Marrying Mischief

by Lyn Stone

  And he wondered what he was going to do with her?

  So much for the noble effort to gain her trust, Nick thought with a delayed grimace. He had meant it as a very temporary gesture, that would hopefully last only seconds, minutes at most, while she decided he was telling her the truth.

  But no. There she went, flouncing off down the hallway in all her righteous fury, leaving him with utter frustration. Not to mention an aching arousal. Women!

  He thought seriously about putting a fist through the wall. That was all he needed, broken knuckles.

  Why the devil hadn’t he gone ahead and made love to her when he’d had the chance? She would have let him, was more than ready for him. He raked a hand through his hair, then tore off his neckcloth and slung it across the room.

  The truth was, he had to have more of Emily than just her passion when the time came. Desire had always been more than sufficient where other women were concerned—and there had been a number of them in his effort to forget her when his letters went unanswered—but with Emily, he wanted love and complete trust along with it.

  She had loved him once, believed in him, too. He needed her laughter, her optimism and the camaraderie that they’d had between them then. They’d had moments of it since he came back. Fleeting, but enough to prove it wasn’t hopeless. Surely it would be possible to recapture that one way or another. Some of her feelings for him remained.

  She didn’t want to see him dead. That was something at least.

  His gaze jerked to the door when it opened, but it was not Emily returning. “Is there a problem, Wrecker?” he asked.

  The new valet raised a bushy brow and eyed him up and down, obviously amused by the state Nick was in. “Looks like there might be. Saw m’lady wagging down the hall with her nose in the air. Make her mad at a inconvenient time, did ye?”

  Nick shrugged out of his jacket and unbuttoned his waistcoat, letting them fall where they would. “Never mind that. How goes the inquiry into Julius Munford’s whereabouts? Any news from the docks?”

  “He’s in London right enough. The Aphrodite put in ’bout a month ago.” Wrecker pursed his lips and noted the clothing on the floor, but he didn’t move to pick it up. One job at a time seemed to be his limit, Nick thought wearily, and acting an inquiry agent must be a great deal more interesting to Wrecker than the offices of valet.

  “Did you find out his direction?”

  Wrecker assumed an air of importance and looked powerfully pleased with himself. “Wouldn’t be worth my salt if I didn’t, now would I? A house on Lanette Street. Kept a woman there when he was here last year, but he’s got rid of her, so they say. He’s laying low, but did ask around about ye soon after he docked. I think he’s yer man.”

  “Excellent work,” Nick praised, feeling somewhat better now with one problem possibly near solution. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll arrange for a runner to keep an eye on him. You’ll be needed here from now on.”

  Wrecker grunted his agreement, then added, “If you don’t want nothing else of me this evenin’, I’m going down fer my supper.”

  Nick smiled. “You do that. Send someone up with mine while you’re about it. And tell Rosie to make certain Lady Emily has hers, as well.”

  Wrecker left, impudently grumbling about the hoity-toity who “wuz too high and mighty to take a meal at a table downstairs like they wuz supposed to do.”

  Fortunately the man had other assets because he certainly was proving quite hopeless as a servant, Nick thought.

  All of a sudden he felt hungry and optimistic and no longer disheartened by his argument with Emily. He made up his mind to turn it to his advantage and to enjoy the wooing of her confidence. After all, anything easily had was never properly appreciated, was it?

  Apparently she would take some convincing that he was not only content, but happy to have her as his wife. Given the way he had behaved since their wedding, no wonder she had a problem believing it.

  It should be safe enough to take her out for a short jaunt now and then if Wrecker accompanied them. After all, if Julius Munford was out to kill him, it was highly unlikely the man would attack Nick openly on a city street.

  Even in India, Munford had gone to great lengths twice to arrange a demise for Nick that would appear to be accidental. That was the primary reason Nick suspected him of planning the carriage incident.

