Anne’s blush deepened.
From under lowered lids, Cornelia watched the pair of them, thinking things were going very well, indeed. Two birds with one stone, she thought complacently. Two birds with one stone. Anne safe and placed right under Hugh’s nose....
Emily looked at her great-aunt through narrowed eyes, then back at Hugh and Anne. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear that while Cornelia had come up with an excellent solution, there was also an ulterior motive in her great-aunt’s scheme. Cornelia had more tricks up her sleeve, she reminded herself, than a family of foxes.
“I take it then,” Cornelia said, glancing around the room, “that no one has any objections to Hugh taking Anne to Parkham House as soon as we can arrange it?”
His face grim, Hugh said, “I am more than willing to lend my services. This scheme of theirs is despicable!” An angry flush crossed his face. “I’ve half a mind to call Jeffery out! Putting a bullet through the scoundrel would be a fitting end to him.”
“Under no circumstances are you to act so foolishly!” snapped Cornelia. “Aside from not wanting you to risk your life, we don’t want them to be aware that we know of their plans. Anne’s visit to your house will raise suspicions, but they won’t be certain that the visit isn’t the innocent trip it appears.” She glared at Hugh. “Getting yourself killed or wounded will do us no good.”
Hugh nodded, but his fist was clenched and he muttered, “That my brother would be so low and base . . .”
“But how are we to get Anne away?” Emily interrupted quickly, giving Hugh something else to think about other than challenging his brother to a duel. “She can hardly just walk out of here under Jeffery’s and Ainsworth’s noses. Jeffery will never allow it.”
“Of course, he wouldn’t,” Cornelia said testily. “Don’t intend for him to know until Anne is safely away.” She looked at Hugh. “Drove your phaeton, did you?”
“Precisely as you ordered.”
Cornelia gave him an approving look before saying, “Jeffery and Ainsworth have plans to ride to Newhaven tomorrow to look at a horse for sale that Jeffery likes—they’ll be gone until late evening. Long enough for us to have you on your way.” Her gaze fell upon Anne and she said, “Tonight, missy, you will pack what you need for a few days’ stay at Hugh’s house, but don’t pack more than one valise—a phaeton ain’t a coach. Once you are at Hugh’s, we can send your other things to you. Agatha will go with you, but I want her back when you’re safely installed.” She bent an inquiring eye on Hugh. “I assume you have servants enough to provide a lady’s maid for Anne during her visit?”
“I’m sure my mother will be able to suggest someone from the staff to serve Mrs. Townsend,” Hugh replied.
“If we’re lucky,” Cornelia said, “with Jeffery and Ainsworth gone most of tomorrow and unlikely to rise before noon the next day, they won’t know that Anne is gone until the day after tomorrow, hopefully late in the day. By then she’ll be safe.” Cornelia glanced around at the others. “Any questions? Objections?”
“What reason will we give for Anne’s departure?” Emily asked, frowning.
Cornelia smiled. “Hugh said it himself—Althea is lonely. Longs for the comfort and conversation of another female. Anne, being the kindhearted creature she is, upon hearing that Althea was pining for feminine company, offered her services. Not wanting to leave his mother alone for longer than necessary, Hugh insisted they leave immediately for Parkham House.”
“Thank you for that,” Hugh said dryly. “Blame it on me.”
“Your shoulders are broad enough,” Cornelia said, her eyes twinkling, “and you’ll enjoy shouting Jeffery down—assuming he is foolish enough to descend upon your doorstep and demand an explanation.”
Finding no flaws in the plan, Emily nodded. “It is a good solution. Jeffery can hardly argue against Anne’s actions and he certainly cannot object to her visiting his own mother.” She cast an anxious eye at Hugh. “You do know that you will have to take care that there is no opportunity for Jeffery or Ainsworth to snatch her from your house? Don’t let her wander about alone and never let her go anywhere by herself.”
Hugh sent Emily an offended look. “I am not a dunce! I’ll be on my guard. She’ll be safe enough at Parkham, but I wouldn’t put an attempted abduction past him—or that disreputable friend of his.” He glanced at Anne and smiled. “I will guard you well, my lady. You will have nothing to fear while you are in my care.”
