by Diana Bold
He held her for a few more minutes, then sighed and helped her to stand. “Shall we go and face our friends?”
She nodded, but she feared something had changed between them. Michael seemed to regret his actions far more than she did.
* * *
Michael didn’t know how he managed to get through the next two hours. Julian, of course, was wickedly amused by the entire situation and tried to avert everyone’s embarrassment with levity. Michael, however, was in no mood for his friend’s good-humored jabs.
It was no laughing matter.
His complete inability to control himself where Emma was concerned shamed him to the very depths of his soul.
To make matters even worse, Emma no longer seemed properly chagrined. She’d recovered from her own embarrassment with remarkable ease and returned Julian salacious jibes with a few wicked remarks of her own.
Michael thought of the immoral crowd she’d associated with before he’d met her, and dread filled him. The prince and his set thought nothing of a woman taking lovers once she’d secured her husband’s line with the requisite sons.
Did Emma feel as they did?
Unable to bear her bright gaiety any longer, he pretended that he needed to discuss something with Julian and sent the two women home in his coach. Unfortunately, that meant stranding himself with his amused friend, which was almost as bad.
“Well.” After they’d seen the girls off, Julian hid a smile and poured them both a stiff drink. “It seems as though you and Miss Marks’ courtship is proceeding smashingly well.”
Michael accepted the drink, though he shot Julian a fulminating glare over the rim as he drained it. The brandy pooled in his stomach in a hot rush. He’d never been much of a drinker, but it seemed a fitting end to this evening’s deplorable behavior.
“A gentleman would let the matter rest,” he snapped. “He certainly wouldn’t be sniffing around for more details.”
“Lucky for you, I’m not a gentleman then, isn't it?” Julian leaned forward and refilled Michael’s glass, raising an eyebrow at the speed with which he’d downed it. “Because I can’t let this rest until I’m certain you’ll stop feeling guilty over what happened. Hell, I’m happy to see you’re human. She’s good for you. You know that, don’t you?”
Michael shook his head. “I was starting to think so, but now I’m not so sure. Christ, I can’t think of anything except bedding her.”
Julian laughed.
“It’s not funny. I completely lost control tonight. What if it had been someone other than you and Jane to open that door?”
“Well, it wasn’t, so stop berating yourself. Emma obviously isn’t sorry about what happened, so why should you be?”
“That’s another thing,” Michael admitted, his need to keep his feelings to himself eclipsed by the need to talk to someone about was truly bothering him. “She’s the most passionate woman I’ve ever known. I fear if she starts straying outside our marriage I won’t be able to bear it.”
“You love her,” Julian observed soberly.
Michael closed his eyes, stunned to realize how close Julian was to the truth. He scrubbed his hand over his face in dismay. “I certainly didn’t feel this insane protectiveness over Natalia.”
Julian sighed. “Why are you so certain Emma will stray?”
“They all stray,” Michael muttered, putting his worst fears into words. “My mother—” He broke off and shook his head. “She was repeatedly unfaithful to my father. In fact, I think that’s why he’s so bitter, so unable to love anyone. Even his own children.”
Julian frowned and tossed back the contents of his glass. “I’m sure the earl was an insufferable bastard long before he met your mother. And you mustn’t judge her too harshly. You haven’t the slightest idea what drove her to take a lover, if she really did. Besides, your parents have absolutely nothing to do with your future bride.”
Michael held out his glass for yet another refill. “I don’t know how everything got so complicated.”
“Such is life.” Julian shrugged philosophically. “You should be in my shoes, my friend. At least you and Emma are starting with a clean slate. I have a decade of past sins to atone for where Jane is concerned.”
Julian’s words startled Michael out of his own despair. “You can’t mean to make her your mistress. She’s an innocent. A lady.”
It was Julian’s turn to glare. “Is it so inconceivable that my intentions for Lady Jane might be honorable?”
“Yes,” Michael answered, his surprise making him tactless. “You told me just the other day you never intended to marry.”
“I said I never intended to marry someone I didn’t love.” Julian shook his head and strode across the room, turning his back on Michael as he stared out the window. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved Jane. I admit it scared the hell out of me.” He met Michael’s gaze over his shoulder. “So I walked away. I lost everything because I didn’t have the courage to trust her.”
Michael looked away, unsure what to say in the face of his friend’s obvious pain.
Julian sighed. “Don’t let your past ruin your future,” he admonished. “That’s hard-won wisdom, so don’t take it lightly.” Then, he turned and strode from the room, leaving Michael alone to ponder his words.
* * *
“There it is, Emma. Your new home.” Jane pointed out the coach window at a huge dark mansion of Tudor design. The house crouched high upon a hill, glowering down upon the village below like a disapproving father.
Emma leaned forward for a better look and was beset by an intense surge of dismay. She was unsure what she’d expected, but it wasn’t this crumbling relic of a bygone age.
She’d hoped for a romantic storybook castle, something along the lines of her father’s lavish Newport estate. Sherbourne Hall looked positively ancient, lacking even the most basic of modern conveniences.
“It’s rather depressing, isn’t it?” Emma glanced across the coach at Jane, looking for reassurance.
