Emily's Beau

by Allison Lane

  “Did you ever tell her?” he asked, reining in a demand to know why Jacob knew how Emily tasted. He topped off Jacob’s glass. “She never mentioned it, and I didn’t notice any particular regard.”

  “Never meant to wed. Too dangerous, though she said—” He scowled. “Maybe right, but what good is it? Doesn’t want me.”

  Richard couldn’t believe he’d pulled a near-admission of love from Jacob’s lips. But he must move fast if he hoped to get more. Already he could see the shutters closing across Jacob’s secrets. “Do you mean that you intended to court Emily but were so slow about it that she turned elsewhere?”

  Jacob paused for nearly a minute. “Meant to start that night, but Charles betrayed me. Must have known. Bastard knows everything. Hates to lose, so jumped in to grab her. Trying to annoy me.”

  Richard stared. What an idiot! Jacob could be dense at times, but this was beyond anything he’d done before. “Charles pressed his attentions from the moment Emily arrived in London. Every gossip in town commented on it. How could you not notice?”

  Jacob shrugged.

  “So what will you do now?”

  “Get rid of Harriet, then go home. Never should have brought the bitch to town. Just like her mother. Selfish to the core.”

  “If you want to go home, why come back at all? You were just at Oakhaven.”

  “Not Oakhaven.” He slumped in his chair. “Hawthorne. Haven’t seen it in years. Couldn’t face Emily. Too young. Too damned young…” His head fell forward.

  “Fool!” snapped Richard. But Jacob had passed out.

  Richard remained for several minutes while his mind worked out the clues Jacob had let fall. The man was crazy in love with Emily, but he’d been so distracted by Harriet’s arrival that he hadn’t realized it – Jacob was the most stubborn man he knew. If he’d decided never to wed, he would refuse to consider anything that might change his mind. Thus he’d stayed aloof, even refusing to visit Hawthorne after Emily came of age. Emily thought he wasn’t interested, so she’d accepted the offer from Charles. But they would be miserable together.

  He headed home, turning an idea over in his head. There was no way to prove that Emily preferred Jacob. She would deny it if asked, for she was not one to abandon commitments. The only way she might break her betrothal was if Jacob declared his love in no uncertain terms. Jacob would never do it. Honor would stop him.

  So they had to be tricked.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jacob strode into the Thompson ball the next night a changed man. He couldn’t believe last evening’s maudlin prattling, but that was over. The headache he’d awakened with had forced him to take a close look at what he was doing to himself. It had to stop.

  He’d been stupid from the beginning. Why had he thought that Emily would accept friendship without wanting more? She’d been in town to find a husband, for heaven’s sake! Since he’d shown no sign of offering for her, she’d turned elsewhere.

  He could hardly blame Charles for stepping in to claim her. If he’d had an ounce of brains, he would have seen that their match was inevitable.

  In truth, he couldn’t even blame Harriet for this fiasco. Yes, she’d arrived at an inconvenient time. Yes, she’d reawakened memories he would have preferred to forget. Yes, he would cheerfully strangle her. But it wasn’t Harriet’s fault that he had refused to recognize his own feelings until it was too late.

  Tonight he would begin a new life. Emily was lost. But he was a gentleman born, a belted earl with more than a thousand dependents on three estates, a man charged with the responsibility to guide England’s policies at home and abroad. His honor would not allow him to renege on any of those duties.

  He would take that break at Hawthorne Park – it was past time to personally inspect his seat. But he would not use the visit to cower and hide. So before he left town, he must make peace with Charles.

  But first he had a more pleasant errand. He’d finally heard from Barnes. The man recalled Harriet as a quiet girl with sad eyes, who rarely mingled with other children. Since he’d respected Wentworth and admired Mrs. Wentworth, he would gladly take her to wife.

  Tonight Jacob would break the news about her forthcoming nuptials. She would leave for Yorkshire in the morning.

