by Sandra Heath
Jack hesitated, but then something made him follow. Soon he too was gazing through the entrance toward the summerhouse, where Emily and Rafe seemed deep in conversation.
Emily had perceived both of them, but gave no intimation to Rafe as he remarked on how splendid the peacocks were this autumn, especially the white ones, of which the Hall possessed four pair. She smiled and murmured something in reply, she knew not really what.
Bees hummed among the asters that bloomed around the summerhouse, and the autumn sun shimmered on the little raised pool in the very center of the garden. It was the sort of magical moment that should have been shared with someone she loved, not with Sir Rafe Warrender, whom she would marry but would never love.
Her glance moved toward Jack Lincoln’s silhouette in the gateway. Then a wave of anger suddenly washed over her, not only because he and her son were so blatantly watching, but because she wished it were Jack who sat here with her now. But it wasn’t Jack, and it never could be.
Rafe couldn’t help studying her profile. She really was enchantingly lovely. He might almost have married her even if she hadn’t been Felix Reynolds’s daughter! He certainly looked forward to getting her between the sheets. Sooner, rather than later. Could she be persuaded to bring the marriage day forward? He slipped his hand into his right pocket to call upon the aid of his lucky quartz pebble. “You do know that my feelings for you grow deeper each time we meet, don’t you, Emily?”
“Why, Rafe, I...” She gave a weak smile and forced herself to stop thinking about Jack.
Suddenly, he reached for her hand and raised her fingertips to his lips. After carefully kissing each one, he gazed ardently into her eyes. “I will cherish you, Emily. No bride will ever have been more cared for.”
“You are too kind, Rafe.”
“No, my dear, I merely state a fact. I look forward to the moment we are together as man and wife, when I may claim you in the fullest sense of the word.”
Her cheeks became a little pink. “Your eagerness flatters me greatly, and... and I will do all in my power to be a dutiful wife.”
“I know that you expressed a desire to marry on Christmas Eve, but that seems an unconscionable time away.”
“Unconscionable? But it is less than two months.” Please don’t ask me to change it to an earlier date ... Concealing her other hand, she crossed her fingers, a superstitious gesture that was worthy of Rafe himself.
“To me, even a month seems a lifetime,” he declared passionately. “Please let us marry sooner. Much sooner.”
She was so horrified that it was all she could do to hide her reaction. Somehow she managed a trill of teasing laughter. “Sir, you should know better than to expect a bride to hurry her wedding preparations! I have it all planned, and nothing must be permitted to spoil it. For it will be spoiled if things are rushed.”
“But—”
“Please, Rafe. Indulge me. Let me be your perfect bride.” She forced herself to give him a limpid look.
He knew that to press the point would raise her suspicions, so he decided to back down. But as he smiled understandingly, he really felt like shaking her.
“If that is your true wish, my dear, then of course we will leave matters as they are.” He kissed her fingertips again.
Her eyes were drawn to his signet ring—the famous Agincourt ring that Henry V had bestowed upon Rafe’s ancestor in 1415. Something about it puzzled her, but she couldn’t quite think what it was. Suddenly, she realized. The stem of the rose had five thorns, yet there were only four on the ring Geoffrey had sketched!
She remembered particularly because the four had balanced the design quite perfectly; the addition of a fifth robbed it of symmetry. And now she came to really study the ring; it did not seem old enough to have been worn in 1415. The engraving was too clearly defined, and the gold itself too shining and unblemished. It couldn’t possibly be the treasured medieval heirloom.
“You have a new ring?” she asked, unable to help herself even though the abrupt change of subject must have seemed rather pointed.
He was taken unawares. “Why do you ask?”
She thought an odd glint entered his eyes, a sharpening almost. “I notice that it isn’t the one you wore for the portrait Geoffrey was painting. That had four thorns, this has five.”
He stared at her, then let go of her hand in order to look at the ring. “I, er ...” He recovered a little. “How observant you are, my dear, more observant than Geoffrey, as it happens. You see, I lost the original ring at a St. James’s Palace reception two years ago, and was obliged to have this copy made. The fool of a jeweler bungled things at the last moment and had to add the extra thorn to hide his clumsiness. He charged me much less, of course, so I accepted it as it was.”
