The Counterfeit Betrothal

by April Kihlstrom

  “It was not so difficult for you to be civil to them before you went upstairs,” Emmaline observed shrewdly.

  Jeremy hesitated. “Before I went upstairs I did not yet wish to speak with you alone, and now I do. Besides, the things I heard your sisters say were, well, the outside of enough.”

  Emmaline moved closer to Barnett. “I was afraid you had,” she said. “You ought not to have eavesdropped, of course, but I can offer no excuses for my sisters either. What I do not understand is why you wished to speak with me alone. Is it about my father?”

  He shook his head and she persisted, “Are you in trouble, then? Is there any way I can help?”

  Jeremy smiled down at her sardonically and with one hand gently touched her cheek. “My dear Emmaline,” he murmured. “You always were so loyal. And yet, I confess it is not entirely flattering to me that you immediately assume I have landed myself in the briars.”

  Aware of a rising warmth within herself to match what she saw in his eyes, Emmaline stepped away from Jeremy. A trifle breathlessly she said, “Oh, are you not? I am sorry then. I fear I am taking after my sisters. What is the reason you wished to speak with me?”

  As she waited, Emmaline could not help but regret, as she had since his arrival, that the dress she wore was sadly out of date. For the first time in a long while she wished she had taken more pains with her hair. Particularly when she looked at Jeremy, resplendent in his coat of blue Bath cloth, biscuit-colored trousers, polished boots, and neatly tied neckcloth. Already shaken, she was completely undone when he came forward and grasped her hand. There was a kindness in his voice that she remembered all too well as he said, still ignoring her question, “How do you go on, Emmaline? It cannot be easy with your father ill and you the one to always be looking after him.”

  Coloring, Emmaline looked down, afraid to meet Jeremy’s eyes. “You are kind, but I have grown accustomed, some time since, to my situation,” she said quietly.

  “Well so your father has not,” Jeremy replied gently. “He wishes far more for you. A husband, a family perhaps.”

  Snatching back her hand, Emmaline hastily turned away. “You need not roast me,” she said with dignity. “I know very well that I am all but on the shelf. At my last prayers, in fact. But I cannot change what it is.”

  “No, but I should like to alter your situation,” Jeremy said gently from a point just above and behind her shoulder.

  Puzzled, Emmaline turned to face him. “What are you trying to say to me?” she demanded warily. “What harebrained scheme have you hatched this time?”

  A wry smile upon his face, Jeremy said, “None, my dear Emmaline. What I am trying to say, so wretchedly I fear, is that I should like you to become my wife.”

  All the colors drained from Emmaline’s face and she found herself sitting down in the nearest chair. “What did you say?” she asked at last.

  Bitterness twitched at Jeremy’s lips as he said, “I have asked you to marry me, Miss Delwyn. Apparently my proposal was a far greater shock to you than I had anticipated; I am sorry. I had not realized how thoroughly news of my reputation must have reached you.”

  Abruptly he knelt in front of her. “Were there more time, I should have courted you for the weeks or months that custom prescribes. With your father’s illness, however, it is his own wish that I should not wait. And I need no such time to know my own heart.” He hesitated, then added, “We are not entirely strangers. You know me well I enough to know that I do not dance to the tune of convention nor do I think that you do. But if your father should die before we were married, then the wedding would have to be put off some months at the least, perhaps a year, and your father does not wish that to happen.”

  “You, you have already spoken to my father?” Emmaline said in astonishment. “And he approves?”

  Jeremy cocked his head. “Did you think me so lost to all decency that I would speak to you first? Ask him, if you will, what he thinks of the notion. Then give me your answer. I shall wait right here, if you wish, while you do.”

  A trifle dazed, Emmaline stood and Jeremy stood with her. “Yes, yes,” she said absently, “perhaps that would be best. Pray excuse me. I shall return shortly.”

  Upstairs she found her father and his friends talking quietly. At the sight of her stunned face, Lord Barnett rose to his feet. “Shall I leave the two of you alone?” he asked.

  Emmaline put out a hand to stop him. “No. Please. This concerns you as much as my father, I believe. Papa, is it true that you wish me to marry Jeremy Barnett?”

