But then he asked himself why she had let him make love to her. He knew she was not like her mother, for she had been a virgin when he first took her, and even though she showed her delight in their lovemaking and was the most sensuous woman he had ever known, he knew that she was not wanton and that it was not only physical attraction that had brought her into his arms. All those afternoons at the brook had not been spent entirely in passion. They had spoken of many things—books, politics, history—and he had enjoyed following the convolutions of her quick mind as it advanced from one subject to another. It was certainly not what a man usually expected from his mistress, but he had enjoyed every moment of it, even the arguments they had about small points of fact where she would not agree he was right.
Suddenly his eyes brightened and he stood very still. What was there to prevent him from marrying her now? Surely as a Wyndham of Berks she was an acceptable if not outstanding candidate for the role of his duchess, and then he would be able to have her with him always. It would mean happiness he had never imagined he would enjoy as a husband. And someday, he mused, there will be another Emily, my little daughter. I hope she looks just like her mother, he thought, and then he frowned. He had forgotten her mother’s reputation. Did the Duke of Wrotherham have enough credit with the ton to live it down?
Suddenly he knew it did not matter in the slightest. Now he had the chance to have her always—not as a mistress tucked away in some little love nest awaiting his pleasure, but with him every day they would live. From waking in his arms, sitting across from him at table, entertaining his guests, or entering a ballroom on his arm, to attending a coronation with him, dressed in crimson and ermine, she would be with him, and what a superb Duchess of Wrotherham she would make!
He felt a surge of emotion that almost carried him up the stairs and into Lady Quentin’s room, but he controlled himself with an effort. No, he would wait. For Miss Emily Wyndham everything from now on would be done in correct order and with perfect politeness, for only that way could he show her how much he honored her. He would wait until this evening, and then he would ask her to meet him in the tiny garden and he would hear her story from her own lips before he proposed.
Hubert Andrews took his leave shortly after luncheon, much to the captain’s disgust. He could not be persuaded to remain overnight, not even when Alicia added her own entreaties, telling him how much good it had done Tony to see one of his old friends. The young peer looked around as if he were nervous when Lady Quentin strolled with him to the gate, but there was no sign of the duke, for he had had his horse saddled and was indulging in a strenuous ride to help pass the time until dark.
In Lady Quentin’s bedroom, Emily watched her nemesis depart, standing well back from the window so she would not be seen. She had a very good idea what Lord Andrews had told Charles, although she did not know how the duke had reacted; she had almost expected to be summoned by him to explain. Careful questioning of Greene revealed his absence. For a moment she felt some doubts. Was he angry with her? Was he upset to discover her true identity and her mother’s waywardness? She hoped that was not the case. They had had such a little time together, she and Charles, and now perhaps it was over and done with forever. But then she told herself there was no reason why he should not still want her to be his id mistress, not now when he knew about her mother’s reputation. She knew her own feelings had not changed. She would not let him support her, even though she loved him. There was enough left of Emily Wyndham’s character to recoil from such an arrangement, and she had planned to disappear quietly when they returned to London, changing her name again if she had to. She had not been able to resist him that first day at the brook, and now she was glad to have such wonderful memories to store up against the rest of what was sure to be a bleak single life of unremitting toil. But coming to him freely was one thing; allowing him to pay her bills, clothe her and feed her was another. What she gave to him, she gave without asking for return. It was the only way she could have done it at all.
Lady Quentin had told her to rest for the remainder of the day, but Emily could not lie still. For a while she paced the small bedroom, and then she took up a pile of mending to keep her hands busy. It was a very long afternoon.
When she had arranged Lady Quentin’s hair and seen her down to the parlor for dinner with her husband, she straightened the room and then prepared to go and have her own supper. As she opened the door, she came face to face with the duke, his hand raised as if he had been about to knock.
“My dear,” he said in a quiet voice, “I have only a moment, but I would appreciate it if you would join me in the garden after dinner. Shall we say at about nine? There is a great deal we have to discuss.”
