Her Reluctant Groom (Groom Series, BOOK 2)

by Rose Gordon

  “No, I’m not. After my accident there was some soreness and swelling.” He grimaced. “You don’t really need all the details. The physician was rather certain I’d not be able to reproduce.”

  Emma’s cold hands suddenly grabbed his and pried them off her face. “You liar!” she spat. Tears coursed down her cheeks and a sob wracked her body. “You don’t want to marry me and you’re using this as an excuse. Be honest, Marcus. Just tell me you don’t want me. Tell me my morals are too loose for you and your ilk. Just tell me the truth!”

  “I do want you.”

  She shook her head. “No, you don’t. If you did, you’d marry me. But instead, you’re making up some excuse.”

  “No, I’m not.” Marcus fisted his hands at his side. He did want her. But he also wanted her to be happy, and he knew she could never be fully happy with him. She might pretend otherwise, but he knew just like all other women, she craved motherhood. “Emma, be rational. You know I want you. But you’ll not be happy here.”

  “Yes, I will,” she countered. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re lying.”

  “About what?” What could she possibly think he was lying about?

  “Your inability to have children,” she said plainly. “You think I’m so naïve I’ll not question something like that. But you’re wrong. I know more than you give me credit for.”

  “And what would that be?” Exactly what did she think she knew about his body better than he did?

  “Your male anatomy is perfectly functional,” she said flippantly. “You just think I’ll not question what you say.”

  “What has that to do with anything?”

  “I know your…your…” She waved a hand in the direction of his waist— “works quite adequately, if the other day is anything to judge by.”

  He blinked at her.

  “I may not be as educated on the subject as Alex or Caroline, but I know enough to know the basics of how babies come about, and to be quite frank, your wedding tackle seemed to be in working condition the other day.”

  Marcus sighed. “Yes, that’s correct. But there’s more to a man’s part in procreation than his member.” He swallowed and tried to push past his embarrassment of talking so candidly about such a private part of his anatomy. “And while I admit that part does work as it should, the rest does not.”

  She stared at him for a minute. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “But that’s the way of it.”

  “No, it’s not the way of it. You’re just making up excuses and hoping I’m too dull-witted to know the difference.”

  “That’s not it at all. I’ve been told by three different physicians the trauma I sustained makes it impossible to have children.”

  “And yet you stiffen right up at a second’s notice,” she retorted, doubt filling her voice.

  “As I said earlier, the two matters are unrelated. While I’m grateful I was not completely unmanned, I was still injured.”

  “I don’t see how. Nor do I understand why you’d lie to me about this.”

  Marcus ground his teeth. “It’s difficult to explain.”

  “Try.”

  “No,” he snapped. “If you’re so curious, ask Caroline. I’m sure she’s a never-ending stream of information on the topic.”

  “I don’t want to ask Caroline,” Emma said, her gaze boring into him. “I asked you. Now answer.”

  “I already have. Now, enough on that. Let’s speak of your Season. I’ve made arrangements with Alex for you to stay with them so you don’t have to go back to Hampton and Louise.”

  “You what? When? Why?”

  “The other day when I went out.”

  “That’s where you went?” she asked, a sob caught in her throat, making her voice crack mid-sentence.

  Nodding, Marcus moved his hands to her shoulders. “Yes. I spoke to Alex to arrange for him to act as your sponsor for the Season.”

  “My sponsor?” she repeated sharply. “I don’t need a sponsor. I am seven-and-twenty, Marcus. I can do as I please.”

  “I know that. But I know you don’t have any other option but to stay with them, and this way it’ll be seen as a favor to me, not as you asking to stay with them again.”

  “I don’t believe it.” She shook loose from his grasp. “You really intend to send me away.”

  He nodded solemnly.

  “But why?” she burst out.

  “I’ve already told you.”

  “I don’t care about that, Marcus,” she cried. “Even if it’s true and you cannot father children, I don’t care. I love you.”