“Oh, I see. How very unfortunate to have lost the original.”
“Most unfortunate,” he murmured. “However, Geoffrey cannot have noticed when he painted it. Maybe the light was wrong.”
“Yes, that must be it,” she replied, but she knew he was lying. The light in the long gallery was always good, and if there was one thing upon which Geoffrey prided himself, it was his complete accuracy! If he drew four thorns, then four thorns were there, which meant that Rafe had not lost the Agincourt ring two years before in London.
In fact, she recalled that Geoffrey had sketched the hand and ring on the very day of his death. She remembered watching his pencil skim deftly over the canvas; and the thorns, one, two, three, four ... Geoffrey had counted them under his breath, then smiled at her.
Rafe watched her face intently, but her manner soothed him. Damn Geoffrey Fairfield for his slavish attention to detail, he thought, and damn that jeweler to perdition and back for making such an elementary mistake! But the error had been observed now; it was too late to rectify matters. He would have to trust to luck, which, after all, had been on his side for some time now. So he smiled again. “You are making me the happiest man on earth, Emily.”
“Now I know you flatter me,” she replied lightly, wishing he would stop pretending an affection he did not feel. The ring ceased to matter as her glance stole back to the entrance to the garden, and Jack. Oh, Jack...
“But it isn’t mere flattery, for I mean every word,” Rafe protested. He definitely meant every word, for he had his sights upon Felix Reynolds’s fortune! He put a hand to her cheek and made her look at him. “We have not sealed our bargain with a kiss,” he whispered.
She wanted to say no, and to get up to continue the walk, but knew she could not. Just as she also knew she could not have the man she really wanted. With a huge effort she resisted the need to look toward Jack again, and instead gave Rafe a too-bright smile. “A kiss, sir? Yes, of course,” she said softly and leaned toward him.
His hand slid from her cheek into her hair, which felt so warm and seductive against his fingers that he could almost have forgotten himself. But he didn’t forget himself; he was very careful to kiss her offered lips as gently and lovingly as if she had been a virgin on her first tryst. He felt her allure reaching out to him, arousing the passion he knew he must keep in check for the time being. All in good time. He’d have her as often as he liked once she was his wife. And he’d use her for his pleasure, oh, how he’d use her ... So he drew back, a tender smile warming his face, his eyes alight with something she could not read.
As she gazed at him, she had no idea at all that what he really wanted to do was thrust her against one of the columns and take her as if she were a whore lying against a tree in St. James’s Park.
Peering through the wrought iron door, Peter was appalled at what he saw. “How can she kiss him? How can she bear to let him... ?” He bit his lip and had to take a huge breath to keep tears at bay.
Jack put a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder, although he himself was scarcely less upset. “You have to accept it, Peter, for that is the way it is going to be,” he murmured.
Another voice spoke, startling them both. “We cannot permit this nonse
nse to continue, gentlemen. Are we agreed?”
They turned to see Cora standing there. She had observed them from an upper window, and had come down to commence her stratagems. She nodded toward the summerhouse. “It galls me to think of that scoundrel becoming my son-in-law, and I do not think that either of you find it to your liking either. Am I right?”
Jack did not think it was his place to express an opinion, but Peter made his feelings plain. “I don’t want Mama to marry him. She’s far too good for him.”
Cora’s glance encompassed Jack’s silent lips, then returned to her grandson. “Now then, Peter, I wish to have words in private with Mr. Lincoln, so you must leave us.”
“Oh, but—”
“Do as I ask, there’s a good boy.”
Peter looked rebellious for a moment, then gave in, but before hurrying away, he gave Jack an imploring look. “You do promise not to leave without saying good-bye, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t dream of going without taking a proper farewell, Peter.”
Reassured, the boy hastened away.
Cora then confronted Jack. “Have you no opinion of Emily’s dealings with Sir Rafe?”