“T-t-thank y-y-you,” Anne said, her heart full of gratitude. “You are very kind to go to all this trouble for someone who is almost a stranger.”
Hugh stared into her big pansy-brown eyes and something warm and powerful slid through him. His voice huskier than he realized, he said, “I’m sure that people find it very easy to be kind to you.”
Emily and Cornelia exchanged glances, Emily’s brow rising and Cornelia grinning. Very pleased with herself and the situation, Cornelia said, “It’s all settled then. As soon as Jeffery and Ainsworth are gone from the house tomorrow, you and Anne will leave for Parkham.”
The plan unfolded without any problems. Jeffery and Ainsworth didn’t leave as early as anyone would have liked, but once they had ridden off, keeping in mind that Bundy and Temple were upstairs in their masters’ rooms, Hugh’s phaeton was pulled discreetly to the side of the house and the valises were loaded. Minutes later, after several hugs and fond admonitions, Anne, Agatha and Barnett, Hugh’s circumspect valet, were settled in the phaeton and Hugh set his pair of grays off at a spanking pace.
The house felt very empty after their departure, but Emily was aware of a lifting of her spirits. Anne was safe. Jeffery was going to be furious, she admitted thoughtfully, and the next several days were going to be decidedly unpleasant, but the main thing was that Anne was beyond his reach. And for that she could put up with Jeffery’s rages and dark looks.
Her hand under Cornelia’s elbow, as they walked toward the green salon, Emily said, “Jeffery is going to be mad as fire.”
“I know,” Cornelia said, “but there is little he can do but bluster and sputter.” She eyed Emily. “If I’d thought you would go, I’d have sent you too.”
Astonished, Emily stared at her. “Me? Why?”
“Because denied their prey, their sights may turn on you,” Cornelia said wearily.
“That’s true,” Emily admitted. She smiled nastily. “But I am not Anne, and even if they were stupid enough to try such a thing, they’d not find me easily intimidated.” Her gray eyes fierce, she said, “No matter what Ainsworth did to me, I would never marry him! And I’d shout his perfidies from the village pulpit. Everyone would know him and Jeffery for the villains they are.”
Cornelia wouldn’t have expected any less from Emily, but it was obvious Emily hadn’t realized all the ramifications. Hadn’t stopped to think how much her life would change if Ainsworth were to succeed in destroying her reputation.
“I know, but don’t forget, you’d be ruined,” Cornelia said softly, her eyes on Emily’s face. The young were so confident, so certain they could overcome any obstacle, she thought heavily, but if Ainsworth was able to implement his wicked plan and Emily spurned marriage to him, she would face social ostracism and become a pariah, an outcast. Cornelia’s heart shook at the very idea of her lovely, spirited niece having to deal with the ugly rape she would endure if Ainsworth had the opportunity and then being denied the homes and the company of people she had known all her life. Oh, there would be those that would rally around her—Mrs. Gilbert, Jeb Brown and Caleb Gates to name a few. But once it was known that Emily had been seduced, willing or not, by Ainsworth, she would never again be invited or welcomed into the homes of those people who were her equal in station, Lord and Lady Broadfoot, Mrs. Featherstone and others. Emily’s ruination would make her prey to creatures like Kelsey, and Cornelia, always strong, nearly wept, at the lonely and shameful future her beloved niece might face if Ainsworth was to proceed with his wicked plan, only substitut
ing Emily for Anne. And he would be cruel, Cornelia acknowledged bitterly, cruel and vicious, punishing Emily for denying him Anne.
Not considering the bleak future that would be hers should the worst happen, Emily snorted. “As if I would care.”
Cornelia stopped and glared at her. “You should care!” she said angrily. “Stop and think how you will feel when you find you are no longer welcome in the vicar’s home, or when Mrs. Featherstone and Lady Broadfoot deny you entrance to their homes. How will you feel when people you have known and liked all your life cross the street to avoid meeting you? Or another Ainsworth accosts you or someone like that disgusting Kelsey. You haven’t thought, girl! If you fall into their hands, this won’t be something you can fix.”
