"Not yet," said Emily brightly. Elsie shook her head.
"James, tell me you intend to behave honourably. Tell me you do not intend to go to Gretna Green."
"Would you think so much less of me if we did, Mother? We are in love, after all."
"It does not sit well with me." Elsie shook her head sadly. "Good gracious! Is it too much to ask for one of my sons to settle down without causing a scandal?"
"William has done well enough in that regard," said James reasonably. Elsie narrowed her eyes.
"Do you think I was born yesterday, James Marsden? The speed of his marriage did not escape me. Neither does Celia's condition. And here I am, imagining I raised my boys to be gentlemen!"
"James is the perfect gentleman," said Emily soothingly. "He has been the soul of honour and discretion since the moment I met him. Please, do not trouble yourself on that account."
"The soul of honour!" Elsie repeated, giving James a loving tap on the arm. "Did you hear that, my wayward son? What dreadful lies have you been telling this poor young woman!"
James laughed and took Emily's hand in his. "I am a changed man, Mother."
"Long may it last!" Elsie kissed her son on the cheek. "Now, James, you are a poor host to keep Lady Emily standing about in the hall like this. Come into the drawing room, my dear, and let me ring for some tea. You must be exhausted after your journey."
Emily had to admit that she was tired. The journey from London had taken a heavy toll, physically and emotionally. She wanted nothing more than to sink into a comfortable bed and close her eyes. Preferably with her head resting on James's strong shoulder.
All the same, she had not planned to rest on arriving at Westbourne Hall, and for good reason. Every moment they stayed in Larksley was another moment they were in danger. It was imperative that they left for Gretna Green before her father discovered where she had gone and came after her.
Now that Elsie had made it clear she would never approve an elopement, they'd have to sneak away without her knowing. It was another deception to add to Emily's growing pile, and it made her heart sink. Was her married life really to begin under such a shadow?
Perhaps a few hours of rest would not do so much harm. It would give her the opportunity to get to know James's mother, which she very much desired to do. Emily let Elsie lead her into the drawing room, prop her up on the sofa with pillows, and fuss over her in an endearing motherly fashion. She was so much warmer than Emily's own mother, who always thought of propriety first, comfort second!
Emily remembered the little James had told her about life with his father. She could not imagine this sweet, cheerful lady under the thumb of an oppressive addict.
James joined them for tea, but he was restless and unsettled. He kept getting up to pace about the room, shooting Emily meaningful looks. She knew he was just as desperate to leave as she was.
"Patience, my love," she whispered to him as he strode anxiously by. "No-one can possibly know I'm here. We are safe for the time being. We may even spend the night in Larksley in perfect ease."
James squeezed her hand briefly and dropped it. He seemed satisfied.
Emily would later come to regret the ease with which she had persuaded him. If they had left immediately, everything would have been very different.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Elsie adjusted Emily's cloak against the cold. The gesture, already so loving, brought a smile to Emily's tired face.
"I'm sure William and Celia will be at home," said Elsie. "Celia is with child, you see, and she doesn't get out and about much. They are a pair of homebirds, and very happy too. I'm sure they'll be delighted to meet you."
"I am already acquainted with Lady Celia," said Emily. "We grew up in such different parts of the country that we never became great friends, but I am very pleased to see her again." For more reasons than one. After all, if Lady Celia Hartley, daughter of the Marquess of Lilistone, could marry a Mr William Marsden, why should Emily not have James? She wondered for a moment what circumstances had led the notoriously proud Hartley family to agree to the match. Doubtless, it had been for love. She envied Celia's happiness. It was everything she wanted for herself.
James thought it prudent not to flaunt the Albemarle livery about Larksley village, so they left Emily's carriage in the coach house and took the Duke of Westbourne's country landau along the pretty lane into Larksley. Though rain was still pouring, Emily's eyes were glued to the countryside rolling by outside the window. Larksley would very likely become her new home, and she wanted to become familiar with it as quickly as possible. James held her hand and offered her titbits of information about the various farms and houses they passed on their way, while Elsie watched them fondly.
They were just turning onto the main road into Larksley, when they encountered a huge black carriage coming in the opposite direction. Emily let out a cry of dismay.
It belonged to her father.
The other carriage wheeled around to the side, blocking the road. Elsie's driver, confused, called out angrily for them to get out of the way.
Three liveried footmen piled out of the carriage, followed by an all-too-familiar figure. Jacob.
He covered the distance between the carriages in two angry strides and wrenched open the door. Emily refused to scream, though hot terror coursed through her veins. When Jacob's eyes fixed on her they blazed with angry triumph.
"Get. Out." She had never heard him speak so coldly. It was as though another man, a cruel and unforgiving one, inhabited his throat.
"I will not," she said, hoping her voice was not really as shaky as it felt. "Kindly move your carriage aside."
"You foolish girl," said Jacob. "Don't you see how serious this is? If word of this gets out –"
"Don't speak to her that way!" James snapped. He pushed Jacob in front of him as he got out of the carriage. Jacob pushed back, sending James staggering.
"Curse you, Marsden!" he snarled. "You were supposed to be my friend! Look what you've done, you blackguard! You ought to be hanged for this!"
