Rapture Becomes Her

by Shirlee Busbee

  Emily couldn’t argue with that but she asked somberly, “Is he dead?”

  Barnaby hesitated. He’d gone into the barn certain that if Lamb had not killed Jeffery that he would. “Will you be disappointed if I tell you we left him alive and feeling sorry for himself?”

  Emily sighed and Barnaby felt the tenseness leave her body as she leaned more fully against him. “No,” she admitted. “He is a pitiful creature and I loathe him, but I do not want him dead . . . at least not by your hand.”

  Barnaby dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Then it’s a good thing we left him alive, isn’t it? Besides, he serves a purpose—we left the disposal of Ainsworth’s body to him.”

  Emily caught her breath, all of tonight’s events flooding over her. Full of remorse, she said in trembling tones, “I’ve made a terrible mess of everything, haven’t I? Everything that Cornelia feared would happen happened and I’ve brought shame and disgrace on her . . . and put you in an invidious position.” Head down, she muttered, “I shall say that I killed him. No one needs to know that you and Lamb were even here.”

  Barnaby’s arm tightened around her slender waist. “You have it half right, sweetheart. No one knows that any of us were here tonight.”

  She laughed bitterly. “And how do you explain my unexpected disappearance? And my return with you and Lamb?”

  “You, my misguided darling, remembering one last thing you wanted to tell Jeb, hurried after him before he was out of sight. You took a shortcut through the woods, hoping to overtake him before he reached the main road.”

  “That’s the most ridiculous tale I’ve ever heard,” she said acidly. Curiosity had her asking though, “How do you explain my torn gown and why I was gone so long?”

  “In the gathering darkness you fell, ripping your gown and twisting your ankle, which made it difficult for you to walk back to the house. Lamb and I, having set out in a gallant search for you, found you seated on a downed tree.” He ended cheerfully, “And now we’re bringing you home.” When she remained silent, he added, “I think the twisted ankle is a nice touch, don’t you? Of course, you’ll have to limp for a few days but overall . . .”

  “It might do,” she said after a thoughtful pause. “Jeffery isn’t going to want to reveal his part in what happened tonight. . . .” She tapped her lower lip with a finger. “Walker and the other servants will know otherwise, but they will say nothing.” She brightened. “And if Jeffery is foolish enough to say anything different, it is really our word against his, isn’t it?”

  “Indeed,” said Barnaby. “And who is going to believe that Viscount Joslyn, strange American though he is, and his manservant were involved in such sordid doings?”

  For the first time since Jeffery and Ainsworth had burst out of the woods, Emily felt that last knot of anxiety loosen and disappear. Joslyn would bear no blame for tonight’s doings and Cornelia would be able to face her neighbors with her head held high: her great-niece had not brought shame on the family.

  Her cheek pressed against his broad chest, Emily listened to the steady beat of Joslyn’s heart, gratitude, tangling with another powerful, confusing emotion in her breast. He saved me, she admitted drowsily, unconsciously snuggling deeper into his secure embrace. Just before sleep took her, the stray thought crossed her mind that it was just as well he hadn’t been serious about marrying her . . . although being married to him wouldn’t have been so very bad. . . .

  The removal to Windmere was not without conflict. Once Emily was at home and everyone assured that all was well, her ruined gown changed and her hair combed, feeling more like herself, she argued that there was no longer any reason for them to seek sanctuary at Windmere. She lost the argument, Cornelia siding with Barnaby.

  “Ainsworth may not threaten us any longer,” Cornelia agreed smoothly, “but I see no harm in accepting his lordship’s very kind offer of hospitality for a few days.” She beamed at Barnaby who lounged nearby. “We owe him a great deal and it seems a shabby thing to throw his generosity back in his face—all the more so when we are packed and the coach is waiting in the driveway.”

  Emily eyed Cornelia and Joslyn suspiciously. They were, she decided, far too cozy with each other for her liking. After Cornelia had seen for herself that Emily was indeed unharmed, she had left her to the care of Sally and returned to the green salon to join Joslyn. Emily would have given a small fortune to know what they talked about while she had been absent, and she couldn’t shake the uneasy notion that she had been the topic of conversation. Still a bit shaky from her ordeal, in the face of Cornelia’s defection and the real debt of gratitude she owed Joslyn Emily capitulated.

