An Unlikely Father

by Lynn Collum

  Lady Cora’s face suddenly went ghostly pale as she realized the depths of her mistake. She turned to her one ally, Lady Hawksworth, but the old lady’s face appeared as cold as granite. In that instant she knew all was lost. Straightening her back, she announced, “Pray excuse me, but I never remain where I am utterly bored.”

  With great arrogance, she marched away from the group, but the squashing sound made by her shoes ruined the drama of her exit.

  Oliver looked at Emily, who stood with her arm protectively about Jamie. He knew in that instant that he hadn’t lied to Lady Cora. This was where he wanted to be. London and all the women of his past no longer held any appeal.

  But would he feel the same if it were only he and the children? As his gaze roved over her lovely face, now framed with golden-brown curls loosened by the rigors of the cricket game, he suddenly realized that he wanted Emily Collins to remain a permanent part of the picture.

  His grandmother interrupted his thoughts as she moved to stand beside him. “Can you forgive my having mistaken that female for a proper lady? I shudder to think what kind of mother she will make if Halcomb is ever able to bring some unsuspecting fool up to scratch.”

  He leaned down and kissed his grandmother’s flushed cheek. “As long as you agree to leave my affairs in my hands.”

  The lady knew exactly what he referred to and nodded her head in agreement. Then she turned to Emily. “Dear Miss Collins, I cannot thank you enough for protecting my little Jamie from that woman.”

  Emily was quite unprepared for the lady’s change of attitude with regard to her. “My lady, I assure you that the children are as dear to Delia and me as they are to your family.”

  Jamie, distracted by Lady Cora’s near assault, suddenly remembered that all his captives were escaping back to the lake and began to dash about to return as many as possible and confine them in the box. Soon everyone, save the countess and Miss Millet, had joined him. Afterward, Oliver struggled to convince the lad that the frogs would be better outdoors than in the nursery and was forced to appeal to Emily and Delia. A compromise was soon found. The frogs would be placed in the small fountain in the knot garden near the castle for the time being.

  Sir Ethan, eyeing his friend’s sodden condition, announced that the children would be in need of a new guardian if Oliver continued to stand around wearing wet clothing in the cool air.

  The earl offered his grandmother and Miss Millet each an arm and led them back to the castle as Emily and Delia helped the children gather their hats, new toys and pets. Sir Ethan remained behind to escort the younger ladies.

  While the children ran ahead, the baronet offered an arm to each lady. As they made their way back to the castle, Delia quietly thanked the gentleman for helping arrange the picnic and thus saving the children from having Lady Cora as an aunt.

  Sir Ethan laughed. “Oh, I had little to do with it, lass. ’Twas the lady who did in her own chances to be the new countess. I was hesitant to intrude into my friend’s affairs, but I cannot say I am unhappy at the results. One can see she will make a dreadful wife.”

  Emily couldn’t contain her curiosity. “How did Lord Hawksworth come to contemplate such a termagant for a bride?”

  The baronet considered the question for a moment. Not thinking it proper to discuss his friend’s private affairs with others, he merely said, “On the surface, the lass has what most gentlemen in Society want, Miss Collins. Lineage, beauty and of course the one thing that might make up for the lack of everything else—a fortune.”

  The words sent a cold chill down Emily’s spine. Was her fortune going to be some prize that gentlemen vied for, caring little about her? The prospect certainly made a Season in London less appealing. Perhaps Delia was correct; the fewer people who knew of her inheritance, the better.

  They reached the castle where the earl, still in his wet clothes, awaited them alone, the countess having retired to her rooms. There was a look in his eyes that sent her heart racing.

  “May I have a word with you, Miss Collins?”

  Sir Ethan suggested that he and Delia see the children back to their nurse. Emily was aware of the worry in her friend’s eyes at the prospect of leaving her alone with the earl.

  “I shall only be a moment.” Then she followed the earl into the library.