  That was the crux of it. She might love him today, but how would she feel month after month, year after year when the cold reality finally sank in for her and she realized it would always just be the two of them? Would her love change to resentment when she finally understood? Would she seek out a lover to console her, or worse yet, in hopes of producing a child with him? The possibilities were limitless and painful just to think of. “I know you love me,” he said at last, his voice ragged and raw with emotion. “And I love you, too. That’s why you need to go. I want you to be happy, and you’re not going to find that happiness with me.”

  “You’re wrong. I’ll be content just to be your wife.”

  “Exactly. Content. Not happy—content. I want you happy.”

  “And I will be, if you’ll stop behaving this way and accept that I love you.”

  Marcus flickered a glance outside to where his carriage was waiting. “No, you won’t. I know right now you don’t see it, but one day you’ll be glad you didn’t marry me. I expect that time will come shortly after you hold your child in your arms for the first time.” He smiled thinly at her and tore his gaze away as she shook her head and swiped at her tears.

  “Why are you being so cruel to me? You’ve never acted this way before. Never. Is this because of Louise?”

  “No,” he said bitterly. “This has nothing to do with her. This is about you, Emma.”

  She crossed her arms and stared at him in a way that made him feel like the biggest cad in England.

  A moment passed with only the sounds of his pounding heart and her quiet sobs breaking the silence. “Did you intend to send me away now?” she asked, catching sight of the carriage through the window.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re heartless,” she said with a bitter laugh.

  “No, I’m not. I have a heart just like yours. It beats just like yours. It loves just like yours. And just now it’s breaking, just like yours.”

  “I don’t believe it,” she whispered. “You couldn’t possibly possess a heart if you think by sending me away, you’re showing me you love me.”

  “Oh, but I do. I love you that much. Now go.”

  She shook her head and crossed her arms. “No. We’re not finished here.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  “No, we’re not. I’m not satisfied.”

  He snorted. “Arguing about it any longer isn’t suddenly going to make you satisfied, either. The fact remains, I refuse to marry you. And nothing you can do or say will change that.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I do, too.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re just uncertain, that’s all. You were afraid I’d reject you because of your secret, and now that you’ve told me and I still want to marry you, you’re scared.”

  He snorted at her ridiculous reasoning. “That’s not the least bit true. I meant what I told you earlier. If I were able to give you children, I’d marry you tomorrow. But I can’t, and I won’t make you suffer because of it.”

  “Tell yourself what you wish. Your lies won’t work with me. I don’t care what our future would be like. As long as I’m with you, I’ll be happy.”

  “I don’t think so,” he said sadly after a brief pause. “And even if you were able to feign happiness well enough, I’d never be happy knowing I’d made you give up the life you could have had. Just
go, Emma. Caroline’s expecting you.”

  “Make me.” She put her hands on her hips and stared at him with a look of absolute defiance.

  Marcus nearly smiled. That was the Emma he remembered. The headstrong and stubborn one. The one full of determination. Only this time, all her determined energy was being channeled at a battle she had no chance of winning. He wasn’t going to budge. Wrapping one arm around her shoulders and the other around her legs, he swooped her up and limped straight out the door.

  “Put me down,” she protested, kicking her feet wildly.

  “No. Now be still before I drop you.”

  She kicked her feet more violently.

  Marcus scowled at her. “I’m serious. Stop kicking.”

  “No.” Now she was not only kicking, she was wiggling and squirming.

  Grinding his teeth, Marcus set her down as soon as he stepped outside.

  “You’re impossible,” he said with a huff.

  “No. You’re impossible.”

  “No. I’m realistic. There’s a difference. Now, get in the carriage and go to Caroline.”