  There had never been enough solid proof to haul him in. In fact, the man could not be located afterward, even if there had been proof. But Munford had issued public threats against Nick beforehand.

  They had been in competition for years. Nick had won that new clipper ship of his when Munford foolishly gambled it away. After a refusal to sell it back, Munford had stated the intent to kill him. It stood to reason it was him behind all of this.

  But tomorrow Munford would be safely under surveillance. It was only a matter of time before he was caught in the act of arranging another incident that would never have a chance to come to fruition.

  The following morning Nick was waiting for Emily when she arrived in the morning room for breakfast. He stood and smiled a greeting as she entered, ignoring her frown. “How lovely you look today, my dear,” he commented as one of the footmen held her chair for her to sit.

  She muttered perfunctory thanks. Whether that was for his compliment or the footman’s execution of his duty, Nick could not tell. No matter, he thought, as he waited for her to ingest her coffee.

  “Would you care to ride with me this afternoon?” he asked pleasantly. “The fresh air would do you good, I think, and the weather today is perfect.”

  “No, thank you. I do not ride.”

  “Of course you do. I taught you myself and you were a natural as I recall. If you’re out of practice, we shall find you a very gentle mare to start out. I can borrow one from—”

  “I do not ride,” she insisted with an impatient wriggle, smoothing her serviette more firmly over her lap.

  “Ah, you haven’t a riding habit yet. I’d forgotten. The open carriage, then, around two this afternoon. I know you have a gown appropriate for that.”

  She glared, first at the footman in attendance, who obeyed her unspoken command to disappear and close the door behind him. Then Nick had his turn under scrutiny. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Doing what?” He sipped his coffee and looked at her over the rim of his cup.

  “Acting as though nothing happened between us last night,” she accused in a low voice. Emily was ever direct in her approach to matters. He quite liked that she was.

  “Because nothing of any consequence did happen,” he reminded her as he rested his elbows on the table and clasped his hands together under his chin. But something would soon, if he had anything to say about it.

  “I had only thought you might like to take some air,” he assured her.

  “When going out endangers your life?” she asked, her expression prim as that of a schoolmistress. “I think not.”

  “Very public places such as the park would provide little opportunity for an attack, Emily,” he said sensibly. But what if she was afraid? What if it turned out that she had good cause? He would never forgive himself if she were harmed on his account. So he conceded. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  “Of course, I’m right.”

  “By the way, we received a belated invitation this morning to a musical evening with the Earl and Countess of Hammersley which is scheduled for tonight. Short notice, of course, and the countess apologized for that. They’ve only just heard we’re in town and didn’t wish us to feel excluded. I hope you don’t mind that I’ve accepted for us.”

  Sheer panic gripped her. Nick watched as her expression froze.

  “It will be safe, I promise,” he assured her. “They live just down the street. Michael is an old friend of mine and his wife, Julia, is a lovely person. This will be a good introduction into Society for you. For me, as well, since I’m practically new to all this myself. Not quite so overwhelming as a full-dres
s ball, though there will be those to endure in future, no getting around it.”

  The fingers gripping her fork were white-knuckled and she appeared quite speechless.

  He went on, busying himself buttering a slice of toast, allowing her time to adjust to the idea.

  “The music should be extraordinary. Julia is quite the patroness, so I hear, and a wonderful musician in her own right. Guy will be there, I’m certain, for he’s inordinately fond of music. He, Michael and I attended school together. The three of us set London on its ear when we got away to come here. I expect the entire city will welcome the fact that we’ve settled into adulthood at last.”

  She released the deep breath she’d taken. “No doubt.” His stream of mundane conversation had given her sufficient time to come to terms with what he was suggesting, and it hadn’t taken long at all, Nick noted with pride. Emily Loveyne Hollander never allowed anything to get the better of her. What spirit she had, he thought with admiration.

  Nick pushed away from the table and rose. “If you’ll excuse me, I have some business to attend for the next few hours.”

