The Suitable Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 2)

by Aminadra, Karen

  Frances winced as she saw the fire ignite in James’ eyes. “You say that to me? How can you be so cruel, Franny?”

  “I am not being cruel, James. I am merely stating a fact.” She stared emotionless ahead of her. She did not wish to speak anymore. All she wanted was for James to tell her what he was going to do.

  “You break my heart, Franny.”

  She did not reply, although she heard the sounds of snivelling and weeping. The more he cried, the more she began to despise him and question how she could ever have found him tempting in the first place.

  “Please, Franny…” he whimpered and reached out to take hold of her arm.

  She snatched it away. “Don’t touch me!”

  She felt rather than saw him slump back in his seat. She knew he was deeply injured. But what was that to her? Surely he realised their love affair could never be any more than simply that. Frances did not know what he was thinking, but she hoped he was coming to his senses.

  “I could…” he spoke so quietly that Frances was not sure that he spoke at all.

  She waited to see if he would continue.

  “I could tell your father, as I said I would.”

  She wanted to turn round and slap his face, but she did not wish to give him the satisfaction of seeing he touched a raw nerve.

  “In fact, I may go to him, this very night. Perhaps I will have the carriage turn around and go back to Mayfair this instant.”

  Still Frances did not move.

  “What would he say to you, Franny? Would he be angry with you? Would he be disappointed in you?” His voice changed to a snarl. “Or would he recognise you for the whore that you are?”

  That produced a reaction. She turned on him and lifted her hand to strike him, but he was faster than she. He had anticipated her. He grabbed her by the wrist, squeezing so tightly that he bruised her delicate pale flesh. “James,” she gasped, “you are hurting me!”

  “Now, you listen to me, and you listen well.”

  Frances was frightened now. The tears welled up in her eyes and she nodded to him as she was listening.

  “This will not simply go away. Do you hear me?”

  Again, she nodded that she heard.

  “I see what a manipulative hussy you are now. You used me for your own sport.” He spat, the vein in his temple standing out as he shook her in his distress. “You disgust me, but I will not simply disappear into the woodwork. You are mine, Frances Davenport.”

  “Please! You’re hurting me, James!”

  “I don’t care anymore. Why should I care if I hurt you or not? You did not care that you hurt me, did you?”

  Frances began to fear that he would strike her.

  James reached up and thumped on the top of the carriage with his free fist. “Back to Mayfair!” he commanded.

  “What are you going to do?” The panic was evident in Frances’ words.

  “Are you scared, Frances? Are you afraid I’ll tell your father?” His eyes held a frenzied glint.

  She nodded her head. She truly was afraid of him.

  “Good. Do you know, I believe that is the first honest thing you’ve said to me since we met.” He looked her up and down with disgust. “You are beautiful, to be sure, but you are rotten to the core.” He moved nearer and nearer to her, and Frances was petrified he would take her by force. He stopped so close that she could practically feel his lips upon hers. He remained thusly, motionless, seeming to enjoy the fear he roused in her.

  The carriage slowed down as it drew up in front of the Davenport home, and Frances was caught unawares as James flung the door open and hurled her towards it, tossing her onto the floor of the carriage. “Get out of my sight,” he growled as she clambered to her feet and scuttled out and onto the pavement of the street. “You have not heard the last of me, Frances Davenport. I will be compensated for what you have put me through. You mark my words, I will be one way or another. The choice is entirely yours.”

  Before Frances even had a chance to grasp what he said, he slammed the door, and the carriage bolted away into the night. She looked around, grateful no one was present to see what had passed, and hastily climbed the steps to the house and let herself in.

  Frances knew what she had to do. She must write to James at once. She had an income of her own. The only thing she was able to think of in order to free herself from this man was to offer him more money. She remembered she had her mother’s rubies, her sapphires. Her mother was fond of such trinkets. Frances knew she could sell a couple of pieces and her father might never know. She would then use the money to pay James off. She prayed it would be enough. It had to be enough. She felt relief flood her body as the hope that she would not have to marry James took hold.

  In her bedroom, she locked the door behind her and, without removing her cloak, sat down at the writing table at the end of the bed. If she wrote to him immediately, this whole sorry mess could be over this time tomorrow.

  Chapter Ten

  As June turned into July and summer blossomed, Sandon Place became increasingly beautiful. Edward employed a team of gardeners, and slowly but surely it began to feel and look like home.

  Sadly, Edward was unable to take full advantage of the wonderful English summer, as he spent most of his time travelling back and forth from London to Essex. His new alliance with Lord Davenport grew stronger by the day. Thanks to his lordship, Edward was introduced to more members of Parliament, lobbyists, and members of the House of Lords than he ever dreamt of meeting.

  Lord Davenport explained that, as an influential member of the Cabinet, he was in a precarious situation. He had to tread the fine line that existed between opposition and alliance to the bill. Therefore, he said, what he required of Edward was that he meet with William Wilberforce and other politicians of like mind, then report back to Lord Davenport with what was said, proposed, counter-proposed, and decided upon.

