In fact, the behaviour of Ambrose brought back a memory that Emmy had pushed to the back of her mind. She remembered Albion calling out to her whilst she was on her way back from a walk. Lady Wyndham and Lady Nightingale had just sealed their betrothal, but Albion had found it appalling that they were to be married without a discussion between themselves. He had come in search of her so he could ask for her hand properly.
She remembered him kneeling on the grass, though it had rained heavily a few hours before. She could picture those striking, green eyes looking up into hers as his hand held hers tightly. With that soft, deep voice of his, he had asked for her hand in marriage, and she had said yes. She would always remember the words he had spoken, so earnestly, whilst the sodden grass soaked into the knee of his trousers. “I will never harm you, Miss Emmeline. I will not be a monster or a tyrant to you but a companion with whom you can share a good life. I adore you, Miss Emmeline, and I hope that, one day, there may be a true love between us. I will do all I can to pave your future with happiness.”
And yet, here was his brother, thinking he could just take Albion’s place. It didn’t work like that. Yes, she had not been in love with Albion in the traditional sense, but she had seen a future with him. With Ambrose, it looked like exactly what it was—a last-ditch attempt to cement a union between Nightingale and Wyndham. There was no affection behind it, or proclamations of adoration and hope; it was just a chance at the jackpot.
“Would you please excuse me, Mr Wyndham? I am not feeling well,” she said, struggling to keep the bitterness out of her voice.
“Miss Emmeline, please do not be cross with me. I just—” Ambrose began to protest, but Emmy had already walked past him, heading for the door.
It wasn’t to be, however. As soon as she had broken away from Ambrose, the master of ceremonies appeared in her face, introducing a Mr Snowley. He was tall and willowy, with fair hair and brown eyes. Although he seemed pleasant enough, Emmy couldn’t bear to stay. She excused herself, only to freeze at the sight of her mother’s stern eyes watching her from the ballroom entrance. Turning back around, she apologised to the gentleman and accepted his request. Wherever she looked, there was no escape.
Gentleman after gentleman asked her to dance, until her card was entirely full. Again and again, she surged into the fray, whirling and turning around her partner, moving forwards and backwards, until her head began to spin. The champagne didn’t help, making her vision blurry and her legs unsteady. Soon all the names began to blur into one, but with each rotation she glimpsed Ambrose in the near-distance, his eyes never leaving her.
It was like a nightmare, destined to never end.
Everywhere she stepped, another man was placed in front of her. A name was barked at her, and she was expected to do her duty. Whenever she tried to go towards the door, gasping that she needed refreshment, her mother stopped her, urging her back into the room. There really was no escape.
Pressing her palm to the hand of yet another unknown gentleman, Emmy began to feel as though she were at a hellish cattle market. She was the prize heifer, being passed from pillar to post without any say in the matter. None of it was being decided by her. Instead, she was being made to endure a whirling dervish of a ballroom in which, upon every twirl and turn, she could see her mother conspiring with the mothers of these gentleman, forcing them together. And when it wasn’t her mother it was Ambrose, reminding her of Lady Wyndham’s scheming.
As a Mr Denholm was placed in front of her, she felt her cheeks flushing with heat, swift nausea rising up her throat. She knew that if she didn’t get outside in the next few moments, she would certainly end up embarrassing her mother.
“Please excuse me, Mr Denholm. I need some fresh air. I am feeling a little faint,” she gasped before staggering towards the exit.
This time, her mother didn’t stop her.
Chapter Four
The baron
Chapter 4
With the sound of the music fading behind her, Emmy stumbled away from the ballroom. Turning down one of the service corridors, which she knew would be empty, she halted sharply.
There, at the end of the hallway, barely illuminated in the dim light, were Nora and Hugh. The brute had her pinned to the wall, his hand around her throat, a murmur of something low and vicious coming from his vile mouth.
Emmy could see the spittle flying as he snarled at Nora. The sight of such cruelty filled Emmy with more rage than she thought herself capable of, and she charged in their direction.
“Let go of her!” she screamed, forcing Hugh’s hand away from her sister’s throat. “How dare you touch my sister in such a way! If I did not think you would strike me back, I should box your ears!” she howled.
Instantly, Hugh stepped backwards, brushing a hand through his overly slicked hair, putting it back into place. It had evidently gone astray during his brutalisation of Nora.
Casually, he cleared his throat. “Goodness me, Miss Emmeline, please accept my sincerest apologies that you were privy to a bit of harmless flirtation between a man and his wife. I believe we may all have consumed one too many glasses of champagne this evening. Would you not agree, Lady Hodge?” he asked, narrowing his beady eyes at Nora.
Nora nodded. “Of course, dear lord. A simple accident—a bit of harmless horseplay, nothing more,” she said dutifully, casting her eyes down to the floor.