  “I wish you to marry whomever you will. You know I have never pressed you to choose against your own inclinations. But I did think you liked the boy,” Sir Osbert countered. “Has Jeremy said he wishes to marry you?”

  Emmaline nodded and he went on, “What did you tell him?”

  Her eyes began to dance. “I didn’t answer. I was too astonished, I’m afraid, to do so.”

  “Do you very much dislike the idea?” Gilbert asked, his expression held rigidly impassive.

  Emmaline turned to face her father’s friend. “No,” she said honestly, “I cannot say that I dislike the notion. I have long felt a tendre for your son. But I knew that was a foolish fantasy and I did not expect him to feel the same. Indeed, before today I should have said he was all but unaware of my existence save as a sort of annoying younger sister, unrelated though we may be.”

  Lord Barnett coughed. “Yes, well, young men do not always wear their hearts upon their sleeves. Nevertheless I must say the match has my approval. I think it would answer very well, both for you, Emmaline, and for my son Jeremy.”

  “I should like it as well,” Sir Osbert said quietly. “You know I’ve always had a fondness for the boy and for you. If you married Jeremy, then I should not have to worry what will happen to you when I die. But the decision is yours, Emmaline. I should never wish to press you into anything you would find distasteful.”

  Emmaline looked at Lord Barnett. “Is he serious in his proposal, your son?”

  “Very serious,” Barnett answered gravely.

  “Why now? Why so suddenly?” she persisted.

  “He is aware of my condition, that is part of it, but that doesn’t matter,” Sir Osbert broke in to say. “I think you will find, my dear, that if you accept Jeremy Barnett, he will do his best to see you happy.”

  Emmaline hesitated, then bent over to kiss her father’s forehead. “Then I shall accept Jeremy’s proposal, Papa. And I confess that I feel myself in some sort of wonderful dream. Shall I bring him back upstairs now?”

  Sir Osbert’s eyes twinkled perceptibly as he replied, “After you have given Jeremy suitable time to reply to your acceptance, my dear. After all, he may wish to express his pleasure, you know.”

  With a laugh Emmaline left her father’s bedroom. She did not at once return downstairs, however. Instead she went to her room and took her time rearranging her hair and changing her dress to one of blue cambric. The scooped neck and flounced hem were the latest fashion and the color flattered her eyes. It had been her one recent extravagance and now she wore it defiantly downstairs. It was not foolish vanity to wish to appear at one’s best for the man one was soon to marry.

  The fact that Emmaline had so little time of late to think of clothes did not mean that she was unaware of the courage that came with knowing one looked one’s best.

  Emmaline paused, and admitted to herself that she needed courage right now. There was something about Jeremy that frightened her—he no longer seemed the heedless boy she had fallen in love with so many years before. Instead, he had become the man who now claimed her, and that man was all but a stranger.

  Nevertheless, there was a lightness to Emmaline’s step as she entered the parlor that with the rest of her transformation made Jeremy regard her with frank amazement and approval. Smiling, she said, “Well, my friend, unless you have changed your mind in the past half hour, then I should very much like to accept your proposal of marriage.”

&
nbsp; For a moment Jeremy did not move. However happy the change in Emmaline’s appearance, he nevertheless felt suddenly trapped as a wild beast might when snared in a net. But then he was all courtesy as he possessed himself of Emmaline’s hand and smiled in return. “I am delighted,” he said.

  Emmaline lowered her eyes, conscious of her heart racing at the warmth that seemed to fill Jeremy’s eyes. Before she could protest, he took her in his arms and kissed her. At first it was a gentle kiss, meant more as a token gesture than anything else. Then, as though a devil possessed him, he could not help kissing her with a growing insistence that forced her own lips apart as his arms tightened around her and hers around him. Jeremy broke off first, leaving Emmaline breathless.

  A trifle frightened by feelings she had not known were in her, Emmaline stammered hastily, “My—my father would like to see you. Us. Right now.”