Emily’s face went white and she swallowed hard. Cornelia painted a grim picture and Emily was conscious of the faintest quiver of fear. She fought it back and her chin lifted. “Then I’ll just have to make certain Ainsworth doesn’t get his hands on me, won’t I?”
It wasn’t precisely the answer Cornelia wanted, but at least Emily was thinking of the consequences and not thinking rape by Ainsworth would be something she could just brush off.
The two ladies spent a tense, uncomfortable day together. Neither one was much for conversation and when the invitation to visit Lord Joslyn late that afternoon was delivered via Walker, Emily would have turned it down, but before she could, Cornelia said, “Tell Lord Joslyn we would be most happy to visit with him.”
Walker departed and Emily shot her great-aunt a dark look and demanded, “Why did you accept? I am in no mood for polite chatter.”
Standing up and shaking out the skirts of her dove-gray gown, Cornelia said, “Neither am I, but it’ll be something to distract us.” She smiled at Emily. “I’ve always found that the company of a handsome man lifts me from the doldrums.”
The moment Emily entered his room, Barnaby knew that something was amiss. He studied the faces of the women, as Walker moved about serving tea and offering a plate of sliced currant cake. He was most aware of Emily’s demeanor, but even Cornelia seemed subdued. Knowing that Ainsworth intended to marry Anne and he strongly suspected, whether the lady was willing or not, Anne’s absence alarmed him.
He waited until everyone was served and Walker departed before he did any probing. The minute the door shut behind Walker, keeping a bland expression on his face, he inquired, “And where is the delightful young Mrs. Townsend? Hopefully, she is not indisposed?”
Cornelia smiled, though not, he decided with her usual roughish vigor. “You probably haven’t heard: Jeffery’s younger brother, Hugh, was here for a lightning visit. Arrived yesterday and has already departed for his home, Parkham House—less than a day’s ride from here. Took Anne with him to keep his mother company. Hugh is busy with his own affairs and his mother, who lives with him, is lonely.”
“Hugh was very sorry he didn’t have the opportunity to meet you,” chimed in Emily. Her face full of affection, she added, “You would like Hugh.” For a second amusement flickered in her eyes. “He is nothing like my cousin Jeffery.”
Barnaby laughed. “Actually, I did know about Hugh’s arrival. The servant grapevine is very efficient, but I hadn’t yet heard that he had left and that your stepmother had gone with him.” He hesitated, thinking of Ainsworth’s declaration. Something wasn’t adding up. Unable to help himself, he asked, “Ainsworth didn’t have a problem with her leaving at a time like this?”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean, ‘at a time like this’?”
“Why only that Ainsworth led me to believe that an engagement between them was imminent.”
So angry she forgot herself, Emily declared hotly, “That lying, yellow snake! Nothing could be further from the truth! Anne cannot abide him. In fact,” she said, “it was to escape Ainsworth’s odious attentions that she decided it would be prudent to leave The Birches for several weeks.”
Barnaby glanced at Cornelia, but she made no attempt to smooth over Emily’s outburst. Anne was safely away, but Cornelia had one more chick to protect—and if she had to lie down with the devil to do it, she would. She didn’t think Lord Joslyn was the devil—quite the opposite. Cornelia was a good judge of people and instinctively she trusted him. They needed help and having taken his measure during that first meeting and noted the way his gaze strayed to Emily, she decided that perhaps it was time for some plain speaking.
Bluntly she said, “Ainsworth will come into a great deal of money if he marries a respectable woman by the first of March. His reputation is such that few responsible parents or guardians would countenance a match between him and their daughters or wards. He has been hunting for months for a woman foolish enough to marry him. Time is running out for him and he is rather desperate to find a bride.”
“And Jeffery brings him here,” Barnaby drawled, “where he thinks he has, not one, but two likely prospects?”
Cornelia nodded, her face tight and grim.
Barnaby picked up the cup of tea they’d been served earlier and took a sip in order to give himself a moment to control the fury clawing at his breast. He was very good at deciphering what Cornelia had left unsaid. There was wicked mischief in the air and the one person who should have the care of the two women under his protection foremost in his mind was aiding Ainsworth. Now why would Jeffery . . . The answer came to him even as the thought formed. Money.