Emmy wasn’t fooled; she could see the red marks where he had gripped Nora by the throat, though they were fading quickly.
There was a thickness in her voice too, giving away the pressure Hugh had been putting on her windpipe.
Emmy scowled. “If you have harmed my beloved sister in any way, I shall—”
“I am quite well,” Nora cut in, resting a hand on Emmy’s arm, preventing her from saying anything she might regret. “Perhaps we should take some air to clear our minds? Would that be agreeable, my lord, if my sister and I were to take a turn about the gardens?”
“Is it not a little dark, Lady Hodge?”
Nora smiled sweetly. “We shall only walk where there are lights, my lord. I believe there are two valets on guard duty also, so we will be quite well,” she promised.
Emmy turned towards Hugh, daring him to say no.
“Fine, but be quick about it, and don’t get too close to those valets. You can never be too careful with serving staff,” he barked, the menace clinging to his words.
“A brief wander, then you must return to me. Do I make myself clear, Lady Hodge?”
“Of course, my lord,” Nora replied.
With that, Emmy tugged on Nora’s arm and pulled her in the direction of the house grounds.
Rather than risk being caught on the way out of the front entrance, the two sisters headed down the service corridor, darting discreetly through the kitchens. Mrs Harbour, who was still hard at work piling hors d’oeuvres onto trays, flashed them a suspicious look but said nothing as they hurried for the exit.
A moment later, they emerged at the head of the rose gardens.
The perfume of the blooms was at its strongest here, the scent almost overwhelming to the already nauseous Emmy. She leant back against the stone wall that surrounded the rose beds, steadying herself.
“Why do you permit him to behave that way towards you, Nora?” she asked, once she had caught her breath.
Nora sighed heavily. “He is my husband… There is nothing I can do to prevent him from doing so. As he said, he has consumed a little too much champagne—it makes his temper flare.”
“Your neck, Nora. Look at what he has done to you,” Emmy remarked, her eyes drawn to the livid marks that were still present upon her sister’s pale, alabaster skin. “I should have boxed his ears. What a hateful, disgusting little man!”
“You mustn’t speak that way, Emmy,” Nora warned. “Marriage is a peculiar thing. I would not expect you to understand. I can only implore you, once more, not to fall victim to the same trap I have found myself in.”
A tinge o
f sadness coloured her voice.
Emmy hated to see her beloved sister like this. She could not believe that there was a person on this earth who would treat such a rare, beautiful individual the way Hugh was.
It did not seem right or fair, but she knew she could not do anything to stop it. He was stronger and more powerful than either of them, in both physicality and standing.
“You must tell Papa. He would not stand for it,” Emmy said, an idea springing into her mind.
Nora shook her head. “I cannot, and you must not either. This is between man and wife. Papa cannot get involved. It is no doubt what he would say, if I were to tell him.”
“I have never known Papa to behave in such a manner towards Mama,” Emmy countered. “Surely, there is something he could do?”
“Emmy, I must ask you to leave this alone,” said Nora miserably. “Should it worsen, I will endeavour to speak with father, but for now… you must leave me to it. Promise me you will not speak a word of it?”
Emmy levelled her gaze at her elder sister. She could see the panic and despair on Nora’s face, and though it pained her to agree to the terms, she knew she had to comply. It would only hurt her sister more if she did not.
“Very well. I shall not breathe a word of what I have seen, but I will stand in the way of him if he dares to strike you like that again,” she threatened.
Nora smiled. “I should like to see that. I do believe you took Hugh quite by surprise when you threw him off me,” she said, her tone teasing.
“Good!” Emmy cried, a smile emerging upon her serious face.
“Was there any particular gentleman who took your fancy, this evening? You seemed to be doing a great deal of dancing,” Nora enquired, changing the subject.
Emmy gave an indifferent shrug. “I barely remember any of their names, there were so many. Mama was pushing them in front of me before I had even a chance to finish dancing with the previous suitor,” she bemoaned.
“And then, you shall never guess what, but Ambrose Wyndham chose to act out the will of his mother and attempted a haphazard proposal!”
A strange look passed over Nora’s face, taking Emmy by surprise. She had been expecting a laugh or an exclamation of some sort, but Nora remained silent for several moments.
“Do you not think that is the most brazen, hilarious thing you have ever heard?” Emmy pressed, wanting her sister to say something.
“Of course, how strange,” said Nora, finally, though Emmy could sense her heart wasn’t in it. “Are you certain that is what he was attempting?” she added, her voice oddly tight.
Emmy nodded. “Absolutely certain. I am sure it was his mother’s doing, mind you. It had Lady Wyndham written all over it.”
“Very peculiar indeed,” Nora murmured.
Emmy frowned. “Are you quite well, sister? I thought you would be more amused.”
