“No, thank you,” she blurted out, unable to bear the idea of enduring such a thing.
Silence greeted her refusal until at last she made herself meet his gaze. But rather than the pity she’d feared to see there, only understanding was visible.
“Marriage to the right man would solve many of your problems. It could provide you with security for your future.”
“No.” She backed up a step only to bump into the chair she’d recently vacated. Remaining standing seemed impossible so she dropped into it.
He narrowed his eyes, looking at her curiously. “Why?”
“What I need is a position. A husband is of no help to me.”
“I disagree.”
“How would you know? You’ve never had a husband, nor do you know anything about what my family needs.”
He folded his arms over his chest as he propped a hip against the desk. “Do you refer to the overdue rent? Or perhaps to the money owed to the doctor?”
Outrage made Emma’s hands shake and her heart pound. She allowed that to push back her embarrassment. “Have you been spying on us?”
“What of your sister? Is she recovering from her illness?”
Emma stood again, anger lending her strength. “How dare you!” She leaned forward to put her face in his, wanting to grab the lapels of his jacket and shake him. “Who do you think you are?”
He leaned forward as well until his nose was a mere breath from hers. “I believe I’m the one person trying to help you.”
“By spying on us?”
He unfolded his arms, and she startled when she felt his finger trail on the underside of her chin. His touch unsettled her nearly as much as what he’d done. “I want to help you,” he whispered.
She did her best to ignore his touch. “Why?”
His finger stilled at her simple question. “Does it matter?”
She jerked back. Wasn’t that what she’d told herself the first time she’d come here? That it didn’t matter? Then why did it? Because this man mattered. She couldn’t say why, but Michael mattered far more than she should’ve allowed him to.
Michael stared at Emma, realizing he couldn’t answer her question. He wasn’t completely sure why he was helping her. Of course it was because he needed to keep an eye on her to see if Professor Grisby contacted her. But there was more to it than that. What exactly, he couldn’t say. Perhaps it was their shared past. Perhaps it was because he felt sorry for her. Yet none of that seemed quite true.
Something in the golden depths of her brown eyes pulled at him. When he was this close to her—
He drew back, unwilling to complete that thought. This was a business arrangement and his job was to gain her agreement to the plan. If that required him to create a reason she’d believe, so be it.
As Ashbury had pointed out, discovering any sign of Professor Grisby would be much easier if they had his niece under close surveillance. The rest of her family had proven fairly easy to watch as they moved about very little. If Michael had to guess, the professor would contact Emma rather than her other family members. She’d been their anchor since Michael had first met them.
“I’d merely like to help an old friend.” When she looked unconvinced, he added, “You and your family need assistance and I am in the position to do so. It’s not so different than when your uncle was kind enough to aid me.”
That excuse seemed to take hold. The crease in her brow eased but then returned before he could draw a breath of relief.
“I don’t see how this could possibly work. I don’t even want a husband.”
“Financial security for the rest of your life seems a fair trade for you to serve as companion for a man of your choosing.”
“My choosing?” Her shock would’ve been amusing under other circumstances.
“Of course. You don’t think I’d select him, do you? That’s up to you.”
“What if I don’t...find a man who I think is appropriate?”
“You can leave at any time and return to your search for a governess post.” Within a few weeks, he and Ashbury should’ve determined whether her uncle lived and if so, what he was doing. After that, she could return to her life and continue serving as a governess as far as he was concerned. This was a temporary business arrangement. No matter that a tightness filled his chest at the thought of her walking away.
Her gaze flitted around the room, much like a butterfly that couldn’t decide where to land. “I would have nothing to wear.”
He couldn’t help but smile for he hadn’t expected to hear such a normal female complaint pass her lips. “My grandmother will assist you in selecting the proper attire, and I’ll see to the cost.”
“No. I couldn’t possibly accept such generosity.” Her lips formed into the stubborn line with which he was becoming annoyingly familiar. “I have no way to repay it.”
An idea took hold, one he felt certain would end her argument and give him what he wanted as well. “I offer you a trade. My grandmother is quite lonely and in need of companionship as well as a project. Assisting you in this endeavor would solve both of those issues.”
He could see that she weighed the validity of his comments, and he pushed harder. “Having an intelligent, educated person spend time with my grandmother would bring her much joy and bring me peace of mind. I couldn’t put a price on that.”
She shook her head, but he could see that she seriously considered his idea. Her aura remained clear, however, giving him no hint as to her intent. “I would have to think on it further.”
Michael waited a few moments before offering a few more details, hoping to make her more comfortable. He believed in full disclosure in his business dealings, at least when it benefited him. “It would be more convenient if you stayed with my grandmother. In addition to assisting you in selecting the appropriate gowns and necessities, she has connections with those in the ton who host balls and other events. She could garner the proper invitations for you.”
She bit the fullness of her bottom lip. The gesture woke an awareness inside him that he didn’t welcome.
“As I said, I need to think about it and consider what’s best for my family.”