  Waking the next morning at Windmere in the impressive rose-and-ivory bedroom, for one terrible moment, not recognizing her surroundings, she lay there frozen with fear. Was Ainsworth going to walk through the door and pick up where he had left off last night?

  Heart banging painfully in her chest, she jerked upright, her gaze traveling over the elegantly draped rose-figured ivory silk hung bed, the similarly hued rug on the floor and the gracious furnishings, and she realized suddenly that she was safe at Windmere. The home of Viscount Joslyn wasn’t exactly unknown to her, but her previous visits had only been as a casual guest of the previous viscount: she’d never stayed overnight at the magnificent house—or at the express invitation of the owner. Her heart rate slowing, Emily pushed back a heavy fall of silvery hair and, still slightly disoriented, wondered what the day would bring.

  Cornelia had been in her element when they had arrived at Windmere last night and she had taken as her due the superior service of the various servants in green-and-wheat livery who had wafted them from the coach and into the mansion. Giving no sign that it was anything unusual for my lord to return home with two female neighbors as guests, Peckham, after removing their cloaks, had clapped his hands and ordered their trunks and bandboxes carried upstairs.

  Barnaby took one look at Emily’s wan features and suggested that the ladies might wish to retire for the night. Smiling at the two women he said gently, “There is no need for you to socialize with my cousins tonight. Tomorrow will be soon enough.”

  Emily didn’t know whether to be relieved or insulted that she and Cornelia had been sent to bed like a pair of erring children, but she didn’t object. A cheerful, fresh-faced young woman had waited for her in the grand bedroom.

  “Good evening, miss,” the young woman had said. Dimpling, she had added, “I am Kate and will be your maid for your stay.”

  Normally having a stranger wait on her would have bothered Emily, but Kate was so quick and helpful and, realizing that she was wearier than she realized, Emily didn’t mind Kate’s assistance after all. When Emily was regally installed in the bed, with one last smile, Kate had disappeared.

  Alone in the strange room, Emily had been afraid that after her ordeal, even with its near-miraculous outcome that she would not sleep, but such had not been the case. After a few restless moments, she had relaxed and sleep had come—no nightmares disturbed her slumber.

  Feeling better than she thought she should, considering what had transpired yesterday, Emily slid from the bed. Her woolen robe lay nearby on an ivory damask-covered chair and slipping it on, she wandered into the adjoining dressing room. Pleased to find an ewer of still-warm water sitting next to a matching bowl trimmed in gilt and decorated with delicate pink rosebuds, she poured some of the water into the bowl and performed her morning ablutions.

  Used to seeing to herself most of the time Emily never considered ringing for a maid and finding one of her better gowns in the huge mahogany armoire, she quickly dressed. Braiding her hair with a lavender silk ribbon that matched the stripe in her silk-and-wool gown, she fashioned the thick gleaming strand into a bun at the base of her neck.

  She had just entered the charming sitting room adjacent to her bedroom when the door opened and Kate entered the room, humming under her breath. Seeing Emily, Kate stopped, surprised.

  “Miss! I
didn’t expect to find you up and dressed already,” she exclaimed. She smiled. “I was just coming to check on you, to see if you were awake and if the water I’d brought earlier was still warm.”

  Emily smiled at her. “It was. Thank you. And now I would appreciate it if you could show me to my aunt’s room.”

  Kate did so and Emily wasn’t surprised to find Cornelia up and dressed: both women were early risers. At Emily’s entrance, Cornelia said, “Good! I was hoping you were awake. Shall we go downstairs and see if the gentlemen are up?”

  Emily hesitated, not certain she was ready to face Joslyn or the curious eyes of his cousins just yet. Aware that she was only postponing the evil moment, she took a deep breath and nodded.

  Peckham showed the two ladies into the morning room and Emily tensed when she saw that Joslyn and his cousins were there before them. The four gentlemen were scattered around the table, the remains of their meal littered across the pristine white tablecloth, and at the entrance of the ladies, they all rose politely to their feet.