  “Of course,” she said, her gaze lowered to her plate.

  He walked the length of the table, tipped up her chin with one finger and smiled down at her. “We’ll forego the ride in the park for the time being, but I do want to show you London one day soon.”

  “Very well,” she agreed, then shook her head slightly. “However, about tonight…”

  “The blue silk,” he suggested, then, with a self-deprecating grin. “No extra ruffles. I’ll contain my wretched jealousy as best I can and share your beauty.”

  She actually smiled back at him, but he warned himself it could be but a nervous reaction on her part.

  “I shall see you later.” He left the morning room before she could change her mind.

  Instead of ordering the carriage around, Nick went through the conservatory and out the back way through the gardens. It was only a half hour’s jaunt to Guy’s house in Ainsley Square. Gentlemen rarely walked to make visits, but he needed the exercise and time to think. Besides that, the fewer people who were aware of where he went, the better.

  His business with Guy would not wait until their prearranged appointment at the coffeehouse. Nick wanted to hire a shadow for Julius Munford immediately. Hopefully this would take only an hour or so to complete.

  Afterward he would stop by and have a word with Hammersley. Tonight could be crucial to Emily’s acceptance and Nick would need all the assistance possible to effect it.

  He worried that Emily would not find and secure her place among his peers immediately, if ever. Some were inveterate snobs and viewed anyone outside the topmost echelons as common interlopers. Anything he could do to ease the way for Emily must be done now, today.

  Hammersley’s evening of entertainment would have a limited list of guests and provide an excellent opportunity to introduce his wife without overwhelming her. Or them, Nick thought with an ironic smile.

  Hands in his pockets, his boots eating up the distance along the alley that backed the gardens in Mayfair, he reconsidered the wisdom of bringing Emily out this quickly after her arrival in London. He devoutly hoped things went as he planned.

  For her own sake, he did not want to see her shunned and unhappy. However, he would be lying if he pretended that his own ambitions would not also be affected by his wife’s acceptance or lack of it.

  That might be selfish, but there it was. He was a lord, and respect within the House of Lords was vitally important to him. Emily was more important to him, of course, but there was no reason they should not both be better served by adapting to what they must.

  Though he was not all that familiar himself with London Society, there was one every bit as strict set up in British-ruled India. A number of those now living here had once served abroad, so he already had a few friends within the charmed circle.

  Emily had met none of them other than Guy. Oh, and the Worthings, he remembered with a grimace. God forbid his and Emily’s paths should cross theirs anytime in the near future.

  If only he and Emily had already solved the intimate problems associated with their marriage, he might be able to offer her more direction in how to get on with the nobles she would meet. As things now stood, she would see any suggestions he made as criticism and that would only drive the wedge between them deeper than ever.

  Even as he considered that, Nick had already begun making a mental list of things she must and must not do and say. That was the easy task. Figuring out how to present Emily with that tally would be the true challenge.

  Chapter Fifteen

  They were going to hate her, all of them, Emily just knew it. Every last one would smirk and laugh up their sleeve at the country bumpkin come to town. Admitting that aloud to anyone never crossed her mind.

  To Rosie, who busily constructed the most outlandish pile of curls on top of Emily’s head, she presented an air of confidence that surprised even herself. While the maid chattered mindlessly about the advantages of discreetly applied lip rouge and rice powder, Emily sat with a frozen smile, her eyes trained unseeing on the mirror before her.

  Nick, who had come by her chamber earlier to issue his diatribe on rules of behavior, she simply ignored. Did he truly think she would pick her teeth in public or something equally rude? Fie on him. Her manners had surpassed his by the time she was nine and she had told him so in no uncertain terms.

  A vicar’s daughter had etiquette fed to her along with her porridge even before she learned to walk and talk. But it wasn’t her manners she worried about in this instance.

  “My father was the younger son of a baron,” she muttered, more as a reminder to herself than to inform Rosie.