“Of course.” He didn’t want her to think about it too long. He needed her somewhere he could watch her as quickly as possible. “May I suggest you meet my grandmother on the morrow to aid you in your decision?”
She blinked as though surprised but nodded, giving him a small victory. However, he had a feeling the battle was far from over.
~*~
Emma drew a deep breath, oddly nervous to broach the subject Viscount Weston had proposed with her family. Now was the perfect opportunity. They all sat in the bedroom so they could eat with Tessa. The soup they shared was more like hot water than soup. No meat in sight, only a bit of onion and cabbage to give it some flavor. That was a good reminder of why she needed to seriously consider his suggestion.
She set down her bowl on the small table beside the bed. “As all of you know, I met with Viscount Weston today. He had an interesting proposal.”
“What would that be?” Her mother tilted her head to the side. Emma felt as though her mother looked directly into her heart. Not for the first time, she wondered what she saw.
“Yes, please tell us.” Tessa asked as her spoon clattered into her empty bowl.
Without thinking twice, Emma rose and poured half of her soup into Tessa’s bowl despite Tessa’s protest then the remainder into Patrick’s. “I’m not hungry. I had tea at the viscount’s.” She lied with a smile.
Patrick nodded and quickly ate, but Tessa watched her with narrowed eyes.
“As I was saying,” Emma continued, “the viscount advised me that his grandmother is in need of a companion.” Her throat clutched at the half lie, yet she couldn’t bring herself to tell them the full truth.
“That could be interesting, assuming she’s nice. Do you know her?” Tessa asked.
“I meet her tomorrow.” Her stomach tightened at the
thought, and she was glad she hadn’t finished her soup.
“What would your duties be?” her mother asked.
“She lives alone, so I would keep her company, read to her and the like. The interesting thing is she’d like someone to attend balls and other social events with her.” She dropped her gaze, berating herself for twisting the truth. Why didn’t she just tell them the viscount had offered to help her find a husband? Was it because she feared the mission would be a failure? How could she possibly attract a man, especially one who was a member of the ton?
“Oh, that’s marvelous,” Tessa exclaimed. “But what will you wear?”
“The proper attire would come with the position. The viscountess would assist me in selecting a few gowns and the viscount would take care of the cost.”
“That’s very generous,” her mother said. But Emma could tell by her tone she hadn’t yet determined if this was a good idea or not.
Emma felt the same way.
“Would you have to stay with her?” Patrick asked with a frown.
“Yes.” When his lips twisted in a scowl, she added, “It’s no different than if I were to find a governess post.”
“True, but we miss you terribly when you’re gone,” Tessa said as she shared a disappointed look with Patrick.
“I know, and I miss all of you as well. But she doesn’t live too far away, so I should be able to visit often.”
“Does the position pay well?” her mother asked.
Emma hesitated. It wouldn’t pay much of anything unless she got a husband. How could she possibly explain that? “I believe so, but I’ll know more after I speak with the viscountess directly.”
“It don’t seem like a good idea to me,” Patrick grumbled.
“It doesn’t,” Emma corrected him. “Why not?”
“You’ll be livin’ in some fancy place, wearin’ fancy clothes. You don’t belong in a place like that.”
The tightening of her stomach turned to full blown panic. Patrick was right. She didn’t belong there. She’d be trading her governess disguise for a different one. How was that improving anything? In truth, this was a gamble. Would she be better off continuing her search for a governess position so she could earn wages sooner?
Her gaze traveled around the small room, catching on Tessa. Her sister’s eyes were far too big in her pale, thin face. The prominent bones of her wrist were visible because her night gown was too small. Emma looked at Patrick who wore clothes that not only had been mended and patched too many times but that he’d outgrown. Already, she and her mother worked their fingers to the bone.
The truth was, they couldn’t continue like this. The viscount was right—her governess post barely paid the rent, let alone adequate food or the doctor’s bill.
Resolve formed inside her, pushing away her doubt.
“I’d remind you that we don’t belong here either, Patrick.”
His eyes widened at her tone.
“We belong in a good home with plenty of food. If this helps us move to that, then I will gladly do it.”
Patrick dropped her gaze and nodded but still didn’t look pleased at the idea.
“Can you imagine what it will be like attending a ball?” Tessa sighed. Emma could’ve hugged her for shifting the conversation. “The music, the gowns, the decorations. You must describe it all to me.”
“I don’t think—”
“Oh!” Tessa cried out. “What if you meet a man at a ball? He might fall in love with you and—”
“I hardly think that’s possible,” Emma interrupted her. She spoke the truth. She didn’t see how she could manage to draw a man’s interest in that way. It would be a challenge, especially considering how long she’d been perfecting the art of not attracting them.
“It could happen,” Tessa said, refusing to give up on the idea.
“Emma, you shouldn’t do anything you’re not comfortable with,” her mother reminded her.
“Of course not,” Emma agreed. Yet already she felt uncomfortable. But hadn’t her uncle always told her that growth in one’s character came from such situations?
Her mother picked up the mending on her lap, her hands never still. “I suppose it won’t hurt to meet the viscountess.” Her gaze met Emma’s. “You’ve always been a good judge of character. Meeting her will help you make your decision.”