  “Of course,” he said, stepping back. Silently he cursed himself for frightening her. After all, there was no need. She would be his wife soon enough and then there would be time to discover the truth of her nature, something that must in no way affect his decision to marry Emmaline. Theirs was, after all, an arranged marriage of sorts, and should she prove cold after the wedding, why then Jeremy would scarcely be at a loss to find warmth elsewhere. At that he was already an expert. It was madness to risk everything this way.

  With an attempt to make amends he asked her gently, “Have I shocked you? I did not mean to. You were so beautiful just then, and I felt so fortunate. But let us go up and tell our fathers the good news.”

  Swiftly Emmaline’s eyes rose to meet his. “Yes. I think they would like that,” she said honestly. With a half bow, Jeremy offered her his arm. Seated side by side, Lord Barnett and Sir Osbert received their children with warm congratulations. Lord Barnett went so far as to rub his hands together and say briskly, “Good. Now that’s settled, when shall we set the date for? Three weeks? Four? Or shall I arrange for a special license and we hold the wedding as soon as it arrives?”

  Emmaline could not but be aware of how Jeremy stiffened beside her, and her own impulse was to protest. But there was no need. Sir Osbert spoke for them. “No, Gilbert,” he said firmly. “I’ll not have these two rushed into things. The betrothal announcement shall be sent out as quickly as you wish and all the relatives, on both sides, notified. But I’ll not have the date set until these two have had more time to come to know one another.”

  “More time to know one another?” Gilbert demanded, his color and voice rising. “But they grew up on neighboring estates and have known one another all their lives!”

  “You forget, Gilbert, that by your decree Jeremy has not been by here for some number of years. Moreover, I’ll not have the pair of them bullied into a hurried marriage,” Sir Osbert countered. “I’ve no wish, even if you are indifferent to gossip, to have it bandied about that there was something havey-cavey about the business. You don’t wish it said, do you, that this was a matter of urgency?”

  Gilbert halted in midprotest as the meaning of Osbert’s words sank in. After a moment he said, “You are right, of course, old friend. Very well. We shall not yet set the date. But I am sure,” he added, fixing his son with a firm stare, “that my son will wish to spend as much time as possible getting to know, as you put it, his fiancée.”

  “By all means,” Sir Osbert agreed cordially. “But for now, off with the pair of you. You may call again tomorrow, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy bowed, said all that was polite, and took his leave with his father. That unhappy gentleman kept a civil tongue, but even Emmaline could guess he would have a great deal to say when he reached home.

  4

  Over the next several days, Emmaline had to endure the delight of her father’s entire staff over her impending marriage, even as her own uneasiness grew, an uneasiness she had no explanation for. Jeremy came to call every day and he was attentive and amusing, and yet she could not help but feel that something was wrong.

  Mrs. Bailey, however, was in raptures as she said, “Such a handsome face! And such excellent manners. You must be so happy, Miss Emmaline. And may I say we are all so happy as well to know that you will soon be settled so comfortably.”

  Emmaline toyed with the tassle of a curtain as she said, “Yes, well thank you, Mrs. Bailey. But there is no question of an immediate wedding, you know. Not so long as Papa—”

  “Oh, go on with you,” Mrs. Bailey scoffed. “As though your father would allow that to interfere. I happen to know he has already spoken with Dr. Farley, who said that there would be time to send for you should your papa take a turn for the worse while you were on your honeymoon. And Mrs. Colton has offered to come and look in upon your father every day if he wishes. Once you’re married.”

  “Mrs. Colton is a dear lady and has been good to us,” Emmaline said with a smile, “but she is scarcely out of mourning for her own husband. How I can I ask her to take on such a task as that?”

  Mrs. Bailey sniffed. “You wouldn’t have to ask her to take it on. She’s already offered.”

  With a hint of desperation in her voice Emmaline said, “Yes, well, we shan’t need that just yet. Neither Mr. Barnett nor I are quite prepared to set the date of our wedding.”

  “Aye, but that will change in a few days or weeks, you’ll see.” Mrs. Bailey nodded her head wisely. “Gentlemen always become impatient. P’rhaps that’s the gentleman’s carriage I hear.”