"Don't hurt him!" Emily shrieked. "Don't fight! Stop it!" Elsie tried to restrain her, but she would not be dissuaded from jumping out onto the soft country loam with the gentlemen. "Jacob," she said, trying to soothe him, "you will soon see that James has done nothing wrong. See, his mother is in the carriage to chaperone me. Nothing is amiss."
"You stole one of father's carriages and ran away from home to ask a rakehell to take you to Gretna Green," spat Jacob. "And you have the gall to stand there and tell me nothing is amiss?"
Emily laughed lightly. "But we were not intending to go to Gretna Green," she lied. "Whatever gave you that impression?"
"Marsden's own brother," said Jacob. Emily paled.
"You – you spoke to the Duke?"
"Our own father was forced to speak to him when you left, to discover what passed between you last night. Only think what that cost him, Emily. You know he cannot stand to be near Westbourne anymore."
"Through no fault of my brother's," said James hotly.
"Do you deny it?" asked Jacob, rounding on him with fists clenched and ready. "Do you deny that you intended to elope with my sister?"
James was silent.
Jacob's anger deflated. It was as if he had been hoping, all along, that it was all a silly misunderstanding. Now there was no more denying it. His sister and his dear friend had been caught in the act of running away together.
"How could you do this?" he asked, looking from James to Emily in despair. "How could you betray us all like this?"
Emily touched his arm. "Jacob, speak to father. You never know – now that this has happened, maybe he'll agree –"
"Don't be a child," Jacob snapped. "There's no question of you marrying a Marsden. There never was. Get into my carriage, Em. Don't make me force you."
The three footmen lined up in formation behind him. Emily stole a look back at James. Even despite the overwhelming odds, she could see he was spoiling for a fight.
"I'll go with you," she said quickly. Anything to save James from a beating. Sighing with relief, Jacob held out his arm to her. He guided her inexpertly along the muddy ground.
"Elsie," Emily called, remembering James's mother. "Elsie, I'm so sorry –"
If Elsie replied, she didn't hear it.
James's agonised eyes followed her as she set her foot on the step up to the carriage. She couldn't bear to look at him, much less bid him goodbye.
"Is Papa inside?" she whispered to Jacob, eyeing the darkness inside the carriage nervously.
"He is elsewhere," came the taut reply. "Fixing the sorry mess you have made."
A heavy weight settled in the bottom of Emily's stomach. She didn't like the sound of that. At the last moment, the carriage yawning open like the mouth of a vicious beast, she twisted away. "James – James, I can't –"
But Jacob caught her firmly by the arms and, with a relentless strength that was still, in some heart-breaking way, tender, he forced her inside.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
James made his return to London only a few short days after leaving it. He had an idea of how his arrival might be received, so he made an expedient stop at a flower shop before heading to Amberley House. He knew his sister-in-law adored yellow flowers. They reminded her of springtime. An armful of yellow roses, then, would see him welcomed back into the bosom of his brother's home without too many protests.
For he needed Harry now more than ever. If he was to win over Emily's father, particularly in light of present circumstances, he would need all the power of the dukedom behind him.
Catherine's stern expression told him all he needed to know the moment he entered her private suite. She had already been informed of his escapades.
"What's this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the glorious blooms in his hand. James held them towards her with a florid bow.
"An apology," he said, "for any trouble I may have caused you."
Catherine inhaled the roses' fragrance. "They're heavenly, James. But it isn't me you need to apologise to."
"Call it an entreaty, then. For you to intercede with my brother on my behalf."
"Intercede in what manner?" she asked suspiciously. James gave a rueful grimace.
"I rather fear he means to find a lengthy stick of willow and beat some sense into me."
"It would be all you deserve," came a rumble of disapproval from the doorway. James straightened, adjusted his cravat, and turned.
Harry was blocking out the light, arms folded and face dark. "My library," he said. "Now."
James was relieved to note that the taut line of Harry's mouth softened a little as he noticed Catherine's flowers. He gave no other outward appearance of mollification.
In the library, James found Harry had called for backup in the form of his friend Captain Kirby. He wouldn't have been James's first choice to discuss a love affair. Kirby was a Captain of the militia, experienced and heavy-handed in his dealings with criminals and fellow officers alike, but his personal life was...how to put it delicately? James hid a grin, remembering some of the stories he'd heard. Kirby lived a notoriously wild life. Now that James had fallen, Kirby remained the last confirmed bachelor among Harry's friends.
"Sit," said Harry, pointing to a chair. He and Kirby remained standing. James felt like a naughty schoolchild called to the headmaster's office. He sat, resenting it.
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "I will begin by telling you the matter as I understand it. You will have your chance to speak later, though I cannot imagine that you have anything to say that might change my view of the situation." He glanced at Kirby, who nodded. "Shall I begin?"
"I'm dying to know what you make of it all," said James sarcastically. He assumed a deliberately casual pose, lounging over Harry's chair as if he were half-drunk at White's.