Emily stared up into his face. It was serious, but there was a light in his eyes that showed her that he was not angry or upset. She heard Nicole clumping up the stairs to fetch the slops, and nodded her agreement, and the duke went down to join the Quentins.
At nine, she made her way out the back of the farmhouse and around to the garden. The duke was there before her, holding the flowers she had cut that morning, now wilted from the heat and her neglect, but he threw them away at her approach.
Without a word, he took her in his arms and kissed her, and Emily put her arms around him in return, glad that nothing had really changed. They had never dared to meet like this before, but she was not in the least afraid that they would be discovered.
“Sit down beside me on this bench, love,” the duke murmured when he raised his lips from hers at last. “I meant to bow to you, like any gentleman greeting a lady, but I could not resist kissing you. And now I think you owe me an explanation, Miss Wyndham. You are Miss Wyndham, are you not?”
Emily stared at him, feeling his warm strength, and she nodded. “Yes, Charles, that is my real name. If you have heard of my family, and especially my mother, you will understand why I had to change it, although Margaret is my middle name, and my mother was a Nelson before her marriage.”
“Perhaps I should tell you what Lord Andrews revealed, and then you can fill in the mysterious parts, which are sure to be more interesting to me,” the duke said, holding both her hands in his.
Emily sat in silence, her head slightly bowed, as he sketched for her the story he had been told, omitting all references to what Hubert Andrews had in mind for her. When his voice died away, she looked up into his eyes.
“That is all true, Charles. My mother is dead. She died of consumption three years ago. It was only then that I discovered by what means she had supported us all the years I was growing up. I found some letters, you see, the day of her funeral...” She paused for a moment and the duke’s mouth tightened. How terrible that must have been for her, so young and alone and still in shock. He pressed her hands and she continued, “My mother was almost penniless at her death, and there was nothing left to me but a small cottage. My uncle, Lord Wyndham, had been one of my mother’s lovers and his wife knew of it, so there was no help for me there. Indeed, I did not want his help in any case, but I could see there was no way I could survive without some work to do; and since I did not feel I could ever be Emily Wyndham again, the object of gossip and scorn, I decided to change my name and take up my present occupation. I had waited on my mother for several years after she could no longer afford a dresser—it seemed the easiest thing to do.”
She paused again, for the duke was frowning now. She did not know he was trying to imagine what that must have been like for a gently raised girl, used to being waited on herself, and although he had no real conception of it, he was sure it must have been difficult for her, and tiring, discouraging, and demeaning as well. And yet she had retained her poise and elegance. He could only guess at the strength it must have taken to remain so lovely and untouched by her ordeal.
“How old were you when your mother died, Mar—Emily?”
“Twenty-two. I was not a child, you see.”
He smiled for the first time and raised one of her hands to his li
ps to kiss. “Of course not! You were awake on every suit, I am sure.”
“Indeed I was not, Charles. I had had a very restricted childhood, with no friends or family, and when I think how naive and optimistic I was ... well!” Her green eyes darkened as she remembered the Marquess of Benterfield and the colonel. “If I had known then what I know now, I do not think I could have done it. But now I am used to the work, and Lady Quentin is not a bad mistress—”
“Lady Quentin, kind though she may be, must find another maid,” he said, letting go of her hands.
Emily wondered why she felt so much disappointment, when she had expected him to ask her to be his mistress still. If he had any doubts before, now, of course, he must be thinking “like mother, like daughter,” she thought drearily, and then she was startled to see him go down on one knee before her.
“Miss Wyndham ... my bewitching Lorelei ... I have the honor to ask you to be the next Duchess of Wrotherham, and what is more important, especially to me, my wife. Believe me when I tell you that I will love you and cherish you always.”
“Your wife?” she whispered.
“Of course. And that as soon as we can contrive it. Perhaps we should marry here at the embassy in Brussels and return to England as man and wife, unless you have a great fancy for white satin and Westminster Abbey, my love. However, I beg you not to delay, for I do not think I—’
“No, no,” she cried, pulling her hands from his and shrinking back on the bench as if she wanted to escape him.