  The rented ballroom was crowded. He didn’t know the Thompsons – Mr. Thompson owned coal mines in several counties; Mrs. Thompson was a baronet’s daughter, which gave them access to society’s fringe – so Jacob hadn’t received an invitation to this ball. But no one on the fringe would dare turn away an earl. His presence would raise Thompson’s credit several notches.

  He pushed through the crowd, parrying greetings. In the end, it was Harriet who found him.

  “Jacob! You’re back!” If an outstretched hand hadn’t stopped her, she would have flung herself against him. “I’ve been looking for you for days, but that awful Miss Beaumont wouldn’t let me summon you. We have to talk.” Grabbing his arm, she tugged him toward the balcony.

  “We will.” He changed direction, leading her to one of the anterooms off the main hall. But he’d barely crossed the threshold when a snick whirled him around. Harriet leaned against the closed door. Before he could protest, she ripped her bodice, then threw her arms around his neck and rubbed against him.

  “Stop this!” he snapped, peeling her off. A shove forced her into a chair. “What the devil is wrong with you?”

  “I’ve compromised you. Now you must marry me.”

  He shook his head. “You are mad.”

  “No. That’s what happened to Miss Lutterworth. When her father caught up with her, he had to approve the marriage, for she was hopelessly compromised.” Her smile sent chills down his spine.

  “You are a worse slut than your mother.” He ignored her gasp. “And far more stupid. If you had paid any attention to our lectures, you would know how ridiculous you sound.”

  “Even Lord Sedgewick had to wed a nobody when he compromised her.”

  “There was no coercion involved, Miss Nichols. He’d been in love with her for weeks. It was obvious to anyone with eyes. Had they not wanted to marry, they could easily have escaped nuptials.”

  “But—”

  “As for Miss Lutterworth, her father thought Mr. Lastmark young for marriage – he is barely twenty. The only way they could follow their hearts was to stage that silly elopement. They knew her father would catch up long before they reached Gretna Green. Having made their point, they will have the wedding they wanted. None of that applies to you, though.”

  “Are you saying you don’t want me?” She batted her eyes.

  “Exactly.”

  “But you’ll take me anyway. A man in your position has to wed, and since the one you wanted chose another—”

  His snarl stopped her cold. Damn her to hell! Somehow, she’d arranged Emily’s betrothal. Had she set up a compromise scene so Emily had no choice? It would be just like her to remove someone she considered a rival. He had to talk to Charles. But first, he must rid himself of this parasite permanently.

  “No, Miss Nichols. I don’t have to wed. But even if I did, I would never choose you. I don’t care if you ruin your reputation, so I feel no need to protect it.”

  “B-but all those lectures—”

  “—told you what you needed to know to be accepted in town. We gave you a chance to improve yourself and the tools you would need. If you are too stupid to use that chance wisely, it is not my affair.”

  “But—” She started to rise, falling back when he glared.

  He shook his head. “A lord does not reach into a cesspit for his wife. In your greed, you chose to spurn those who might have taken you. Now you have nothing.”

  “I’ll ruin you if you don’t wed me,” she snarled.

  He laughed. “The closed door? Forget it, Harriet. My credit is so far above yours, no one would ever accept your word over mine, even if I lied through my teeth. But in this case, the truth will protect me better than any chaperon. No one will thin
k twice about me seeking privacy to beat some sense into my sister.”

  She blanched. “Sister?”

  “My bastard sister. Your slut of a mother seduced my father. He was the only man she was entertaining that month, so there is no question about who fathered you.”

  “It was Captain Nichols!”

  He snorted. “She married Nichols, and a good man he was, too. Far too good for the likes of her, though he learned that too late.”

  “No-o-o.”

  He ignored her protest. “My bedroom window overlooked hers, so I saw what sort of woman she was – you must know she never bothered closing her curtains. She lured others to her bed from the day she arrived. Do you want names? I can provide them. Every damned one. Eleven of them before she sank her claws into my father. Captain Nichols was immediately sent to quell a disturbance in the interior.”