Harry spoke slowly and deliberately, punctuating his speech with the thump of one heavy fist into the meat of his palm. "You have seduced a young lady of otherwise impeccable reputation. You have given her the impression that her feelings for you were returned. You left her in London without a word to explain your absence. In her despair, she formulated the ridiculous plan of hunting you down and persuading you to take her to Gretna Green." Harry raised his hands to the sky. "For goodness' sake, James, tell me I'm wrong."
"You are correct in every particular," said James calmly, "apart from the most salient one. Emily was correct to think that her feelings were mutual. I am in love with her, as she is with me, and I intend to make her my wife at the earliest possible opportunity. I don't care a fig how far she is above my station. I must and will have her."
Harry gaped. "You cannot be serious."
"I would not dare to joke about so serious a matter. Emily is everything to me."
"But you have always been so outspoken in your total disdain for the institution of marriage!"
"That was before I met Emily." James crossed and uncrossed his legs, stretching luxuriously. Despite the urgency of the situation, he was rather enjoying himself. He liked nothing better than to cause a stir.
"And did I not hear you say, on the occasion of my own marriage, that you yourself would never submit to such a prison of every man's freedom?"
"I did say that," James admitted. "But what I meant was that I could not then picture the lady whose love would not feel like a prison."
"And when you swore that we would see you dead before we saw you married?"
"Well, I meant that I thought I would die before finding true love!"
"You have an answer for everything," said Harry, finally giving in to laughter. "But Kirby here is my witness – you and he were ever of the same opinion! At least I can rely on Kirby as a man of his word. There is a man who will be forever a bachelor."
Kirby gave an oddly twisted smile. "Well, you have no title, true, and only your brother's fortune to recommend you – but any lady with feelings of substance will not let that stand in her way. Surely, Westbourne, you'll see them well-provided-for?"
James realised that Kirby had no idea of the true extent of the difference between Emily and himself. He could not contain a groan of despair as he explained. "Oh, but you have not heard the whole of it. When I said that the lady was far above my station, I hardly did justice to my predicament. She is the daughter of the Duke of Rawly –"
"And what if she is? You are a Duke's brother," said Harry reasonably.
"And he intends for her to marry his closest friend, the Marquess of Chiltern. She is to be a Marchioness. What can Mr James Marsden offer her in comparison to that?" The reality of his predicament hit him then as it never had before. It felt as though a huge stone wall stood between himself and Emily, forcing them apart forever.
To his amazement, Kirby laid a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "If you love her, and if she loves you, you are offering her far more than most people can dream of. Go to her, make your feelings known, and be happy."
"That's the advice of the notorious Captain Kirby?" asked James with a half-smile. "I had hoped you would instruct me to drown my sorrows with drink and women of questionable virtue. Now I see you are as changed a man as I am! Pray, who is the lucky lady? And when may I wish you joy?"
"You do not seem so lovesick that you have forgotten how to be impudent," said Kirby sternly. James was jolted back into seriousness.
"She already knows my feelings. It is her family who will make the objection. They want her to marry a man of substance. A man with a title to bestow on his wife. Who am I, compared to a Marquess? But I cannot make myself give up all hope. Harry, I beg you – come with me to speak to the Duke of Rawly. Your presence may make all the difference."
"I will help you," said Harry. "How could I not? I do, however, have one condition."
"Anything!"
"That if your suit is denied, you will give her up. You will not, under any circumstances, attempt another elopement."
"But if her father is unreasonable –"
"Then you would do better to accept it than condemn Emily to a life of insecurity and estrangement from those who love her most." Harry placed his hands on James's shoulders and forced him to meet his eyes. "Here and now, I am Duke of Westbourne, and I will always care for you and protect you. But life is a precious, precarious thing. I only have the privilege of supporting you thanks to the untimely death of our cousin. Our own aunt, who once was Duchess of Westbourne, is now entirely dependent on my charity to survive. If you marry Emily without first arranging her jointure, you will leave her vulnerable to a life of poverty. We both know how difficult such a life can be."
James hung his head. "You are right," he said. "I would never put Emily in such a position. Indeed, eloping was her idea to begin with. You have my word that we will not attempt it again."
"Very well," said Harry. "Let's give the old Duke a day to cool off, and visit him promptly tomorrow morning. I'll see if I can get Cathy in on the scheme. I make a passable Duke, as you know, but she is a stunning Duchess. This is not a case where too many cooks are likely to spoil a broth. The more strength behind your proposal, the better, I say."
"Tomorrow?" asked James. Harry might as well have suggested a century.
Harry clapped him on the shoulder, laughing heartily. "My poor, love-sick brother! Who could ever have predicted this?"
James supposed he deserved it, but he could not stand to hear Harry's mirth a moment longer. He stood up stiffly and took himself out into the gardens, where the cheerful sunlight and the scent of roses made equal mockery of his anguish.
Perhaps one more day was really all it would take. In that case, he would wait. Hang it all, he'd wait for Emily forever.
James strove to quell his troubled soul and looked forward to the prospect of the morrow.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The following morning found James in such high hopes that he even managed to exchange a few teases with Alice Sharp before he left to see the Duke of Rawly.
Let the Lady Decide Page 15