The duke rose to his feet, a bewildered frown on his dark handsome face. “No? What do you mean, no? Do you deny you love me?” he asked, his voice demanding.
“Too much to marry you,” she said, glad that the pale light from the sliver of new moon made it impossible for him to see the tears in her eyes. “You cannot have thought, Charles. What, the mighty Duke of Wrotherham marry Althea Wyndham’s daughter? It is not to be considered. Why, there would be less consternation and gossip if you married Margaret Nelson, lady’s maid. I would not bring such shame to you as my only dowry.”
The duke had listened to her without interrupting, and now he took his seat again. His voice was quiet when he spoke, but there was a note of steel in it she had never heard there before.
“Emily Wyndham or Margaret Nelson ... it does not matter to me which one I wed. I do not care what the world says, nor shall you, for if I cannot have you as my wife, I see there will be no happiness in my future. I admit I thought of you only as my mistress before I learned your true identity, but now that I know your family and your background, there can be no impediment to our marriage, except for foolish pride. Foolish pride, my dear, that I do not intend to indulge in, nor let you do so either.”
“Listen to me, Charles! I will not marry you. Rather than that, I will even promise to be your mistress, and—”
“So you never intended to fill that role, eh? I thought as much; it was too much out of character. But why did you let me make love to you, then?”
Emily turned away, but the duke reached out and with strong fingers turned her chin so she was forced to stare into his eyes. He saw her tears and steeled his heart against them. “Well?” he asked. “I am waiting for your answer.”
“Because I loved you so,” she whispered. “I knew I could bear the rest of my life alone only if I could be close to you here. When our idyll ended, I was prepared to try and forget. I knew I could not bring myself to follow in my mother’s footsteps, but here at least we were free to love each other without thought of payment or shame.”
The duke bent toward her as if to kiss her, and she drew back. “No, Charles! You must believe I mean what I say.” Suddenly he rose to pace the path before her, and she watched him through swimming eyes.
“But you must marry me now, Miss Wyndham,” he said suddenly in a harsher, more formal voice. “I do not ruin ladies of your quality. Acquit me, please, of such boorish behavior. No, I was your first lover, and for someone of such exquisite sensibility as you have shown you possess, you must see that our marriage is as good as accomplished. Why, any true gentleman would do the same if he found out he had taken, even unwittingly, a lady of your standing in the world.”
“So, it was all right to seduce the maid, but Emily Wyndham is another matter?” she could not help asking.
“Of course. That is the way of the world, my dear,” he agreed. “Resign yourself to it and to our union as well. You have told me you love me, know that I will always love you. You’ll see, it will all work out for the best in the end, after you overcome these foolish scruples of yours. I honor you for them, but I will not let them stand in our way.”
Emily bowed her head. “I will promise you only that I will think about it,” she said at last, and the duke had to lean forward to catch her soft words.
“Do me the kindness to do so quickly,” he said. “For I have promised myself I will not touch you again until we are married. You are not the only one with foolish scruples, my dear. You do understand that you must not cross me in this or try to escape me with some notion of saving me from my folly, do you not? I would never rest until I found you, and there is no place for you to hide that I would not search you out. You will be my duchess!”
Emily swallowed as he continued, “How I wish you had consented tonight. I meant to tell the Quentins and perhaps have a small celebration. Instead, I find that you insist on remaining Miss Nelson some little time longer.”
“Oh, please do not tell them, promise me, Charles,” she begged. “I could not bear it.”
“Very well, although it goes against the grain with me to see my future wife engaged in such menial work. I sent Thomas into Brussels today to make all ready, for we will take coach tomorrow afternoon for the capital. Our stay in the country is over. When we are settled in town again, I expect to hear that in this instance you will comply with my wishes.” He waited until she nodded a little, and then he added, “I intend to see about a special license as soon as I reach town. You see, my dear, I cannot wait for you. Dukes are very often imperious and demanding, but you know you have only to command me, save for this, and I will obey you in everything. And now, if I am not to forget myself completely and take you in my arms again to show you how much I love you, I had better take my leave now. So much for vows of celibacy. Sleep well, Lorelei.”