“It is hardly my business to pronounce on such a matter, Mrs. Preston, especially as I am about to leave Fairfield Hall. Er, urgent business, you understand ...”
“Urgent business? Come sir, we both know why you are expected to leave.”
“Do we?” He felt his cheeks heat up a little with embarrassment, for he had not expected Emily to confide this particular matter.
Cora read his thoughts. “Oh, nothing was actually said, sir, but then it wasn’t necessary. A mother can read her daughter like a book, believe me.”
“Then you will understand why I must go.”
“Sir, it will be over my dead body that you leave this house,” she answered, then added, “especially when I strongly suspect the blame in the matter to be equally apportioned! She doesn’t want Sir Rafe to know anything about you. In fact, she was at great pains to extract my silence on the matter. What do you make of that?”
“I don’t know,” he replied truthfully.
“Then I shall tell you. She has a guilty conscience, sir. She knows she was at fault, and she would prefer to draw a discreet curtain over the whole business.”
“Mrs. Preston—”
“Enough, sir! You did not come here to meekly slip away again, like a cur with its tail between its legs. You came to save us from your cousin, and save us you will!”
Jack stared at her, shaken to the core that she knew he and Rafe were related.
Cora took a step closer. “You do not think Felix wrote a long letter to me without explaining exactly what he wished, do you?”
Jack recovered a little. “If he has told you everything, Mrs. Preston, then you know full well that I gave him my word I would come here and do everything in my power to make you all secure again, secure from debt and from Rafe Warrender. I have already proved a failure, for in a single day I have managed to get myself ordered off the estate. So much for being your secret guardian!”
“Being ordered off the estate and actually going are two very different matters, sir.” Cora’s voice broke slightly, and she blinked back tears. “Felix’s wishes are everything to me, Mr. Lincoln. His letter told me more than I have said, for he confided that he thinks you are the perfect man for Emily. I agree with him, so I beg you not leave, sir. You can still rescue us from the Warrender dragon, and carry Emily off in your manly arms. She does not know it, but she has been waiting all her life for you.”
Neither of them had heard a stealthy step among the bushes that shaded the entrance to the garden; and neither of them had seen Peter part the leaves to listen to all they said. His eyes had widened with each word.
Chapter 23
Cora pursed her lips a little. “We have both been drawn into Felix’s web, Mr. Lincoln, and I for one am determined to see his wishes come to fruition. If you leave the Hall, you will be failing Felix most signally. And you will be failing yourself, to say nothing of Emily, who needs you very much indeed.”
“Mrs. Preston, I do not think your daughter would agree at all; indeed, things between us could hardly be worse.”
“If that is what you think, you clearly do not understand women as well as I imagined from the look of you,” Cora said a little wryly.
“Maybe women have not mattered as much to me until now.”
“I’m very glad to hear it.”
“My cousin is the most abhorrent man on this earth, and I believe I would rather die than permit him to marry Emily,” Jack said frankly, then hastily corrected himself. “I, er, mean Mrs. Fairfield.”
“No, you don’t, sir, you mean Emily.” Cora smiled knowingly. “As to your sentiments regarding Sir Rafe, well, I can well understand. He and Sir Quentin Brockhampton laid false evidence in order to take what was yours, didn’t they? You are the rightful bearer of the blue rose badge he wears with such swagger.” She smiled again. “Oh, yes, Felix’s letter was most informative.”
Among the bushes, Peter’s lips parted.
Jack felt the need to explain his reticence about Rafe. “Mrs. Preston, when I first arrived here, it didn’t seem appropriate to mention the blood tie because of Emily’s imminent betrothal to him. I could hardly say, ‘Oh, apropos of Rafe Warrender, he is the cousin who cheated me of my birthright, and I despise him.’ "
“I quite accept your reason, Mr. Lincoln, but I think you should tell Emily.”
“And blacken myself still more in her eyes?” Jack raised an eyebrow.
“She ought to be made aware.”
“You may think so, Mrs. Preston, but what if I were to say to you that I thought Emily should also know Felix is her father?”
The revelation made Peter gasp.