  He moved near the fire, and Emily joined him there. When his gaze met hers, time seemed to stand still. There was a magnetism in his blue eyes that sent her senses reeling. Their mesmerized gazes remained locked, and the only sound in the room was the crackling of the fire. The muted conversation of passing servants in the hall seemed to bring the earl from his trance, but there was a huskiness in his voice. “I merely wanted to thank you for what you did in protecting my nephew.”

  As every nerve in her body seemed to tingle at his look, Emily struggled to keep her thoughts on the conversation. “My lord, I hope you are not too disappointed to discover Lady Cora’s shortcomings.”

  Oliver was amazed at the depth of his feelings for the woman before him. He struggled to keep his desire for Emily in check. He wanted to crush her to him and devour her, but she was not some practiced mistress, only an innocent in the ways of love. Instead he gave in to impulse only to the extent of tracing his finger along her jawline before lifting her chin. “I discovered a great deal more than that today, my dear.”

  Emily’s heart raced as she took his meaning; then the earl’s mouth covered hers. She knew she should be outraged that he’d taken such a liberty, but instead she surrendered herself freely to the passion in his kiss. She’d tried to keep from falling victim to his charms, but when his lips touched hers, she knew she was lost. She was in love with Oliver Carson.

  A knock sounded at the door. Startled, the pair drew apart. Emily again gazed up into the blue eyes of the earl and trembled, but she wasn’t certain if it was from fear of her own raging emotions or that he didn’t love her and was merely amusing himself, as rakes were wont to do.

  Hawksworth bade the intruder to enter in a hoarse tone, and a servant stepped into the library to inform his lordship that his grandmother had ordered him out of his wet clothes at once or he would fall ill.

  Emily was suddenly embarrassed at her wanton conduct. “You must do as your grandmother bids, my lord.” With that she hurried from the room, her thoughts in a whirl.

  Oliver cursed his grandmother for once again interfering in his affairs, but went up to get more comfortable even as his thoughts dwelled on Emily Collins.

  The distracted earl scarcely had thirty minutes to change before he learned that Lord Halcomb’s carriage was at the door and about to depart. Glad to be rid of the pair, but knowing his duty as a host, he hurried down to exchange stilted farewells. He might have saved himself the time, for neither the lady nor her father was in a mood fit for man or beast.

  With an angry shout, Lord Halcomb ordered his coachman to spring ’em, and the coach bowled away from Hawk’s Lair. Bedows closed the door as he muttered, “Good riddance,” to which Oliver silently agreed, but he merely informed the butler to tell Sir Ethan he might be found in the library.

  The earl settled behind his desk, but was in no humor to look at the accounts Mr. Grant had left. His mind returned to the earlier kiss. He was in love with the contrary, managing Emily Collins. The kiss had only confirmed what he knew—he wanted her. He had wanted her from her early days at the castle, but now it was more than mere physical desire. She had stirred his blood as no other woman ever had. True, it was often in anger, but it had only made him determined to gain the upper hand in the next encounter. Life would never run smoothly with Emily. He was certain they would argue over most matters, but he wanted her to be his wife, to share his life and the lives of his wards.

  At the thought of proposing to Emily, his mind moved to Lady Hawksworth and all her plans. There could be little doubt that despite his grandmother’s softening attitude, she would be resistant to a female who lacked the aristocratic lineage and vast fortune of La
dy Cora. While Oliver knew little of Emily’s history save that she came from a genteel family from Warwickshire, he’d gleaned the information that she was an orphan whose late uncle had run an indigo plantation in the India. Doubtless the heirs had sent her packing upon inheriting, but she seemed reluctant to speak of other members of her family.

  The sounds of a carriage arriving at the castle brought Oliver from his musing. Concerned that the marquess had returned for some reason, the earl rose and opened the library door, prepared to immediately handle any matter concerning Halcomb or his daughter.

  Unobserved, he watched in amazement as a rail-thin man with blunt features, who was dressed in an ill-fitting coat of brown superfine, pushed his way past the butler. A rotund little woman in a dark green traveling gown and two young people—the elder male and the other female—hovered in the doorway as if fearful to cross the threshold. The intrusive gentleman scanned the contents of the Great Hall as if he were taking an inventory before he querulously announced, “I demand to see the Earl of Hawksworth at once, my good man.”