Setting down his cup in the saucer, he said, “Your Jeffery is an enterprising gentleman, isn’t he? Not only does he introduce a varlet like Ainsworth into a respectable household with two eligible young women, but he’s willing to accept Ainsworth’s money to ensure he has his bride. Rather like shooting fish in a barrel.” He raised a brow. “Do I have the correct reading?”
Again Cornelia nodded, delighted with his quick grasp of the situation . . . and the dangerous gleam in his black eyes.
Barnaby’s fingers formed a steeple, and looking at them he said to no one in particular, “With Anne . . . I trust you have no objections to my familiarity?”
“At this point, no,” said Cornelia. “In fact, I would prefer it. You may call me Cornelia, and you already know Emily’s given name.”
Barnaby showed that singularly attractive smile of his. “In that case, I insist that you call me Barnaby.” The smile became a grin. “I’ve been Barnaby Joslyn for far longer than I have been Lord Joslyn and I find myself a bit weary of ‘milord this’ and ‘milord that.’ ”
“Are all Americans like you?” Emily asked curiously, finding it astonishing that he would so easily discard his title and offer them such easy familiarity. She tried to picture Mathew Joslyn doing so, but she could not.
Barnaby shrugged. “Just as not all Englishmen are alike, the same is true of Americans. Believe me, we have our villains, too.” A scowl creased his forehead. “But none, I don’t think, as villainous as the pair of scoundrels you have underfoot.”
“I agree,” said Cornelia. “It would be hard to find their equal.”
Bending forward, Barnaby asked, “With Anne out of the way, is it your belief that they will turn their attention to Emily?”
“I cannot say for certain,” Cornelia admitted, “but even with Anne beyond his grasp, Ainsworth still needs a wife . . . and only Emily remains.”
Both Barnaby and Cornelia looked at her and Emily made a face. “Most likely Ainsworth will turn his attention onto me, but I am not Anne! I’m stronger and I’m certainly not easily intimidated nor very biddable or frightened.”
“You may be all of those things, but you would be no match for a determined man,” Barnaby said grimly. “Especially if he had you in a place where no one would hear your screams . . . or anyone who did would ignore them.”
Emily swallowed. “We don’t know that Ainsworth will settle for me.” Her lip curled. “He doesn’t like me very much and I’ve made my aversion to him plain.”
“As apparently has Anne, but that didn’t deter him, did it?” Barnaby growled, the very
thought of Ainsworth touching Emily arousing every protective and possessive instinct he possessed. I’ll kill him if he dares lay a finger on her, he admitted savagely. And enjoy doing it.
“So what are we to do?” Cornelia asked practically, her gaze fixed on Barnaby’s dark features.
Barnaby rose to his feet and stalked around the room, his lithe grace making Emily think of the big lion she’d seen in the royal menagerie in the Tower of London. He didn’t, she decided, look much like a man who had come so near death only a few days ago. The heavy black hair hid the wound site and there was no outward sign of debilitation. He exuded power and purpose and she was ashamed to admit she was grateful he was on their side.
He stopped and stood before Emily, that inescapable feeling of possession riding him hard. This woman was his, realizing with no little astonishment that he meant to marry her. And by God! He’d not leave her in danger. The expression in the dark eyes hidden, he said, “You are not safe here. You and your aunt must come with me to Windmere—I can protect you there, as I cannot here. Within Windmere’s stout walls you will have no fear that Ainsworth or your cousin will touch you.”
It wasn’t exactly what Cornelia wanted, but it would do, she decided thoughtfully. Certainly, their sudden removal to the home of the viscount would cause gossip and more than a little speculation, but it didn’t worry her. If she read the signs right—and she rather thought she did; she was, after all, a wise old bird who’d observed more than one moonstruck pair—it wouldn’t be many weeks before the engagement between Emily and Lord Joslyn was announced. It would do. Emily would be safe and Joslyn could do his wooing without interference. She half smiled. And Jeffery would be furious.
Barnaby glanced at Cornelia and breathed a sigh of relief at the slight nod of her head. Splendid! He had one ally now, he thought, turning his attention back to Emily. He just needed to convince the gray-eyed virago before him.
Rapture Becomes Her Page 17