Jane gave her a wry smile. “I’ve been here a time or two. It’s not as bad as it looks. But the house is over two hundred years old, and Sherbourne hasn’t had much money to spare on maintenance.”
The coach entered the village, and the coachman slowed to navigate the cobblestone street. Dozens of people had turned out, waving and craning their necks to catch a glimpse of the viscount’s future bride.
“At least the village looks prosperous.” Emma waved back, a little overwhelmed by her reception.
“Most men I know put the needs of the people who live on their estates at the bottom of their list of priorities,” Jane commented. “But you can tell Sherbourne always puts his tenants first. That says a lot about the kind of man he is.”
Emma reached out to take a bouquet of flowers from a little girl who ran alongside the coach, then collapsed back against the velvet cushions. “I never doubted that Michael is responsible. In fact, I fear he’s too responsible.”
Michael had obviously poured all his available resources into caring for those who depended on him. Even from this distance, she could tell that the paint on Sherbourne Hall was peeling, yet the houses in the village looked freshly whitewashed. The children who darted about the lane looked healthy and well cared for. A stark contrast to some of the filthy urchins they’d passed in other towns during the long trip up from London.
Jane laughed. “First he was too perfect. Now he’s too responsible?”
“He’s just so serious.” Emma shrugged. “I wish he’d relax and enjoy himself sometimes.”
“Well, he certainly looked as though he was enjoying himself the other night.”
Heat rose in Emma’s cheeks. An entire week had passed since the night Jane and Julian had interrupted her passionate encounter with Michael, yet this was the first time Jane had brought it up.
“That was very wrong of me.” Emma turned her attention to the window. Her gaze fastened on her father, who’d chosen to make the trip on horseb
ack. He was in his element, visiting with some of the townspeople. She couldn’t help but wonder if he’d look so proud if he knew what she’d done. “I should not have let things go so far.”
“Nonsense. You’re engaged to the man, for goodness sake.” Jane leaned forward and gave Emma’s hand a comforting squeeze. “I’m happy for you, Emma. Truly.”
“And what about you?” Emma asked as the coach started up the long tree-lined drive that led to Sherbourne Hall. “Have you decided to forgive Julian?”
“Perhaps I already have,” Jane admitted. “But I’m a long way from ever trusting him again.”
The coach pulled up at the front of the house, ending their discussion, but Emma made a mental note to finish it later. Nothing would please her more than to see her friend happily married to Julian.
Everyone from the butler to the lowest scullery maid had come out to greet their new mistress. Emma eyed the silent row of servants with apprehension while she waited for the footmen to open the coach door. She was used to having servants at her beck and call, but there was a big difference between the Irish immigrants her family had employed an Englishman who’d been born and bred for the job.
No one in the world could be quite as haughty and condescending as an English butler.
Taking a deep breath, she shared a bracing look with Jane and then alighted from the coach. Michael stood near the front door, hands clasped behind his back in that oh-so regal posture he managed so well. His golden hair gleamed in the sunlight, and the hint of a smile softened his aristocratic features as he strode forward to meet her.
“Welcome to Sherbourne Hall.” He caught her hand and brushed her knuckles with his lips. “I hope you’ll come to love it as much as I do.”
“I’m sure I will,” she replied with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. “But it looks as though it will take a lot of work to restore it to its former glory. No wonder you are so eager to marry someone like me.”
He gave her a searching look. “It may have started out that way, but at the moment, this marriage doesn’t seem such a sacrifice. It’s good to see you, Emma. I missed you.”
She laughed, thoroughly pleased, though all too aware of the audience of servants. What she wouldn’t have done for just a few moments of privacy with her future husband.
“Oh, Michael,” she whispered, for his ears alone. “I missed you, too. And you’re getting much better at sweet words.”
His blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “I can’t decide if you bring out the best in me, or the worst.”
Emma’s father chose that moment to arrive on his gleaming black gelding, ruining the moment. “Sherbourne,” he boomed, dismounting with fluid grace and handing the reins to a nearby groom. “Quite a place you have here, son. Quite a place.”
“Thank you, sir.” Michael’s remote façade slid back into place. “How was your ride down from London?”
“Oh, fine. Fine indeed. Nothing quite as invigorating as a ride in the country.” Jack patted his horse’s flank as the groom led the fine beast away. “This is shaping up to be the most relaxing vacation I’ve had in years.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Michael told him, a small smile working its way on his lips. Emma had the feeling that her fiancé enjoyed her father, though he didn’t always know quite how to take him.
Michael greeted Jane warmly, then turned and offered Emma his arm. “I thought I’d introduce you to the servants and then give you a tour of the hall.”
She raised a brow. “Does this mean I finally get a chance to see your artifacts?”
He squeezed her arm and gave her a covert wink. “I thought I’d save that for later. Perhaps after dinner? Just the two of us?”
She nodded, knowing he was right. Their shared interest in history could be the start of something rare and wonderful. She didn’t want to spoil her first glimpse of Michael’s collection by having Jane and her father looking on, bored by their conversation.