  From Mathew’s pinched nostrils and the carefully controlled expression on Joslyn’s face it was obvious that they had interrupted a disagreement of some kind. Mathew greeted them stiffly and Thomas, following his older brother’s lead, did the same, but Simon bowed gracefully over Cornelia’s hand and grinned and winked at Emily. Joslyn, an expression she found hard to read in the black eyes when he looked at her, escorted the pair of them to the table.

  Having seated Emily to his right and Cornelia opposite, Joslyn returned to his place at the head of the table. “I trust you ladies slept well?” he asked, smiling.

  Emily mumbled a reply and Cornelia replied in the affirmative. Glancing at Peckham hovering in the background, Barnaby said, “Serve the ladies, won’t you?”

  Little was said until the ladies were served and Peckham retired from the room. Too aware of Joslyn’s big masculine form only inches from her, Emily kept her eyes on her plate and poked at her food as the conversation picked up around her.

  Batting her still beautiful hazel eyes, Cornelia flirted outrageously with Simon and Barnaby; to Mathew and Thomas she was scrupulously polite—as they were to her.

  From the chilly looks sent her way by Mathew and Thomas, Emily had a good idea that she had been the cause of both Mathew’s displeasure and the look on Joslyn’s face when she and Cornelia had entered the room. She frowned at her plate. What had caused the antipathy she sensed from Mathew and Thomas?

  Thomas was seated on her other side and she glanced at him, groping for an explanation for the hostility she felt emanating from him. What had she ever done to him? She didn’t particularly like him, much preferring Simon’s easy manner, but there’d never been unpleasantness between them.

  Feeling her eyes upon him, Thomas looked up and gave her a cool stare. With thinly concealed sarcasm he said, “The last time it was an overturned carriage. Tell me, Miss Townsend, what calamity brings you to Windmere this time?”

  “Bats,” answered Cornelia from across the table; the expression in her eyes as they fixed on him had Thomas sitting bolt upright and concentrating on the snowy tablecloth as if his life depended upon it. It probably did. She hadn’t missed the unfriendly looks flashed Emily’s way by either Mathew or Thomas, and she wasn’t about to have Emily made the least uncomfortable by anyone, particularly not this impertinent, nosey stripling. “A whole swarm of them swooped out of a hole in the attics and roosted in our bedrooms,” she went on coolly, her gimlet stare switching to Mathew. He paled as he came under the full power of that hazel gaze. “Walker should have them removed in a day or two and we will return home,” she added carelessly. With a smile that dripped ice, she turned her attention back to Thomas and asked, “Does that answer your question, young man?”

  Thomas muttered something and, satisfied he wouldn’t dare risk her displeasure again, she said warmly to Barnaby, “And now, where were we, my lord?”

  Barnaby hid a smile, but vowed never to give her cause to look at him as she had Mathew and Thomas. “I believe that you were telling me how charming you found my great-grandfather and how I seem to have inherited the same, er, incredible charm.”

  Cornelia cackled with delight and the awkward moment passed. Breakfast was eventually finished and while Peckham, at Barnaby’s request, gave the ladies a tour of Windmere’s famous conservatory, the gentlemen retired to Barnaby’s study.

  Barnaby’s study was a handsome room in the oldest part of the mansion, the oak wainscot and the beautifully carved, coffered ceiling dating back to the days of the original castle. A rug in brilliant jeweled tones lay on the walnut parquet floor and chairs and sofas in fine fabrics and leather were spread about the big room; tables with marble tops were placed conveniently throughout the area. Books lined one wall, a massive desk and chair arranged in front of them; a huge black marble fireplace dominated the other wall and burgundy velvet drapes hung at the tall, narrow windows.

  Barnaby sat in an oxblood leather overstuffed chair at one side of the fireplace; Mathew stood at the other end of the fireplace. A twin to the chair in which Barnaby sat was at the opposite end of the fireplace and Thomas had chosen to sit there. Not far, Barnaby noticed sardonically, from Mathew. Simon, on the other hand, was sprawled on a gilded wood sofa covered in a Beauvais tapestry centered in front of the fireplace, his long legs stretched toward the fire that blazed and crackled on the hearth.

