The Rejected Suitor (The Clearbrooks)

by Teresa McCarthy

  "When the sun rose. Thought you knew."

  Jared shoved his plate forward, his knife clanking against his glass. "No, I did not know."

  He glanced down at Nigel, who sat at his feet. The dog looked up, whined, and padded out the door.

  Agatha waved her hand in the air and munched on her toast. "I suppose you should know I gave my permission." Another bite.

  "Permission about what?"

  "The duchess asked Jane to join them."

  "Jane?"

  "Yes, your ward." She shot him a disgusted look as if he had no idea who Jane was.

  "The devil. I know who Jane is!" But how could Emily leave him like that?

  "Well, you do not have to be so disagreeable, my boy. I am only a few feet away, and I am not the one who is deaf."

  Jared took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Why did they leave so soon?"

  Agatha rose to retrieve some more food from the sideboard. "You know, the Season and all."

  Jared bit back an oath as he stared at his aunt's back. "And?" He waited patiently while she piled on a plate of eggs and sausage, returning to her seat.

  "The Season, Jared. Balls. Soirees. Operas. Plays."

  "What has that to do with Lady Emily leaving this morning?"

  "Lady Emily?" Agatha looked surprised. "I thought we were speaking of Jane."

  Jared stretched his neck, tugging at his cravat that seemed to have been tied too tight this morning. "I was led to believe that I was to escort Jane during the Season."

  Agatha chewed and glanced up. "You know, I do believe that our dear Jane has taken a dislike to the duke. It happened after he threw her into the carriage yesterday." She shrugged. "But it was not to be helped." She buttered another bun. "And no need to fret about Lady Emily. Her brothers will see to her this Season. So fortunately for you, you won't have to escort us at all."

  "What?" Had Emily's brothers found her a husband?

  "Are you deaf, Jared?"

  Jared glanced at his aunt in frustration. "Could you please explain about Emily's brothers?"

  Agatha stopped eating, staring at him with an expression that he could only interpret as worry. "Emily's brothers have decided to take the matter of her future into their own hands."

  "And?" His heart beat a little faster.

  "And they are going to choose a husband for her before the Season is out. It seems Lady Emily has a list of suitors a mile long vying for her hand."

  His face tensed. "Like who?"

  "Like Mr. James Fennington, for one."

  Jared shot from his seat and paced the room. "Fennington? The man is flat broke and a drunk."

  "He may be flat broke, but . . ." She waved her hand in the air as if the rest of the words were of no importance.

  He spun around. "What?"

  His aunt eyed him with concern. "They say he is more handsome than—"

  He leaned forward, his knuckles on the table. "Than who?"

  She gulped and glanced down at her plate, picking up her fork and shuffling the sausage around the eggs. "Than you."

  Jared scowled. Fennington was a dog. "Who says so?"

  Agatha looked up and coughed. Her eyes were half closed as she spoke. "Why, Lady Emily, for one."

  Furious, Jared closed his fingers into a fist. Emily could not be infatuated with that man. Roderick would not allow it.

  "And," Agatha went on, "the duchess told me that on one occasion her sons found Mr. Fennington hiding in Emily's bedchambers ready to escape with her to Gretna Green."

  Jared stilled. "That is the most preposterous thing I have ever heard." Roderick had told him about Fennington sniffing after Emily, but the duke had failed to mention Emily's bedchambers and Gretna Green in reference to the man.

  What other news had Roderick withheld from him? No matter, Jared reasoned, Emily belonged to him. The sudden notion filled him with a joy he had not felt since his daughter was born. Emily might not deserve him, but he would make it up to her.

  "Jared?"

  He glanced at his aunt, hoping he had not cut all ties to whatever feelings Emily had for him.

  "Hope you don't mind"—Agatha stood, grabbing her parasol—"I will be leaving in a week as well, and since I am having my place refurbished, the duchess invited me to stay with her . . ."

  His aunt went on talking, but Jared had barely heard anything she uttered past the words Gretna Green.

  "Jared, are you ill?

  "No, I am not ill." I am quite insane, thank you.

  "Then, of course, you are going to accept the invitation and come along with me? But you do realize that poor Nigel will have to stay here, I fear."