  “I know.” She glared defiantly. “Mama told me how tragic it was that he died six months before I was born, so he never even saw me.”

  “But she didn’t mention that he’d been gone a full six months before his death.” He let her do the sums, her face whitening as she realized the truth.

  Nichols had never learned that his wife had conceived. She had hidden her condition from the regiment until after his death. But Jacob had heard her celebrating with his father when she confirmed her pregnancy. Their laughter had been larded with curses at Nichols’s luck and with speculation on how much longer he could survive that suicide assignment.

  That was the day he’d learned to hate the man who had sired him. Obsession had stripped away every vestige of honor. He’d murdered his best friend as truly as if he’d held the knife that slit his throat.

  “You have to be wrong,” Harriet pleaded. “Mama swore—”

  “You were born twelve months after Captain Nichols left Bombay,” he confirmed. “Your mother lied whenever it suited her. Didn’t you wonder why the good captain was sent on that mission? Everyone knew the leader of the expedition would not return alive. There was no need to send anyone at all, for the decision had already been made to postpone a confrontation with that particular raja. But your mother begged my father to rid her of an inconvenient husband – who was one of the best officers in the regiment – thus Nichols was told to bring the raja to heel. In the meantime, the pair set about poisoning my mother so they could be together.”

  “No—”

  “Yes. Your mother didn’t love him, of course. She merely wanted the most powerful man available – just like you. If not for her maid, my mother would have died in India. He tried again, of course, but by the time he succeeded, your mother had found another protector in the person of Wentworth.”

  Harriet cringed into the seat, staring as if she’d never seen him before. “It can’t be true.”

  “It’s time you grew up, Harriet. The world does not exist for your benefit. Face facts. You are the bastard daughter of a whore, who was the bastard daughter of another whore. She dazzled Wentworth into marriage before he learned the truth – by then the entire regiment knew that you couldn’t be Nichols’s; they could count easily enough. But I doubt she changed her ways after marriage. She always tried to attach anyone who could raise her consequence.

  He waited until her shoulders sagged, indicating that she’d finally accepted the truth. “We won’t discuss this again. Out of deference to your blood, I gave you a chance to better yourself. You used it to anger my friends and alienate anyone who might have offered for you. I will not ask them to put up with your megrims another day. A carriage will collect you in the morning.”

  “To go where?” For the first time, her voice sounded forlorn.

  “I can’t house you without revealing your breeding, which would lower your credit even more. Bastard daughters have no entrée into society. Nor can I send you to Hawthorne Park. My aunt remains there. She is well aware of the damage your mother caused our family and would never allow you to set foot in the house.”

  “Surely you could demand—”

  “No! I will not ask her to sacrifice her pride.” He moved to the fireplace to put distance between them. “Since you have failed to attract a suitable husband, I accepted an offer from Mr. Barnes of Yorkshire. My secretary will accompany you and arrange that your dowry be handed over upon conclusion of the marriage.”

  “You can’t!”

  “Certainly, I can. I am your guardian. You are not yet of age.”

  “I’ll run away!”

  He shrugged. “If that is what you choose, I cannot stop you. But for once in your life, think before you act. Running away will sever any responsibility I have for you. You would face a choice between starvation and prostitution. There would be no gloss of elegance from setting up as a courtesan, for no gentleman would protect you after you deceived society by passing yourself off as a lady. Of course, the choice would likely not be yours. A procurer for one of the brothels would pick you up before you’d been on the streets a day. Once in a house, you would have no say in your future. The penalty for noncooperation is usually death.”

  “You exaggerate.”

  Jacob sighed. “Willful to a fault. No, I don’t exaggerate. That is what you face if you run – assuming you survive the first night. Chances are equally good that you would be dead before morning. So I suggest that you pack your things and plan on living in Yorkshire. Don’t flee along the way. Your chances of survival in the country are equally grim. There is no way you could find decent employment without a reference. If you turned to thievery, you would be transported. Otherwise, you would be tossed in the nearest workhouse. Marriage to Mr. Barnes is far better.”