  As if there had been no pause, the moment the four men were settled, Mathew took up the argument that Emily and Cornelia’s entrance into the morning room had interrupted.

  “You cannot be serious about marrying her,” Mathew said grimly.

  “Of course, I am. You yourself have pointed out to me, among countless other things, that it is important that I marry.” A mocking light in the dark eyes, he added, “I would have thought you’d be overjoyed that I am, for once, following your advice.”

  Mathew looked as if he would explode. Between clenched teeth he managed, “Yes, it’s important that you marry, but it is equally important that the woman you marry equals you in rank and fortune.” Taking a deep breath, he said carefully, “Miss Townsend is a delightful young woman and I am sure that she will make some man a wonderful wife . . . but not yours. I can name two or three young women who would be much more suitable—the Duke of Ashford’s eldest daughter, for instance. She comes with an impressive dowry and her family is noble and well connected.” When Barnaby merely stared at him, he went on almost desperately, “If she is not to your liking, there is the Earl of Mansfield’s only child. She is not yet twenty, a pretty little thing and is heiress to thousands of acres of land and a handsome fortune in the funds. Either one would be far more suitable to be the next Viscountess Joslyn than Emily Townsend!”

  Thomas entered the fray. “Miss Townsend is a charming young lady, no denying it,” Tom said, “but good gad, she has no fortune to speak of, she is near as on the shelf as makes no matter and while her father was the local squire, she has no claim to noble blood. She is a nobody. You cannot marry her.”

  Barnaby’s eyes narrowed on Thomas. “I would tread cautiously there if I were you—I don’t recall that you have any say in who I marry or don’t marry.”

  Tom flushed and muttered, “I merely meant that you have not yet had an opportunity to meet other more eligible young women. As I said, Miss Townsend is charming, but I urge you to consider the great position she will hold as your wife.”

  Simon spoke up. A teasing gleam in the azure eyes he said, “My money is on Emily. She’s a bruising rider and can birth a lamb as expertly as any shepherd.” He grinned at Barnaby. “With your flocks that’s a necessary virtue.”

  “But hardly,” snapped Thomas, “an ability that the Viscountess Joslyn needs.”

  “I like Emily,” admitted Mathew reluctantly. “Known her since she was a child, but she has spent most of her life buried here in the country and has little concept of the world and what being your wife would entail.” When Barnaby r
emained unmoved, he burst out, “Damn it all, Barnaby! She is little more than a country bumpkin!”

  Softly Barnaby said, “As I warned Tom, I would tread carefully—especially when speaking of the woman I intend to marry.”

  Mathew’s lips whitened. “Your mind is made up?”

  Barnaby nodded. “Telling you my plans was only a courtesy,” he said, rising to his feet. “I don’t need your permission, and while I understand your position, it does not change mine: I intend to marry Emily just as soon as I can arrange it.” He smiled sweetly and murmured, “And now, if you will excuse me, I must go and see how my future bride is faring.”

  Barnaby found Emily and Cornelia in the conservatory, seated on a stone bench before a pool of water that swarmed with the brilliant gold and orange flashes of the darting goldfish amongst the artfully planted lily pads. Their expressions polite, the ladies were listening to Peckham as he pointed out the impressive variety of tropical plants before them. “This is but a small section containing vines and shrubs and trees from the tropics.” Pointing, he said, “Those purple and white orchids you see on the other side of the pond were originally acquired by the sixth viscount and the banana trees next to the orchids actually bear fruit. We also have pineapples and an odd fruit called guava.” He smiled proudly. “Our ferns are renowned for the many different species that have been collected over the years. If you would like, I can show—”

  Barnaby’s low cough stopped Peckham in midstream and, seeing his employer standing there, Peckham said, “My lord, I was just telling the ladies . . .”

  “Yes, yes, I overheard you,” Barnaby said hastily. “And a very good job you were doing. I’m sure they have enjoyed the tour immensely, but I can take over now.”