but we are no longer children.”
Emma rubbed her cheek against his rough one. “So we keep saying, and yet it is all wonderment. I feel as if I know everything about you, and yet hardly know you at all. I suppose you must shave everyday?”
He laughed. “I do.” They lay together several minutes in silence. The household stirred outside their locked door, and carriage wheels splashed in the puddles in the drive outside the window when he said, “And I suppose we might have made a baby last night.”
Her body reacted in a startled movement, and she accidentally kicked his leg. He responded with a sharp intake of breath, and then settled back against the cushions.
“Would it be so very terrible, Poppet? he asked.
“But it was only once . . .”
“Three times,” he pointed out.
“But only one night.” She sighed. “And I am no longer young.”
“Oh, indeed. I reckoned you among the antiquities in ancient Greece. Though now that I think of it, you are not yet thirty, young enough to still have many children.” He shifted his position, and started to raise himself up with her still clinging to him. “Emma, did your several lovers leave you completely untouched?”
She blushed, though why she should be embarrassed to speak of these things while she lay naked with a man, her legs between his, was beyond her understanding this morning.
“Beaconstone did kiss me once. And Mr. Fitzhugh took me to Vauxhall, but he drank overmuch and passed out on a bench.”
“It seemed to have been a habit of his. I pity the man, but you must admit you will do much better by marrying me.” Now that they were sitting upright on the chaise, Nathaniel pulled the wool shawl over their shoulders for either warmth or her modesty. “It is not possible that anyone could ever have loved you more than I do.”
Emma knew everything he said was true. He was her best friend, he was clever and caring, and their lovemaking was both passionate and all she ever dared to imagine. More, in fact, than she had ever dare imagine. But she had already weathered so many storms that it remained difficult to imagine arriving at a safe harbor, even with Nathaniel.
“Is it because we know each other so long and so well?” she asked.
“I have known Rutherford, the stablemaster, longer than I have known you, and I do not feel I must ask him to marry me.” Nathaniel pulled the strand of pearls from the nest of curls on her head and seemed to be weighing them in his hand. “Do you not trust me?”
“I do trust you. I always have,” she said gently. “I know what you are feeling because I have adored you for all my life.”
“Then it is settled. What say you to a wedding on the morn after Twelfth Night?”
Still, it was impossible for Emma to simply say, “Yes.”
“It is only six days hence. Do we not require a special license?”
“My beloved Emma. I have managed to obtain permission to dig beneath a man’s house in the agora in Athens and sailed on a pirate ship while claiming to be one of their brethren. Surely I can manage this small bit in good time.”
Finally, it did seem quite settled. “Perhaps I do not know you so well, after all. You have never told me about pirates.”
But before he could, there came the sound of loud footsteps from the hall.
“What do you mean they are locked in the library?” Lord Michael shouted. “They are probably doing some damned experiment with wings or feathers or whatnot!”
“Well, he certainly is right about the whatnot,” murmured Nathaniel, and kissed Emma’s racing pulse at the base of her neck. “And I believe we should get dressed so we can tell him about the ‘what now.’”
NATHANIEL WAS NOT the very last to appear for breakfast on the first morning of the New Year, nor did he seem to be the one worst for the festivities of the night before. In fact, he felt like celebrating all over again.
His valet managed to get him bathed and shaved in record time and refrained from commenting on the wrinkled state of his clothing or on the scent of lavender that lingered on his skin. It seemed a sacrilege to wash it off, but he guessed he could return to the source for more.
Emma was already in the dining room when he arrived, and he did not recall ever thinking her as beautiful as she was this moment. Her hair was simply set into a coronet braid, and her plaid gown was both modest and fitted well enough to set his body on fire. Her hand hovered over a plate of sliced bread and cheese, but it looked untouched. Her eyes caught his as he entered the room and held.
Nathaniel strolled over to the buffet table with as graceful an air as possible for a man whose damaged leg had supported him above a woman the night before, and filled a plate with sliced meats. He turned towards Emma, but another gentleman slid into the seat next to hers. He found a place at the foot of the table, closer to his uncle.
“A good morning and year to you, sir,” Nathaniel said to Uncle Michael as he sat. Emma still watched him and the rogue next to her watched her. “I believe last night’s ball was most successful.”
Uncle Michael stirred his coffee, as if the act required all his attention. “Indeed,” he said at last. “Those who attended thought it an excellent evening.”