  “M-Mama threatened me with the w-workhouse whenever I d-displeased her.” Her remaining bravado collapsed in a spate of shuddering, stripping her of the exotic veneer she used to captivate men. She looked like a frightened child.

  He hardened his heart against sympathy. He should have mentioned the workhouse earlier, but he hadn’t thought Mrs. Nichols would have described one.

  It was over. Harriet’s future might lack balls and picnics, but it would be respectable. Given her background, it was satisfactory.

  He opened the door, checked to see that the hall was empty, then led her down the back stairs to his carriage. A note to Miss Beaumont explained her sudden absence.

  * * * *

  By the time Jacob left Inslip House, he was seething. Forcing Harriet to accept the truth had unleashed the rest of his memories.

  He had long blamed Mrs. Nichols for seducing his father, but in truth, his father had not needed seduction. He had been obsessed with her from the moment they’d met – when Major Winters had stood up at his best friend’s wedding. Only his dedication to duty, honed by twenty years in the army, had stayed his hand in the beginning. But with Nichols living next door, it had been impossible to avoid her. It hadn’t taken him long to succumb. The result was Harriet.

  Which returned his thoughts to his own obsession. He’d spent the day devising ways to convince Emily to break her betrothal to Charles. Yet that was the same dishonorable path his father had trod – sweep away all obstacles so he could take what he wanted.

  He couldn’t do it. He could not press her to an act most would consider dishonorable. Nor could he ignore the likelihood that she loved Charles. In many ways Charles was a better man than he. Harriet might have pushed the two together, but Charles was canny enough to avoid such traps if he didn’t want to be caught.

  Ignoring the pain searing his heart, he held his head erect and entered Lady Jersey’s ballroom. He must speak to Charles – to inform him of Harriet’s imminent departure if nothing else – then reinforce the congratulations he had offered Emily at their last meeting. But he must never reveal his love.

  * * * *

  Emily jumped when Jacob suddenly appeared at her side. If not for Sophie, still hanging joyously onto her hand, she might have fallen.

  “My lord.” She nodded in greeting. “Welcome back to town. I trust you settled your emerg
ency.”

  “Yes, thank you. You look well. Betrothal agrees with you.” He turned away without waiting for a response, giving Emily a chance to control her face. If she looked well, it was due to Sophie’s news.

  Jacob noticed Sophie’s excitement. “What happened, Soph? The sun is shining from your eyes.”

  Sophie squeezed Emily’s hand to keep from shouting her joy to the world. “You have to keep this secret,” she warned.

  Jacob nodded.

  “Lord Ashington will speak with Papa tomorrow.”

  “About you, I presume,” he drawled, grinning. “Congratulations. I feared you would never settle.”

  “I’m so excited, I’m bound to give it away.”

  “You won’t,” said Emily.

  “Especially if we discuss something else,” added Jacob, holding out both arms. “Let’s get something to drink while you tell me all the latest gossip. Come along, ladies.”

  * * * *

  Richard watched Jacob lead the girls into the refreshment room, then turned to Charles. “Tomorrow afternoon,” he ordered, picking up their conversation. “Delay will worsen the scandal. Drive Emily to Richmond. I’ll handle the rest.”

  “What about Harriet?”

  “She will be gone – be surprised when Jacob tells you about it. He must have spoken to her or he wouldn’t be here.”

  Charles raised his brows.

  “Later. Concentrate on Emily. You claim you want her happy. This is the only way you can manage it.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Emily watched Kew Gardens slide past as Charles tooled his curricle along the road. She’d been delighted by last night’s invitation to spend an afternoon at Richmond Park. Excitement had sparkled in his eyes, hinting at a surprise.

  Yet today he seemed nervous and unusually quiet, his few comments sounding stilted. She knew he was an excellent whip, so he didn’t have the excuse of needing to concentrate on the horses.

  “Is that the famous pagoda?” she asked, pointing to a slender tower visible beyond the trees.

  “Yes.” He didn’t even turn his head to look.