  Jared felt momentarily stunned. "What invitation?"

  "To stay with me at the Elbourne townhouse. You have already told me your townhouse is not fit to live in for a few weeks, and I am using the same workers to redo mine."

  Not fit for at least a few weeks. How fortunate. He would accept the offer to stay at the duke's London home. No doubt the duchess and Agatha made plans without Roderick's approval. But so be it. It would give him more time with Emily, whether she liked it or not. "Of course, I will stay there."

  Agatha clapped her hands and smiled. "Wonderful! You may inspect the suitors who come to call on Jane, and the duke will be there for Emily. His Grace is more determined than ever to see his sister set in an agreeable marriage."

  Jared’s brows slammed together in annoyance. Agreeable marriage indeed.

  Chapter Eight

  Emily had been in London for five days, and this morning she found herself among the crowd of women vying for Madame Claire's attention. Female giggles wafted above the bolts of muslin and silk in the dressmaker's shop. Emily stood with Jane beyond the window near the front counter. Roderick had escorted them to the shop thirty minutes earlier, quickly retreating to accompany his mother to the nearby milliner.

  Clad in a lilac gown with tiny blue flowers, Emily paged through the dress patterns more determined than ever to remove Lord Stonebridge from her mind. But her thoughts kept going back to his devastating kisses.

  The touch of his warm lips upon hers had left an indelible imprint on her mind, planting hope into her soul, tormenting her heart, making her realize that keeping a safe distance from the compelling man was the only hope of saving her sanity.

  He never loved her.

  "Emily, I do believe that someone is staring at you through the window. A fair-haired gentleman with a rather comely face. Wait. Wait. He is putting something to his eye. I believe it a quizzing glass of some sort,"

  Jane chuckled. "A very huge one, in fact."

  A huge quizzing glass? Emily's throat constricted with dread as she slapped the pattern books closed and threw a hand to the golden locket resting upon her neck. "Good heavens, I cannot believe he has followed me here."

  Smiling, Jane casually turned and showed Emily a bolt of crimson red material. "Do you think the handsome gentleman would prefer to see you in this color?" She picked out a flimsy purple concoction and giggled. "Or this one?"

  Emily groaned, pulling Jane's arm and shuffling past a mother and daughter fussing over a piece of French lace.

  "Jane," she hissed, "this is no times for jests. That is Mr. James Fennington. It seems he has decided it is me or nothing. I had once thought of choosing a fop like him for a husband to ensure my freedom, but, good grief, I simply could not do it."

  Jane's eyes flitted mischievously. "How utterly romantic."

  The corners of Emily's mouth began to twitch. "This is not amusing, Jane. Whatever am I going to do? You do not know the half of it. Roderick will surely shoot him if he sees the man here."

  Jane skirted her friend around a row of pink silks, their gowns rustling against the wall. "I must tell you, Emily, that I have heard about Mr. James Fennington, so you need not tell me a thing."

  Emily frowned as she met her friend's twinkling blue eyes. "Agatha?"

  Jane nodded. "But you may depend upon it, she has not told anyone
but me."

  Somehow, Emily doubted that. Her eyes darted about nervously. Good gracious. The man was a nuisance. "Oh, Jane, what are we to do? Roderick will be returning in a matter of minutes. I do not fancy seeing Mr. Fennington killed before our very eyes."

  Jane laughed, scooting them behind a tall stack of cream-colored muslin. "Surely your brother will not shoot the poor man."

  "You do not know Roderick. He is the most disagreeable person in all of England."

  Jane gave her friend a pat on the hand. "Stay here. I am going to peek and see if Mr. Fennington has taken his leave."

  Emily waited, becoming more uncomfortable by the minute. She paced back and forth in the small space allotted her. A wave of flowery perfume sailed her way as a rather large-sized woman squeezed in between her and the muslin.

  Within a minute Jane's slippers came slapping around the corner. Emily looked up in dread when Jane put her hand across her breast and let out a distressed sigh.

  "Emily, you will not believe it."

  Emily tensed. "Tell me he is not dead, or worse, entering the shop."

  Jane bit her lip, her eyes sparkling. "Very well, then, I won't tell you that the gentleman in question is entering the shop, and I won't tell you that every female here is watching him make his way toward you, and I won't tell you that, indeed, the wretched fop is carrying the most horrendous quizzing glass I have ever been subject to witness."