  “That a fact? Well, them persnickety folk tonight won’t have a patch on you, will they! And yer mam?”

  “A distant cousin of his. She trained to be a governess, but she and Father wed before she took a position.”

  Rosie tugged one long curl and watched it spring into place along Emily’s neck. “See there? If any body knows the ins and outs of what highborn muckety-mucks is supposed ta do, it’d be one of them governess ladies. They teach it, now don’t they?”

  And Mother had taught her. She’d had twelve years of lessons. Emily felt a real smile warm her. “Thank you, Rosie. I honestly can’t think what I would do without you.”

  “Take a sight longer gettin’ yer clothes on, I expect.” She removed the protective muslin cape from Emily’s shoulders and stood back a few feet, hands on her hips, head cocked to one side. “There now, we done a right proper job of it. If you don’t set the toffs’ heads turnin’ wi’ admiration, I don’t know what’s what!”

  Emily smiled back, then transferred her gaze from Rosie’s mirrored reflection to her own. She had to admit the girl had a knack for styling hair.

  The sapphire necklace and earrings complemented the new blue silk gown to perfection. Nick had brought the jewels earlier. She had asked if they were Lady Elizabeth’s. Nick had smiled and said they were not his mother’s, that they were hers.

  She knew, however, that they must have belonged to the countess. Nick had no reason to purchase jewels for her and had not really had time to shop for any since they’d arrived. Besides, they matched her wedding ring perfectly, they had to be part of the set. Touching them gave her added self-assurance.

  She hadn’t questioned him any more about it. She suspected he had chosen these particular ones to ensure that she wore the blue gown that matched them.

  Emily felt a pang of sadness as she touched the largest stone that rested in the hollow of her throat. Would the countess truly have minded Vicar Loveyne’s daughter wearing these if she had lived to witness Nick’s marriage? The cold metal setting warmed against her skin as if in answer. No, of course not.

  “I will take excellent care not to lose any of it,” she declared softly. Not the jewels or the countess’s son. Emily felt as if her ladyship somehow knew of the role Emily had a
ssumed and now entrusted her with everything the countess had treasured.

  There were no ghosts, of course. Spirits went to heaven when the bodies no longer held them. Her father said so, and a vicar would know if anyone would. But some essence of the countess must have remained behind and, whether real or imagined, Emily was glad of that.

  “I wish you could come with me tonight,” she whispered as she ran a trembling finger over the facets of the fiery sapphire.

  “Me, at a social do? Law, that’d be a sight, wouldn’t it!” Rosie exclaimed with a merry laugh. “Now you’d best go meet his lordship downstairs. He said eight o’clock and it’s a bit past that.” She pointed to the clock on the mantel.

  Emily stood and allowed Rosie to tug at the hem of her skirt so that it hid the froth of lace that edged her petticoat. The neckline of the blue silk was not quite as daring as that of the gown she’d worn when Duquesne had visited. She prayed Nick would approve of how she looked in it. If he didn’t, then he had best keep his opinion to himself, she thought with a huff.

  She pulled on her long gloves and Rosie handed her the ivory fan. A gossamer shawl completed the costume that transformed the simple country miss into the countess she was supposed to be now. Emily squared her shoulders and donned the attitude to match her ensemble.

  No one, most of all Nicholas, must detect the slightest inkling of her fear. She would brave this night out if it killed her.

  She swept out of her room and made her way carefully down the wide, curved staircase. Nick looked up, watching her descend, his eyes signaling his pride in her and lending her more confidence than she had felt thus far.

  He reached for her hand and assisted her on the last two treads. “My, what a vision you are. Remind me to increase Rosie’s wages.”

  Emily felt herself blush at both his compliment and his close inspection. After a few moments of trying to decide whether he could not tear his gaze away because he really liked the way she looked, or if he was searching for flaws, she grew distinctly uncomfortable. “Will we be late?” she asked.