He gave her his most elegant bow—as if I were a queen, she thought—and then he went away. Emily remained in the little garden for some time longer. She had not known it was possible to feel great elation and great sorrow, both at the same time. He loves me, she thought, he loves me enough to marry me in spite of whom I am, and her heart leapt even as the little voice in her head replied, “And you love him enough to be sure it will never happen, don’t you, dearie?” When the moon slipped behind a cloud, she went back into the farmhouse, sad but determined on the course she had set for her future.
8
Emily had every intention of confiding in Lady Quentin, for she knew she would need her help, but she found no opportunity of doing so until they were once again in Brussels. First there was the captain’s comfort on the journey to see to, and then the packing and the many interruptions of the other servants while they were thus engaged. In the carriage, of course, Captain Quentin sat beside his wife, so she could not speak there.
In Brussels, Emily was glad to have the help of Corporal Deems, who had attached himself to the captain as his new batman, and she was also glad to find that the cook and the maid had returned to the Quentins’ rented house as if they had never deserted it at all.
It was late the following morning before she could ask Lady Quentin for a private interview, and by that time her nerves were on edge, for she expected the duke to knock on the door at any moment and demand his answer.
She was bidden to enter the little drawing room with a smile, but it was not much longer before her mistress was frowning in distaste. Emily had not thought she would be so shocked and horrified, even to the point of drawing her skirts aw
ay as if Emily were somehow unclean, and she had never felt so ashamed in her life as when she saw Lady Quentin’s cold look of disgust for her wanton behavior, even though she had not told her everything about her adventures by any means. It was not like that, her heart cried out silently. It was not dirty and sordid and common! But, of course, she could not say that, and so, only stumbling a little in her tale, she concluded by saying, “You must see, m’lady, I cannot marry him. It would not be at all seemly.”
“Oh, no, it is not to be thought of,” Lady Quentin agreed, inadvertently stabbing Emily to the quick. “Oh, Nelly, er, I mean, Miss Wyndham, how could you be so ... so lewd! And to think I never guessed that you and the duke ... Oh, dear!”
“Please continue to call me Nelly, m’lady,” Emily said, swallowing hard and trying to keep the tears from falling down her flushed cheeks. “There is no Miss Wyndham anymore. But how can I convince the duke of that? You must see I have to leave here and escape him as soon as possible.”
“And I will help you, and so shall Tony. No matter how you have behaved, I cannot bring myself to abandon you when you have been so good to me, and so kind. But even if you did not wish to escape the duke, you do see that it would be impossible for me to keep you in my service. I am sorry that you must leave this way, but your immoral conduct gives me no other choice.”
“I understand, thank you, m’lady,” Emily murmured, lowering her eyes, her face now ashen. “But what shall I do? The duke has told me he will not take no for an answer.”
Lady Quentin knit her brows in thought. “First of all, you will need some money, but that is no problem, for the duke would not let me pay any expenses at Waterloo, so I have a large sum by me. Then you must have a passport and arrangements made for your passage home. We must think of another name for you as well, so I can write you a letter of reference. How else will you be able to get another position? And I am sure you have learned your lesson, Nelly, and you will not be so abandoned again, so I need not fear I am recommending a wanton. You are, after all, an excellent lady’s maid. But more of that later. You and I will go out and get the passport, and I hope that horrid man at the War Office will be more accommodating now that our troops were victorious at Waterloo. I will send Corporal Deems to secure you a place on the next barge and arrange your passage to England as well. What a shame you have that distinctive blond hair. It is the first thing the duke will ask about, and even with a different name you are much too lovely to travel unremarked.”
The Emerald Duchess Page 14