  A low murmur of female voices drifted through the shop.

  Emily grabbed her gloves from her reticule, wishing she could melt into the bolts of fabric and disappear. "Very well, then. I need to leave by another way. Do you know—"

  "Ah, Lady Emily." The deep baritone voice of Mr. Fennington made Emily stiffen. "What a miracle I have found you." Without a second to lose, he grabbed her naked hand, raising it to his mouth for a kiss. Cold, wet lips hit her skin like a slab of ice. She jerked her fingers out of his grasp.

  "Sir, you go too far."

  Jane tried to hide her snicker.

  Mr. Fennington glanced at Jane, then tilted his head, giving Emily a saucy wink. "Ah, forgive me." He leaned over to whisper in her ear. "I forgot, we are being watched."

  Emily blinked against the smell of spirits on his breath.

  "Mr. Fennington, how on earth did you find me? My brother will be here any minute." She hoped the man would take the hint to exit before Roderick showed his face.

  But the man seemed to ignore her warning. "I declare, I find myself drifting on a heavenly cloud whenever I catch sight of you, dear lady. But who may this beautiful angel be?" he asked, bowing to Jane.

  "Forgive me, Mr. Fennington. May I present my friend, Miss Jane Greenwell."

  Emily could not help but send Jane a smile at the vexing predicament they found themselves in. Emily rolled her eyes when Mr. Fennington took out his quizzing glass, stared back at Jane, then proceeded to kiss her friend's hand in the same fashion as he had hers. Jane towered over the man's bent head and stared back at Emily, her delicate brows lifted in shocked amusement.

  "Roderick, dearest, would you mind terribly if I waited in the carriage while you attend to your sister and Jane? My feet are vexing me to no end. I believe my gout may be acting up again."

  "Certainly, Mother. I will return as soon as possible."

  A row of shiny black coaches lined the cobblestone streets as the servants waited for their masters to return from their shopping. Roderick took the duchess's hand, gently guiding her into the Elbourne carriage situated a half block from Madame Claire's shop.

  The duchess leaned forward from her seat, patting her gloved hand across the back of Egypt's white coat of fur. "Do let the girls take as long as they wish. Emily is choosing a new wardrobe, and I want her to have as much time as she needs. Jane is knowledgeable on the subject, and I trust the girl completely. Do not worry about me. I will wait here and rest."

  Roderick groaned. "I daresay, it won't be anytime soon before I return with them, madam. An entire wardrobe, you say? Perhaps we could have Madame Claire make a visit to—"

  "Your Grace!" a lady's voice called out to the duchess, interrupting Roderick's plea.

  The duchess peeked around the open door.

  Roderick glanced over his shoulder, a frown flitting across his face. "It appears Miss Appleby and Stonebridge seem to be in Town. Imagine that."

  "How exciting," the duchess said as she slipped out of the carriage. "I was not certain that they would accept my invitation to stay with us, you know. I hear the earl can be such an obstinate sort of man—somewhat like you, Roderick."

  Roderick gave a grunt. "What about your feet?"

  "Of course, I have heard that the man can be accommodating as well," she said over her shoulder as she strode toward her friend, ignoring Roderick's question.

  Jared and Roderick exchanged curt nods.

  "Anne," Agatha cried, giving the duchess a hug. "It has been too long."

  "Too long?" Jared and the duke both said in unison, raising their eyebrows in bewilderment. Evidently the ladies had not heard them, for they had moved toward the milliner's shop to view the latest creations the duchess had ordered.

  "I have just been informed that you accepted my mother's invitation to stay with us," Roderick said to Jared, then lowered his voice. "I thought you might have possible business in St. Helena soon."

  Jared scowled. "You have information to pass on, Your Grace?"

  "Your Grace? Has our friendship come to that? It seems I may have to accompany you, if we have to go at all."

  A shadow of annoyance clouded Jared's face. It was obvious Roderick had not forgiven him for letting Emily be trapped in the fire. Jared had not forgiven himself.

  Jared glanced down the street, waiting for a pair of gentlemen to pass. "Sources say Boney's not happy."