“I thought the same,” said Nathaniel. “Though I cannot comment on the ham or oysters. In fact, I have an announcement to make this day.”
“It had better be what I hope or, in my new role as protector of Lady Westbrook’s family, I shall have to meet you at dawn in the meadow. And it
’s damned cold out there.”
“A duel is not necessary, as it appears I shall share the role of protector with you. In any case, Miss Partrick is mine.”
“Congratulations, my boy. I prayed you would have the good sense to grab her in between her other ill-fated betrothals and make her see the right of it.” Uncle Michael paused to take a gulp of his coffee and coughed. Nathaniel gently tapped him on his back. “Fancy that, though. I always thought it would be the other way around.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“Lady Westbrook and I decided to postpone our own nuptials until we thought the two of you were quite settled, though not necessarily with each other. Only recently did we finally give up, convinced the two of you were old enough to blunder along your own paths.”
“That is not a very kind way of putting it.”
“You are quite right. Let me instead say that we were convinced the two of you could find something to do in the library other than peruse the collection of fossils.”
“Uncle . . .”
“The chaise near the fireplace is quite comfortable for two people who are willing to share extremely close accommodations.”
“Uncle, please.”
“You need not look so horrified. Lady Westbrook and I do not yet count ourselves among the fossils.”
“What about the fossils?” asked Lady Westbrook, suddenly standing between them. “I should like to have a glass case made so they can be displayed without the necessity of the maids dusting them every day.”
Uncle Michael patted her on the hand and smiled. “You see how well she will manage my household? Am I not getting a good bargain?”
“My dear love, when you see my first dressmaker’s bill, you may wish yourself and Nathaniel back in a bachelor’s household.”
“It is too late for that, Lady Westbrook,” said Nathaniel. “In fact, I hope I will not steal your thunder when I make an announcement this day.”
Emma’s Aunt Daisy was already looking down the length of the table to her niece, who smiled a little too brightly for one who was doing no more than nibbling on her cheese.
“It is about time,” she murmured as Nathaniel rose a little awkwardly to his feet.
Suddenly, the door opened, ushering in a blast of cold air and the scent of damp wool.
“Peter Milton,” Nathaniel said, even as he wondered if it could be so. “What are you doing in Pencliff?”
“Did you not invite me several weeks ago? I have decided to accept.”
PETER ATE LIKE a starving man at Lord Michael’s table, earning the amused looks of the other guests. At one point he studied the holly bush centerpiece on the buffet, and Lady Westbrook warned him that not only was it inedible, but also poisonous. His eyes turned to Emma, but she was studiously avoiding him, as she had from the moment they were introduced.
Nathaniel guessed Emma already knew his friend, but wondered how well Peter knew Emma. For all his friend’s warning about her reputation and the deeds he attributed to her, Nathaniel could not help feeling Peter was oddly taken by her. He complimented her on her appearance and excellent taste, offered to escort her back to town, and tried to engage her in conversation. Emma’s responses were terse, though polite. She seemed vastly more interested in a discussion of trout fishing at the other end of the table.
“For someone of your censorious nature, you seem rather complimentary to Miss Partrick,” Nathaniel said to Peter when they were finally alone. Emma had vanished along with her aunt, and the rest of the company went off to bore each other with a game of charades. “Do you fear she might curse your existence unless you flatter her into good humor?”
“I suppose her beaux tried that, to no avail,” Peter mused. “One has to pity the poor sots, though. To be seduced by such beauty, and then betrayed by Fate. It is a very bad thing.”
“Why, my friend, you sound very tempted to try your own luck with her.”
Peter looked startled. “Oh, not at all. The pater believes it a miracle I have not already killed myself in some misdeed, and I do not need anyone’s help in that regard. But I have come to Pencliff to save you, my friend. You have been out of society for so long, I thought you might be overly susceptible to her charms.”
Nathaniel rubbed his hand along his chin, thinking if such were the vagaries of society, he had done well to keep out of it. For what little he had witnessed spoke of foolishness and gossip, and the slandering of reputation. He could only wonder how his uncle managed to carry on an affair for so many years without damaging his or Lady Westbrook’s good names. And why Emma chose not to find refuge, far from society, with her unconventional and undoubtedly wise parents.