“We’ll know more tomorrow then.” Her stomach fluttered at the thought.
~*~
Michael scanned the crowded ballroom that evening, looking for his fiancé, Miss Catherine Vandimer. With everything going on of late, he’d neglected her and was certain she’d remind him of it.
At last he spotted her speaking with several acquaintances, most of whom were men. Her popularity with the male species had not diminished despite their engagement. He knew her behavior was rather flirtatious, and he realized he’d have to speak to her about it if it continued. Never would he allow her to make a fool of him as his parents had done to each other.
As he watched her, doubt reared its ugly head once again. For some reason, he still couldn’t imagine spending the rest of his life with Catherine.
He reminded himself that she was an attractive woman who would suit him well. Her blonde hair was artfully woven into a chignon. The deep blue satin gown reflected candlelight which was echoed by the diamond and sapphire necklace she wore, one of the many generous gifts from her wealthy father. Her beauty carried an edge, and he well knew her blue eyes could turn to frost at the slightest provocation. She was no timid wallflower.
As she leaned toward one of the men much too closely, he realized he didn’t feel even the slightest pang of jealousy. Perhaps the seeds of destructive love that his parents had shown so often had bypassed him. He could only hope so.
His parents’ public displays of affection and arguments had been fodder for the gossip in ballrooms for years. That sort of attention was something he had no desire to illicit. He went out of his way to make certain his behavior was above reproach. Catherine would need to learn to do the same.
Michael made his way toward her, nodding at familiar faces as he passed.
Catherine caught sight of him and smiled but didn’t move away from the man with whom she spoke, Lord Dalton. As she glanced to the lord again with an even bigger smile, Michael couldn’t help but wonder if she hoped to rouse some sort of jealous outburst from him.
“Miss Vandimer.” He took the hand she offered and brought it to his lips.
“My lord,” she said as she dipped her head in acknowledgement. “You remember Lord Dalton?”
“Good evening,” Michael said with a nod. He knew the other man vaguely from his activities at the House of Lords.
“Weston. Good to see you.” Dalton flashed a charming smile. Michael didn’t miss the heated look Dalton gave Catherine.
“I’d nearly given up on seeing you this week,” Catherine continued.
“My apologies. My schedule took an unexpected turn.” Her aura was dim, and he wondered what task she’d set for herself that wouldn’t come to fruition.
“Nothing bad, I hope.” She smiled, her brown eyes holding his.
He shook his head. “Shall we find some refreshments?”
They bid Lord Dalton goodbye and Michael offered her his arm. Catherine glanced up at him from under her lashes as though trying to gauge his mood. “You’ll never guess who was here earlier.”
“Who?” he asked. Catherine’s pleasure at gossiping bothered him. Though he well knew most people here enjoyed talking about each other, that same gossip had kept the memory of the outrageous behavior of his parents alive for far too long.
“The Earl of Berkmond. They say he hasn’t been seen since his wife died in childbirth several years ago.”
“Interesting,” Michael said as his mind churned. The earl was Lucas’s older brother. He’d liked to speak with him to see if he had any news of Lucas. Now that Michael had been reunited with Ashbury, memories of the three of them together often came to h
im. Lucas had fled to Brazil as soon as he healed well enough for the journey and had yet to return to English soil.
“The crowd was quite excited at his appearance. Do you know him?” Catherine asked as they reached an alcove where a servant offered lemonade.
“I attended Cambridge with his brother.”
“Oh?” She bit her lower lip, the gesture similar to Emma’s from earlier. But he felt nothing—no pang of awareness, no desire to nibble that lip himself.
How very odd.
Michael focused his thoughts on the conversation but refrained from adding more information, knowing full well anything he said would be repeated to her friends on the morrow, much like a well-oiled machine.
Instead, he turned his attention to the men in the room, wondering if Emma would find any of them appropriate. He intended to leave introductions to his grandmother but somehow he couldn’t picture the little grey mouse amongst the sparkling occupants of the room.
If both his grandmother and Emma agreed, the next few weeks would prove interesting for all of them. He couldn’t quite suppress the smile that thought brought.
~*~
Michael eyed the woman who sat across from him in his carriage the next day, wondering what was going through her mind. Emma looked as though she posed for someone as her posture was perfect, her hands folded demurely in her lap. Though her features were even, he detected the sizzle of nerves around her. Her aura showed nothing, but that told him she hadn’t yet made up her mind whether or not to pursue this endeavor.
“You’re staring again,” she said as she turned her head to glare at him.
He frowned. She seemed ridiculously sensitive any time he looked at her. “My grandmother is looking forward to meeting you.”
She swallowed hard, another hint to her nervousness. “I look forward to it as well.”
He considered reassuring her that his grandmother was quite a pleasant person, but the carriage drew to a stop. He still wasn’t sure if the two women would find each other agreeable. No need to add to the lies he’d already told her to lead her this far.
Passionate Secrets (The Secrets Trilogy Book 2) Page 6