  Bedows was not in the least intimidated. “If you have a card, sir, I shall take it to my master to see if he is at home.”

  The man shook his cane at the servant. “I’ll not be barred from a house where my niece is in residence. If that rake ain’t at home, then inform Miss Collins that her family has come to welcome her back into the bosom of her family.”

  Oliver stifled a groan. Every line in the stranger’s posture spoke his unhappiness at finding his young relative at Hawk’s Lair. There could be little doubt the man was fully aware of Oliver’s reputation.

  Unfortunately, there was little hope of avoiding contact with Emily’s relations, since he fully intended to marry her. Oliver closed the door and returned to his desk, where Bedows found him some moments later. The earl took the card and tossed it to his desk after a brief glance. “Show them in, Bedows, and inform Miss Collins of their arrival.”

  Ten

  In her private drawing room, Emily stood before the windows, her fingers lingering on her lips as she remembered the searing kiss in the library. The earl’s touch had sent her senses reeling, but with distance between them, she must think more rationally. She couldn’t allow herself to hope for much beyond a dalliance on the gentleman’s part. While she might foolishly harbor dreams of marriage, perhaps the earl’s ideal of a proper wife was someone of Lady Cora’s stamp—aristocratic, sophisticated and wealthy.

  Then she remembered the baronet’s words that a fortune would make most gentlemen forget the lack of the former qualities. Well, she wouldn’t be wed merely for her money.

  Yet still she clung to the idea that perhaps Lord Hawksworth had truly fallen in love with her. That he intended to make her an offer. She’d been careful not to mention the fortune she’d inherited. Could he have kissed her in such a manner without some deep feeling?

  At that moment Delia entered. “The children are all safely back with Mrs. Waters.” Then, seeing the look on Emily’s face, she came to her, saying, “What did the earl wish to speak with you about?”

  Emily shrugged, but felt her cheeks warm. “Lord Hawksworth wanted to thank me for protecting Jamie from Lady Cora’s wrath.”

  “Then why do you seem so ... distressed?”

  With a tight laugh, Emily moved to sit in a chair near the fire. “Don’t be silly. I am merely tired and a bit flushed from all the outdoor activity.”

  Delia joined her friend, still doubtful of her mood. She made an effort to keep the conversation light by speaking of the children and the pleasantries of the afternoon before Lady Cora’s tantrum.

  A knock sounded on the door, startling the ladies. Upon entering, Bedows announced, “Miss Collins, a Mr. Joshua Collins and his family have arrived.”

  At once Emily turned to Delia, knowing only she would have known where to correspond with Emily’s relations. “What have you done?”

  The widow bit at her lip. “I thought it for the best, my dear. You are young and fabulously wealthy. You heard what Sir Ethan said this afternoon. You will be attracting every fortune hunter in England when word gets about that a new heiress has arrived. You will need the protection of a family. I cannot bear to think of anything bad happening to you.” Delia wisely refrained from mentioning her fears about the earl, knowing her employer’s headstrong nature.

  A thought suddenly flashed through Emily’s mind that she might need someone to protect her from her own family. But having not seen them in years, she knew she might be doing them an injustice.

  “You know they would not have me all those years ago after my parents died.” With a sigh at the old hurt, Emily took note of the contrite expression on Delia’s face. “Don’t worry. I shall go down and welcome them. Who knows, they may be much improved in the intervening years.”

  She rose and announced, “Bedows, I must change my gown first, then I shall join my relatives.” Without another word, she went to change and prepare herself for a meeting with people she thought never to see again.

  Determined to be civil despite Mr. Collins’s belligerent attitude in the hall, Oliver extended his hand to the man when he marched into the library. “Good afternoon, sir. I am Hawksworth. ’Tis a pleasure to meet Miss Collins’s family.”