“I am amused, Emmy. I am just a touch weary after the events of this evening. Please, forgive me,” she replied, flashing a reluctant smile.
Emmy longed to enquire further, wanting to know what it was that had caused such a strange reaction in her sister, but Nora did not give her the chance.
“Anyway, I must return to my husband before he begins to worry. Shall I make an excuse for you so you may have a few moments more?” she asked, gesturing to the gardens.
Emmy nodded gratefully. “That would be most kind, sister. And please, if you see Mama, simply tell her I am unwell and have retired to my chambers for a while. I cannot bear to be forced into another dance or banal conversation with another man whose name I cannot remember,” she said, prompting a genuine chuckle from Nora.
“I will do as you ask, but you must return indoors soon, before you are missed,” Nora warned. “Mama will only be detained for so long. She will come in search of you, whether you claim to be resting or not.”
“I will not be long,” Emmy promised, though she had little intention of returning to the ball.
The thought of returning to that room filled her with dread. If her absence meant a firm punishment from her mother, then she was prepared to face those consequences.
Nora pulled her into a tight embrace before disappearing back through the kitchens.
This time, Emmy heard the unmistakeable sound of Mrs Harbour’s voice, crying: “What in heaven’s name are you two girls up to? Honestly, you would think the pair of you were still children, the way you’re carrying on!”
Emmy laughed at the sound, though her heart immediately turned sour as she heard another voice. It was that of her mother, coming in search of her.
Realising that her mother would easily put the pieces together and that Mrs Harbour would likely reveal where she was, a sudden sense of panic filled Emmy.
Thinking fast, knowing she didn’t have much time, she hurried through the rose gardens, pinching her nose against the overpowering aroma, before finding herself at the top of the rolling lawns of Davenham Park.
Chapter Five
A hermit
Chapter 5
Without wasting another moment, she set off across the grass, heading in the direction of the woodland that lay at the bottom of the lawns, separating the land between Davenham Park and Whitecroft Abbey.
There were no torches here, and Emmy could barely see anything in the pitch black, but still she pressed on, paranoid that her mother was close behind.
Walking down the well-trodden path she had taken countless times before, she slipped stealthily into the darkness of the woods.
Immediately, everything fell silent.
There was a strange, hushed quality to the woodland, which blocked out the sound of music that rippled down from the house.
Feeling emboldened, she walked deeper into the woods, attempting to follow the path she knew well. Her entire life, she had played amongst these trees, but now they were luring her into a false sense of security.
Everything looked different in the dark, and soon Emmy realised she had lost her way.
Ahead, where the bridge ought to have been, a wall of rock rose up out of the ground. In a panic, Emmy turned around, running back the way she had come only to find that she was going the wrong way.
She couldn’t find the path that led out of the woods. Beneath her feet, there was no hard-packed earth, only dense piles of rotten leaves and thick, rank-smelling mud.
Just then, the sound of rustling came from the bushes a short way off. Backing away, she heard a scratching, scraping sound to her right, forcing her to move in the opposite direction. To her left, a twig snapped, the echo ricocheting like a gunshot.
She stumbled, struggling to get back to her feet as the rustling grew more intense, the leaves shaking.
“Who goes there?” she cried, remembering the tales her older brother used to tell her about vagrants and ne’er-do-wells lingering in the woods after dark.
She wished she had remembered those stories before she set foot in the woods, but now it was too late.
She was lost and alone, about to meet a grisly end at the hands of hiding criminals.
A screech went up from the eerie gloom, sending a shiver of fear up Emmy’s spine. Feeling hot tears welling in her eyes, she crept backwards, but it only seemed to aggravate the shaking leaves.
With every step she took, the rustling grew louder.
A split second later, another twig snapped, making her jump, her nerves jangling.
“Who goes there?” she shouted again, feeling unbearably vulnerable. “Show yourselves!”
Something darted between the trunks of the trees ahead of her, but when she turned to run another shadow moved in the darkness.
All around her, the world filled with terrible sounds, each of them snapping and clanging in her ears. Whenever she moved something else moved too.
Suddenly, there was a blood-curdling scream. It echoed through the night, followed by a second one. It was an ungodly, unearthly sound, making Emmy cover her ears with her hands as she willed it to go away. The rustling grew lou
der, and the shapes between the trees darted faster and faster, coming towards her.
Whatever it was, it would be upon her at any moment.
All she could do was squeeze her eyes shut, cover her ears with her hands, and hope it would be over quickly.
Instead of the impact of her impending doom, however, she heard the sound of a commotion, followed by a distinct, high-pitched yelp. She opened her eyes, just in time to see a strange figure sprinting out of the trees wielding a stick in his hands. He was headed straight for her.
Lady of a Recluse Earl Page 4