  To Emmaline’s relief—a sensation that did not auger well for the future—it was not Jeremy’s curricle the housekeeper had heard but her sister’s. “Caroline?” she said with some surprise a few minutes later. “I am delighted to see you, but this is very unexpected.”

  A trifle breathless, Caroline stepped into the parlor, stripping off her gloves as she did so. She kissed Emmaline upon the cheek and then sat beside her on the sofa. “Oh, Emmy, I had to come and see you. Is it true you are to marry Jeremy Barnett?”

  Avoiding her sister’s eyes, Emmaline said, “Why, yes, are you not pleased for me?”

  “No!” Caroline said vehemently. At Emmaline’s startled look she possessed herself of both her sister’s hands and said, “I know you have always had a fondness for him, Emmaline, and I know that in spite of everything anyone may say he is still the most eligible parti hereabouts and I ought to be very happy for your sake, but I am not. Not unless he has spoken to you of love. Has he?”

  “N-no,” Emmaline admitted slowly. Then she asked, bewildered, “But how can you disapprove? Wasn’t your own betrothal to Frederick much the same? I don’t recall that he spoke of love, though we all knew you loved him. Didn’t you feel the same astonished happiness when he offered for you?”

  It was Caroline’s turn to look away. She took a deep breath, then said, “I see I must tell you the whole sordid story.”

  And so she did. With increasing dismay Emmaline heard a tale of love on her sister’s part paired with contempt and increasing desertion by her husband. What had begun as a light affair when Caroline had been pregnant with her first child had become a way of life for Frederick. Indeed, he scarcely bothered to treat her with civility anymore.

  “Surely it cannot be as bad as that?” Emmaline protested, appalled when her sister was done.

  “It is far worse, I assure you,” Caroline countered. “Frederick never wished to marry me; it was his mother’s wish. He is forever telling me so. Oh, Emmaline, there are times when I think I cannot bear it. But what choice do I have? Only I could not bear to think you might repeat my mistake and I felt I must warn you. If I am mistaken and your betrothal to Jeremy is not as mine was to Frederick, then I beg you to forgive me. And I pray you will not be angry with me.”

  “How could I be angry?” Emmaline asked warmly as she embraced her hapless sister. “I know you have come to try to help me.”

  “Then you will think about what I have said?” Caroline demanded.

  “I will think about what you have said,” Emmaline assured her. “But what are we
to do about you?”

  “Nothing,” Caroline said quietly.

  “But Papa would never stand for—” Emmaline began.

  “Papa’s health would never stand for him to know the truth,” Caroline broke in wearily. “And you needn’t think it would do any good for you to speak to Frederick. He only laughs when his own mother tells him he is behaving terribly toward me. No, I am trapped, but you need not be.”

  When her sister left shortly thereafter, Emmaline went upstairs, determined to beard her father.

  Not quite certain of how to begin, she spoke somewhat hesitantly. “Papa, will you tell me what is really afoot? Why Jeremy proposed to me.”

  Sir Osbert tried to evade her eyes. “What do you mean, child?” he asked querulously. “The boy wishes to marry you, you wish to marry him, what more is there to say?”

  “A great deal,” she countered. “I believed this—this Banbury tale at first, that he had come to care for me. But somehow I begin to wonder now, and I mean to have the truth. Did circumstances or Lord Barnett compel Jeremy to ask for my hand?”

  “Do you think Lord Barnett, or anyone for that matter, could compel that young man to do something he did not wish to do?” Sir Osbert asked with mock amazement.

  “Yes,” Emmaline retorted bluntly. “I like Lord Barnett but a more ruthless man I have never met. And however determined Jeremy may be, we all know that he is vulnerable to Lord Barnett’s commands because he is forever short of funds—if half the gossip that reaches us is to be believed. Indeed, I have no doubt that is precisely the reason Lord Barnett refuses to settle any property on his son.”

  “Very well.” Osbert sighed. “I shall tell you the truth. But I want no missishness from you, do you hear? Gilbert has threatened to cut Jeremy off without a penny, while he is alive, if he does not marry—and soon. Gilbert even suggested you as a suitable bride.”