  Emma wiped her eyes and sniffled once more before clearing her throat. “Marcus,” she began brokenly. “I love you. I always have. I never dreamt you’d return my love and I even accepted that you were going to marry my sister, but now to know you love me, too, and you’re willing to give it all away hurts far more than if you’d never loved me at all.” She cleared her throat, and when she spoke again, her tone was much firmer and clearer, almost cold and distant. “I understand your hesitancy. I really do. But I love you, Marcus, and part of loving someone is accepting them exactly how they are. I’ve never cared about the scars, and I don’t care if we’re not able to have children together. That’s not why I love you. I love you because of who you are. But right now, I don’t recognize you.

  “I’ve never seen this side of you before, and I don’t care to again. I’ll go to Caroline’s and give you some time to regain control of your brain. Don’t make me wait forever, because I won’t.” Her last words felt equivalent to the hard punch in the gut he’d received from one of the older boys at Eton, when he’d thoughtlessly accused him of cheating at cards.

  Marcus tried not to blink his stinging eyes as he helped her climb up into the carriage. This would likely be the last time he’d ever see her, and he didn’t want to miss one second. Once she was in, he leaned his head in. “I’ll have your things sent,” he said quietly, sweeping imaginary dirt out the door of the carriage.

  He glanced up and quickly shifted his eyes back to the floor. The hurt in her eyes was more than he could bear. Then with one final glance in her direction, he whispered, “Goodbye, Emma,” then slammed the carriage door shut and rapped on the roof.

  Standing motionless as the carriage drove away, getting smaller and smaller with each passing second, Marcus realized what true pain was about. It wasn’t being dragged a quarter mile behind a horse; it was watching the one you loved above all others roll away from you forever.

  Chapter 18

  He didn’t come.

  Emma waited for him, and he never came.

  She hadn’t expected him to repeat the same foolishness he’d shown with Louise and try to chase her down only five minutes later. But she had expected him to realize his mistake and come to Watson Estate. But he didn’t.

  She’d waited up for him that entire first night. Then the next. And the next. And the next. Until finally, she couldn’t wait any longer. Or, until Caroline wouldn’t let her wait any longer, to be exact.

  After two weeks, Caroline had insisted Emma go to London for the start of the Season to start looking for gentlemen who’d make her a good match. But she didn’t want to make a match and get married. Not with any of the London gentlemen, anyway. She still wanted Marcus, and she was certain he’d come around, if only she waited a little longer. She tried to stall going to London by using her age as an excuse. Caroline wouldn’t have it though.

  “Your age won’t be a problem,” Caroline assured her, pinning a brooch on her dress. “Marcus dowered you so well it wouldn’t matter if you were two-and-seventy instead of seven-and-twenty.”

  Bile rose in her throat. He was willing to pay a stranger forty thousand pounds just to have done with her. It was sickening. “Why are you so excited to go to London, anyhow? Last year you couldn’t even dance.”

  Caroline’s blue eyes met Emma’s. “I’m going to let that pass.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it how it sounded.”

  “I know. But since you brought it up, I’ll tell you. Alex taught me to waltz!”

  “Alex? As in Arid Alex? As in Lord Watson?”

  Caroline nodded. “Yes! The very one. And despite what you and everyone else thinks, he’s not arid. He’s a lot of fun. Besides, he’s my husband.”

  “And that’s why you think he’s fun. You love him.”

  “I suppose,” Caroline agreed. “But I thought he was fun even before I loved him.”

  Emma snorted. “No you didn’t. You were angry at him for tossing you out of that biological society he runs when you fell in love with him.”

  “And your point?”

  “My point is you fell in love with him long before you really got to know him. Don’t you dare cut me off. I was there that night. I saw the way you looked at him when you walked into the drawing room. A little drawing room chitchat does not make someone fun, and yet I could tell you were already in love with him.”

  Caroline shrugged. “Does it really matter? Wait, I understand now. We’re not talking about me and Alex at all, are we?” She came to sit beside Emma and wrapped her arm around her. “I never thought of it that way before. Marcus is your Alex, isn’t he?”