Cora heard the sound, but did not know what it was or exactly where it came from. “Did you hear that?” she asked uneasily, glancing around, but at that moment a cat slipped out of the garden and ran belly-low up the slope toward the house.
Cora immediately relaxed again and returned her attention to Jack. “I know Emily has to learn my rather shocking secret, Mr. Lincoln, especially when I see daily how much like his grandfather Peter is becoming. They are peas from the same pod, are they not?”
“Yes.”
“So I will tell her soon, and I expect you to do the same.”
He nodded reluctantly. “If that is your advice, then I will act upon it, but I cannot help thinking—"
“I know what I’m talking about in this, sir. Just tell her everything.” Cora inhaled. “Now then, we digress a little by speaking of my secret, for we were discussing the problem of Sir Rafe Warrender. You cannot be aware yet, but Sir Quentin Brockhampton is his guest at the castle.”
“Birds of a feather,” Jack murmured.
“Oh, indeed so. Vultures, I fancy.” Cora drew a long breath. “We must do something about all of this, sir, and to that end we need to pool all our knowledge.”
“There are more of us with knowledge to pool than perhaps you realize,” Jack said, and told her about the message from Cristoval.
“Cristoval? Ah, yes, Felix mentions him, and you spoke of him at dinner last night. Don Cristoval de Soto is his full name, I believe? There is an Indian too, I believe. Er, Manco, or some such name?”
“That’s it. Well, no doubt the presence of a real Peruvian Indian in Temford will make Peter smile for a change. What do you think Don Cristoval has to tell you, Mr. Lincoln?”
“I don’t know, but it must be of importance for them to abandon their stay in London in order to come to Temford. I intend to go to the Royal Oak when I leave here.”
“But you are not leaving here, sir,” Cora pointed out firmly.
“Mrs. Preston—”
“Forget Emily’s wishes in this, sir, for you are my guest, not hers. And I will not hear of Don Cristoval and Manco staying at an inn when there are rooms aplenty at the Hall. No, do not protest anymore, fo
r my mind is made up. You stay here, and so do your friends ... Felix’s friends,” she added pointedly, as if that would put a stop to the nonsense once and for all.
In his leafy hiding place, Peter hugged himself with delight. Manco was going to actually come to the hall? Oh, joy!
But Jack could not leave the matter at that. “Mrs. Preston, in spite of what you say, neither I nor my friends can—"
“Heavens above, Mr. Lincoln, how many times must I make myself clear on this point? You came here ostensibly to see me, and you are therefore my guest, not Emily’s. I will deal with her directly, for I can argue with some justification that she has no right to send my guest away.”
“But she does have the right, Mrs. Preston, because I transgressed in a very grave way.”
“Did you? I rather fancy that you are assuming too much of the blame. Can you state quite categorically that she did not at any point welcome your attentions?”
Peter’s jaw dropped. Attentions? What did Grandmama mean? What had Mr. Lincoln done?
Jack looked away. Could he say it? No, of course he couldn’t. Damn it, he knew Emily had welcomed him.
Cora smiled triumphantly. “You see? You know you have to stay—for everyone’s sake. I am so opposed to Sir Rafe that I can hardly bear even to look at the fellow. I never thought I would stoop to such things as hiding people’s notes, but I even did that today. I would do anything to prevent this marriage, anything at all.” Her glance moved to the pair in the summerhouse. “So let us go over the facts as we know them and see if two heads can make the business more clear.”
So they did just that, listing and discussing until they were sure they had considered everything. But at the end, Cora shook her head in bewilderment. “Why is he so determined to marry her, Mr. Lincoln? Oh, she is beautiful, but I have the strongest instinct that there is much more to this than meets the eye. He is going to inordinate lengths to see that the match comes off. I’m sure it is no coincidence that so many letters of demand come from clients of Sir Quentin Brockhampton! I sometimes think our only friend in all the world is Mr. Mackay, who has put himself out most considerably on our behalf. It is not his fault that all his efforts have been in vain. Apart from him, everyone else has done all they can to make things more difficult and pressing for Emily.”