Michael drew her to a stop in front of the row of servants. “Miss Emma Marks,” he said, pitching his voice to be heard by all. “My fiancée, the future Viscountess Sherbourne.”
* * *
After showing Emma, Jane, and Jack Marks around the estate, Michael returned his bride to the lavish bedroom that had once belonged to his mother, so she could have a bit of a rest before dinner.
He couldn’t explain the relief he’d felt upon greeting her coach. He supposed the unease he’d experienced while they’d been apart could be attributed to the fiasco with Natalia. Emma’s arrival had put the last of his fears to rest.
Tomorrow, Emma would be his wife. Nothing could come between them now.
It would be an altogether different sort of wedding than he’d originally planned. Just family and a few close friends, with his own father notably absent, but he was well pleased with the way things had turned out.
This was how he wanted to start his life with his wife, here, where he intended to spend most of it. Let the gossips of the ton find something else to talk about. They didn’t belong here, at his wedding.
He contemplated grabbing a quick moment of rest himself, but then he heard another coach coming up the drive. He glanced out his bedroom window and saw that this one bore the insignia of his mother’s clan.
Dylan.
Michael rushed downstairs and out the door to greet his brother, smiling like a fool as Dylan climbed out of the coach and turned to help his beautiful wife.
Michael strode forward, embracing his sister-in-law as his gaze locked with his brother’s. “I’m glad you came.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Dylan shot a quick glance toward the house, and Michael noted his brother’s tension. “Has the earl already arrived?”
Touched that his brother had come despite his obvious distaste for their father, Michael put him at ease. “We had a bit of a row about your invitation. I told him if you weren’t welcome in his home, he wasn’t welcome in mine.”
Dylan’s eyes widened. A dozen emotions flickered in the clear gray depths before he threw back his head and laughed. “Did you now? I would’ve liked to have been there for that.”
“Well, it wasn’t pretty,” Michael conceded. “But after the way he’s been treating my bride, I think things worked out for the best.”
Dylan and Natalia shared a quick unreadable glance. Michael longed for such intimacy. What would it be like to know Emma so well they could share an entire conversation with a look?
“Well, come in. Let me get you settled before dinner.”
He turned for the house, but Dylan reached out and stopped him. “I need to talk to you, Michael. As soon as possible.”
Something in his brother’s manner sent apprehension spiraling into the pit of his stomach. “That sounds serious.”
“More serious than you can imagine,” Dylan told him, uncharacteristically somber.
“Let’s go inside. I can’t wait for you to introduce us to Miss Marks.” Natalia gave Dylan a quelling glance, then offered Michael a weak smile. “We can deal with all this unpleasantness later. After the wedding.”
Dylan nodded, the very picture of a man who thought the sun rose and set in his wife. “Of course, Natalia is right. There will be plenty of time for us to talk after the wedding.”
Michael gave his younger brother one last measuring look, then led them toward the house. “After the wedding,” he agreed. “There’s no room for unpleasantness tonight.”
Chapter Nine
As soon as the servants finished unpacking Emma’s trunks, she sent them away and sank down in the middle of the huge four-poster bed. Much to her dismay, the bedroom she’d been assigned was decorated in peach and yellow. Emma had never been a pastel sort of girl. She’d always preferred jewel tones over pastels and found this room the most depressing part of the entire house.
It had been hard to keep nodding and smiling during Michael’s tour. The rooms were huge and dark, drafty even though it was nearly summer. The pee
ling wallpaper, dark furniture, and massive fireplaces did little to dispel the gloom. Worst of all, there were no gas lights or piped hot water.
She supposed she could manage to make the place livable, once she had access to her dowry, but it seemed a great waste of time and money.
Surely, Michael didn’t intend to make this their primary residence? She had no desire to rusticate in the country for the rest of her life.
It had become frighteningly clear that she didn’t know the man she’d agreed to marry at all. She’d imagined a life of travel and adventure, so sure that Michael wanted those things, too.
What if he didn’t?
What if he truly wanted to live the life of a country aristocrat, seeing to his tenants and throwing the occasional house party? Such a life would sap her spirit. She might even grow to hate him in the long run.
Shivering, she pulled the satin counterpane up over her shoulders and snuggled deeper into the feather mattress. Soon she grew toasty warm, and her fears receded.
Somehow, she and Michael would manage to work things out. If there was one thing she was sure of, it was Michael’s desire to please her.
* * *
After dinner that night, the small group of wedding guests adjourned to the music room, where Natalia and Jane took turns entertaining everyone. Natalia excelled at playing the piano and possessed a lovely singing voice, while Jane played the harp like an angel.
Emma, meanwhile, was forced to admit she had no musical skill whatsoever, a fact she proved in a decidedly flat rendition of “Greensleeves.”
Julian teased her good-naturedly and told Michael he must trade her in for someone more accomplished.
She would have found his jest far more amusing if not for the lingering jealousy she still harbored toward her lovely sister-in-law. She couldn’t forget Michael had once wanted to make Lady Natalia his wife.
As it turned out, Natalia and Jane were distant cousins, so they’d spent the entire meal chattering about various mutual acquaintances. Emma knew they weren’t trying to exclude her, but she felt excluded nonetheless.