  "Why should he be? The man was exiled."

  "There is some concern about an uprising."

  Roderick grimaced, stuffing his hands into his pockets and walking a bit past the carriage. "Will this blasted fighting ever be over?"

  Jared wondered the same thing as he followed beside the duke. "For England, it's over, but to the remnants of Napoleon's followers, it will take a long time to end." Monsieur Devereaux came to Jared's mind, but he was not about to bring the man's name up to Roderick. For it was the duke who had emphatically pronounced that the man was dead.

  Roderick's boots halted. "Ah, here we are." He frowned, leaning into the shadows of the dressmaker's shop.

  Jared lifted his head and quirked an amused brow. "Never thought Headquarters would go so far as have you wear one of Madame Claire's latest creations," he said sarcastically. "But as you say, orders are orders."

  Roderick sneered. "My sister and your ward are the ones choosing the latest creations, not me, and I refuse to wait for nightfall before they are done."

  Jared pictured the duke waiting hours beneath the dressmaker's sign and laughed.

  Roderick seemed to read his thoughts and leaned against the red stone front, crossing his arms against his chest. "I would advise you not to push your luck. I have not forgiven you for leaving my sister with that maddening crowd."

  Jared stiffened. The man had every right to be angry.

  "However, from this moment on, we must work together." Roderick's eyebrow lifted. "We are now entering into the den of the most dangerous places in all England."

  Jared pursed his lips. "And pray tell, what den is that?"

  "The female den. The most dangerous of all God's lairs." Roderick pushed himself off the wall and opened the shop door. "Not to mention mothers, Jared. Diabolical, conniving, devious mothers looking for the richest son-in-laws on earth."

  Jared laughed. "Indeed." He bowed to the duke. "Though I have a duty to see my ward clothed in the highest of fashion, you must proceed before me, Your Mighty Grace. You are far above me and should enter the den first. I insist."

  Jared heard Roderick mumble a curse as the bell above the entrance jingled, announcing their pre
sence.

  Jared stopped short as he looked around, taking in the ghastly sight. "I will never forgive you for this, Roderick."

  Roderick stood, dumbfounded. "Believe me, I had no idea. It was not like this when I left."

  The shop was filled to capacity with every female in London fancying a new gown. Jared grimaced when everyone turned their way. At least ten ladies and their mothers immediately rushed toward the two most eligible bachelors in London.

  Jared spoke through stiff lips. "Should have worn the gown, Your Grace. We would have been able to slink into this shop without such a commotion."

  "This is insufferable. Worse than Almack's."

  Heady scents of perfume assaulted their noses. Jared smiled to the gathering crowd of tormenting females, inwardly vowing to kill Roderick before the day was out.

  "Lord Stonebridge, I had no idea you would be in London."

  "Lord Stonebridge, however do you stay so trim?"

  "Lord Stonebridge, would you do me the honor of attending my little soiree tomorrow?"

  Roderick would pay dearly for this! Jared had quite enough when he became crushed between a bolt of copper-colored muslin and a tray of tiny porcelain buttons that clattered to the floor. He gave his friend a scowl, which immediately turned into a smile when he saw the duke pushed into a table containing a stack of very long embroidery needles. Served him right.

  As the minutes passed the mass of ladies competing for their attention was staggering. Jared could barely breathe. The situation was hopeless.

  "Ah, but Lady Emily, you seem to forget I will never give up." Both gentlemen snapped to attention at the sound of the only other male voice in the crowd.

  "Fennington," Jared mouthed to Roderick.

  There, in the corner of the shop, where muslin met silk, James Theodore Fennington could be seen in a dark brown jacket and bright white cravat crooning over two ladies, Lady Emily and Miss Jane Greenwell.

  Jared narrowed his gaze on the ladies. His nostrils flared at the sight of Fennington's beady eyes fixed on the creamy expanse of skin where a golden locket rested.

  Jared immediately excused himself from the ladies present and made his way past the rows of lace and silk, his long strides unwavering as he knocked down a bolt of blue brocade trim. He wondered how he should knock Fennington to the ground, with one fist or two. It seemed that Roderick had already broken through the swarm of ladies as well, but Jared was a yard ahead of him.