  That gentleman was a bit taken aback by Lord Hawksworth’s friendly attitude, for it was not what he’d heard upon making enquiries about the earl after receiving Mrs. Keaton’s letter. In truth, Squire Collins had been much distressed to learn that his niece had fallen into the clutches of a hardened rake—although his feelings had little to do with Emily, barely remembering her as more than a tearful waif at his brother’s and sister-in-law’s funeral, and a great deal to do with the fortune she’d inherited.

  He eyed the earl speculatively, then decided there was no reason to alienate such a powerful lord. The squire was certain that all he need do was exercise his power as head of the family and he would soon have the girl away from Hawksworth and under his control. The gentleman quickly introduced himself, his wife and his children, then got down to the matter which was so urgent.

  “We have only just learned of our beloved niece’s return from the Indies and hurried to bring her back to Warwickshire. We would like to greet her on her much-anticipated return.”

  “Of course. I am certain she will be delighted. I have already sent word of your arrival. She should be here any moment. May I offer some refreshments while you wait?”

  A delighted smile lit Mrs. Collins’s round face. “Oh, that would do nicely, my lord, for we were in such a hurry to arrive that we had only a paltry fare at a shabby little inn on the road.”

  Mr. Collins frowned at his wife and she fell silent, a contrite look on her countenance. Mr. Roland Collins inquired about a collection of snuffboxes that were displayed on a small table in the corner, seemingly little interested in greeting his cousin.

  Oliver scanned the faces of the group in front of him as all but Roland took their seats before the fire to await Emily. Mrs. Collins appeared to be one of those women with little to say save for parroting her husband’s views, as she presently sat with a vacant look in her eyes, her hands folded. Mr. Roland Collins was a handsome young man who appeared almost foppish, while Miss Bettina Collins was plain and inclined to the dowdy plumpness of her mother. But where the mother looked vacuous, the daughter’s intelligence was evident in lively green eyes which watched her father with what could only be described as distaste.

  The arrival of the Collinses was a puzzle to Oliver. While Emily had spoken lovingly of her late Uncle Nathaniel, she’d made no mention of any English relations. In truth, Oliver had the impression she had none, or at least none with whom she wished to renew ties.

  The tea tray came long before Emily. As Bedows served, Mr. Collins watched Oliver with dark, shifty eyes. Mrs. Collins’s attention was riveted on the selection of cakes and sandwiches on the silver tray, but the son seemed more interested in inspecting the contents of the room than eating a
s he picked up one item after another to examine. Miss Bettina sat worrying her bottom lip as if some great problem weighed upon her.

  Oliver was suddenly reminded of ferrets when his gaze roved from Mr. Collins to his son as their sharp features seemed to take in everything. Clearly Emily took after her mother’s family.

  At last the awaited lady entered the library. She cast a shy, yet intimate smile in Oliver’s direction before turning her gaze on her uncle. Then such a bleak look settled in her amber eyes that Oliver wanted to go to her and hold her in his arms, but he was certain she wouldn’t welcome such conduct in front of her relatives. Instead he merely said, “Miss Collins, your family has come to greet you.”

  She stood stiff and unyielding as the Collinses all trooped forward to give her a welcoming kiss. Only Bettina sounded genuine when she said, “Welcome home, Cousin.”

  Emily’s tone was anything but welcoming to Mr. Collins. “Uncle Joshua, you needn’t have come all the way to Somerset. I am certain we would have encountered one another in Town ... sooner or later.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, my dear child. It’s been nearly fifteen years since we last saw you. We have worried ourselves sick about you since we received word of your Uncle Nate’s passing and you all alone in that heathen land to deal with all those financial matters of selling the plantation. Why, Roland even suggested he might come out and escort you back to England.”

  The young man gave her an engaging smile. “It would have been my great honor to have rendered such a service, Cousin.” He then gave a practiced bow.

  Emily’s gaze swept her young cousin, whom she remembered as a detestable brat who’d carried tales about her to Uncle Joshua during her brief stay at their home. She took in pomaded blond curls, a purple coat and red waistcoat with large gold buttons and four fobs dangling at his waist. Her opinion was that the young dandy probably couldn’t get himself across the street without help, much less out to Calcutta.