  Emma nodded. Caroline was a smart woman. She was probably the only person in the world who understood that to Emma, Marcus was the same as Alex was to Caroline. Both men were usually only seen at a basic, superficial glance. Alex was considered boring and arid due to his unusual interest in science and nearly pristine reputation, and Marcus was seen only for his scars and former folly. But just as Caroline was able to see past Alex’s awkward exterior to find the man who lurked beneath, Emma was able to do the same with Marcus. She didn’t care about his past or the scars that marred his body; she didn’t even care about his inability to have children. When she looked at him, all she saw was him. The sweet and caring man she loved. The same one who apparently didn’t return her love.

  “Caro,” Alex said, coming into the room. “We need to be going.”

  “We’ll be right down.”

  Alex nodded and left. “Could I just stay here?” Emma suggested weakly.

  “I don’t think so,” Caroline said, shaking her head wildly to emphasize her answer. “I know you may not believe this, but I’ve overheard Marcus blister Olivia’s ears a time or two, and I have no desire to take her place. You’re going.”

  Emma smiled thinly. She, too, had overheard Marcus rail at Olivia for something foolish. She certainly understood Caroline’s hesitancy to go against his wishes and leave her behind at Watson Estate when he’d practically demanded they take her to London to shop for a husband.

  * * *

  Two miserable days later Emma found herself looking around the ballroom at the massive crush. She fought the urge to run far, far away. Tonight, Caroline had dragged her to a ball given by the Duke and Duchess of Gateway. Emma had met them the year before at Caroline’s wedding. They were some relation to Alex, however, knowing this did nothing to settle her nerves.

  She hated ballrooms before, and now with her excessive dowry, she hated them even more. Before her parents had died, they’d insisted she come to London for a Season, but her heart wasn’t in it. It was back in Dorset—with Marcus. Now, more than ten years later—three uneventful Seasons followed by another seven missed (but not sadly so) Seasons—she was right back where she didn’t want to be: having another Season. When she was younger, she’d just acted disinterested in the gentlemen. N
ot cold or rude, mind you. Just disinterested. That, coupled with her pitiful dowry, had kept them exactly where she wanted: in someone else’s drawing room.

  But now it was different. Now she had a dowry and gentlemen were continuously asking her to dance, often while she was still on the arm of another gentleman. Several tried to get her to go off alone with them into the gardens, and a few had been so bold as to offer a marriage proposal during a waltz. It was humiliating and disgusting, and she wanted nothing more of it. It was time to do something to force Marcus’ hand.

  Since she wasn’t dancing at present—not for lack of being asked, but because she’d sent her partner off to the refreshment room yet again—she peered around the room in hopes of finding the perfect man for her task. She needed one who had a reputation so dark even Marcus would have heard of him.

  She didn’t see a man who would fit her purposes right off, so she decided she’d excuse herself from the knot of gentlemen who’d surrounded her and stand with Caroline and Alex until she spotted a good candidate. Even if Alex and Caroline could barely go five minutes without talking of science, which was preferable to the torture she was currently enduring. Besides, it was easier to ignore them and let her eyes search the ballroom than it was to be whirled around the room and proposed to while trying to locate the most rakish, scandalous, and unsavory man in existence.

  “May I have this dance?” a familiar voice asked when she was halfway to Caroline.

  “Drake,” she said, turning around and flashing a smile at him. “Fancy seeing you here.”

  He chuckled. “That is a sentence I never thought I’d hear escape your lips.”

  She smiled thinly. “I’m trying.”

  “I know. Is your dance card full?”

  She blinked at him. Though she was stunned to see him at a ball, she was more stunned he’d asked her to dance. She’d never seen him dance with anyone but the late Lady Drakely, and the look in his eyes suggested he’d like to keep it that way. “Sadly, yes, my card is full.”

  His face softened remarkably. “Would you be too terribly disappointed to miss the next waltz or two to walk with me?”