“You came to save me? This is a new turn of events. I would not have been here at all, if you had not given me the dire prediction about Miss Partrick and my uncle. In fact, I might have broken my neck on that treacherous carriage ride, and it would have been entirely on your account. And all for nothing, by the way. Your informants gave you a false report, as Lord Michael announced his betrothal to Lady Westbrook at last night’s ball.”
“So I heard, in the early hours of this morning. One of your uncle’s guests was carrying on a bit of business with a certain lady, and rode through the night to return to his wife in Danbury House before dawn. Luckily, I had already removed my weary body from her bed chamber and happened to meet him in the hall. We chatted a bit, and so I heard the truth about the upcoming nuptials. I am sorry I got that story wrong, old man.”
“Mrs. Rolande’s husband was here at Pencliff?”
“He might not have been using his real name.” Peter shrugged as if it really did not matter, and Nathaniel knew his own assessment of society was perhaps too generous. “But then I wondered if Miss Partrick, disappointed, might transfer her affections to suit the circumstances. She seems rather adaptable. After all, how many women can claim to have been in love with three men in the span of just a few years? I came here, just in case.”
Nathaniel was startled. “Do you mean, that she might come to fancy you?”
Now Peter looked surprised. “Not at all. I feared she might make a play for you. You are your uncle’s heir, after all.”
Nathaniel sat back in his chair. “It is far too early in the day for a drink, but you are sorely tempting me. Emma Partrick never had any designs on my uncle, whom she loves like her own. And she did not, as you say, make a play for me, because I stole a march on her.”
Peter leaned forward. “You held her off?”
“Quite the opposite. I held her close. And did everything else in my power to seduce her. In fact, she has agreed to be my wife.” Nathaniel allowed this bit of news to settle in, as he doubted Peter would have received a report of this turn of events as he came out of another lady’s bed chamber. “And I believe I may have to challenge you, for you have certainly impugned her honor.”
Nathaniel could not imagine another circumstance in which he might twice be discussing the prospect of a duel in the space of a half hour.
Luckily, Peter ignored the last comment. “I am too late, then. It is as I feared.”
“You are at least twenty years too late, for I now believe I may have loved her since the day we met.”
“And look what has happened.” Peter sighed heavily and rested his head on the table.
Nathaniel waited for several moments, believing his friend’s gesture was all for dramatic effect. But when he parted Peter’s hair so he could see his eyes, he realized Peter was sound asleep. Delivering bad news was surely a job better done on a full night’s sleep.
“I AM GOING TO marry Nathaniel,” said Emma. She sat at a small table, helping her aunt curl little bits of ribbons into rosebuds. Aunt Daisy had decided to have the Twelfth Night Cake represent the four seasons, and having finished sugaring tiny pine cones and holly leaves, their attention was on
the pleasures of spring.
“I know, my dear. Surely you don’t think his uncle and I were grinning like fools over the quality of the eggs this morning? I shall have to discuss the most effective cooking times with Mrs. Corcoran.” Aunt Daisy reached for her sewing scissors. “Nothing could make us happier.”
“Are you quite sure? If something happens . . .”
“The only thing that will happen is you will make us grandparents at last. I did not particularly envy my friends who had babies with startling regularity, but I should very much like to have many grandchildren.”
“Thank you very much,” Emma said somewhat sarcastically. But in truth, ever since Nathaniel startled her with his logical speculation about the events of the night before, she had been thinking a lot about babies and how lovely it would be if they looked like Nathaniel. Her own mother and father had proven themselves unworthy of parenthood, but Emma thought she and Nathaniel might manage it all very well.
“You will be a wonderful grandmother, Aunt Daisy,” Emma said more generously. “As you have been a wonderful mother to me.”
“Oh, my darling girl,” Aunt Daisy said, and reached a pink-stained hand across the table. “I have only wished for your happiness.”
Emma took her hand, finding comfort and warmth in her aunt’s grasp, as she always did. “I dare hope it is now mine.”
“If I may disturb this cozy moment, I await your commands,” said Mrs. Corcoran. She glared at Aunt Daisy, who grasped Emma’s hand more firmly, steadying herself against an attack by the beast of the Pencliff kitchens.
“How lovely to see you, Mrs. Corcoran. I quite forgot you were there, undoubtedly listening to all my niece and I had to say to one another. Do you have a question about the length of time required to boil an egg? I believe they were a bit watery at lunch.” Aunt Daisy’s quiet, ironic tones were customarily the signal for Emma to escape from the conversation, but her aunt held her fast.