  Edward found it extremely tedious work. Granted, he found the meetings with Wilberforce and his band of followers most enlightening and inspirational, but having to repeat every meeting word for word back to Lord Davenport bored him senseless.

  One evening, having arrived late from Boodle’s gentlemen’s club to Lord Davenport’s house in Mayfair, Edward was treated to yet another sight of his lordship’s delightful daughter, Frances. Although it had only been twenty-four hours since he last saw her, with his growing affection and desire for her, it felt like twenty-four days.

  Edward could barely keep his eyes from her as she flitted about the room being the perfect hostess, offering drinks and sweetmeats. “… to what he was referring, I do not know. As yet he does not tell me everything,” Edward finished his dialogue.

  “That is a shame. But we will remember this, Emberton. It may be important for the future. Listen for it again.”

  “Yes, my lord,” Edward murmured, with his eyes firmly on Frances’ figure.

  “If I might speak boldly, my dear young friend, it seems you have taken a shine to my daughter there.”

  Edward’s head snapped back around towards Lord Davenport as he sat in his wingback leather chair and observed his guest watching Frances in the light from the fire. “I do beg your forgiveness, Lord Davenport,” Edward replied shamefacedly.

  To his surprise, Lord Davenport threw back his head and laughed unreservedly, wheezing as he did so. “You have no need to ask my forgiveness lad. She is a sight for sore eyes, and make no mistake. I’d consider you a fool if you did not admire her.”

  Edward did not know where to look or what to say.

  “She takes your fancy, eh?”

  “Well, I…” Edward felt that he reddened from the top of his copper hair all the way down to the tips of his toes. His eyes shifted from Frances’ amused expression to Lord Davenport’s curious one. “She is indeed a beauty, my lord.”

  The old man guffawed again. “I did not ask you if you thought she was a beauty. I asked you if she took your fancy,” he said matter-of-factly.

  E
dward sat opening and closing his mouth. He knew he ought to say something, but the truth seemed so stark and cold. “Yes, she does,” he mumbled.

  “Of course she does!” Lord Davenport declared. “I’ve seen the two of you together ever since the night of your ball, Emberton. And if I’m not wrong, she’s sweet on you too.”

  Frances smiled coquettishly and Edward suspected, daring not to hope, which direction the conversation was heading.

  “A jolly good job too, if you ask me.” Lord Emberton took the cigar his daughter handed him and lit it, puffing hard on it.

  “My lord?”

  “Well, to my own shame, I have to admit I made an error in judgement.” He looked up at his daughter and Edward saw something passed unspoken between them. “Yes, missy, you may well look at me like that. I was in my cups the other night when I agreed to what old Jarvis proposed. Oh, Frances,” he leaned forward slightly, “your mother would have given me such a tongue-lashing, the likes of which I have never known, if she knew what a rash thing I did.”

  Whatever it was they were talking about, Edward did not know, but it had a profound effect on Frances. She stumbled and moved towards the settee, sinking down on it as though her legs would not hold her up.

  “I’m sorry for it now. And I take it all back,” he waggled his wrinkled, tobacco stained finger at her. “I take it all back. Do you hear?”

  “Oh, Papa!” With her left hand, Frances gripped at the seat of the settee as she clamped her right over her mouth in astonishment.

  Lord Davenport turned back to Edward, who was entirely confused by what just happened before his eyes. “Forgive me for being so blunt, Emberton, and speaking my mind tonight. But what I want to know is what are your intentions toward my daughter?

  Edward was taken aback by the question and hesitated. At that moment, the realisation hit Edward like a bolt of lightning. He knew precisely what he wanted. He wanted Frances Davenport for his wife. Before he had time to consider his words, he blurted it out, “I wish to marry her, my lord.”

  “Oh!” Lord Davenport threw back his head and laughed so hard he almost choked on the cigar smoke in his chest. “You do, do you?”

  Edward purposefully turned towards Frances and looked her in the eyes. Her emerald green eyes sparkled with happiness as she returned his steady gaze. “Yes, I do. I have desired to marry your daughter from the first moment I saw her.”

  “Hmm…and you, Frances? Do you want to marry this fella?” jerking his head toward Edward.

  “Yes, Papa,” she answered no louder than a whisper, “I do wish to marry him.”

  “Well, then,” Lord Davenport cried out, “that settles it. You will be wed!”

  * * * *

  With all the travelling back and forth into London, dealing with constituency business, reporting back to Lord Davenport, and spending time visiting with Frances, Edward had little opportunity to be with his family.

  It was precisely a fortnight after he and Frances were betrothed that he was at liberty to visit Emberton Hall. He avoided the front entrance, assuming the family would be taking tea in the orangery, but he was wrong. He looked about in the gardens for them, even though it was such a sweltering August day, but they were not there either.

  A delicate cough from behind made him spin around in surprise. “Begging your pardon, sir, the family await you in the drawing room.”

  Edward looked at Henry, the Embertons’ butler, in bafflement. “What on earth are they doing indoors on such a glorious day as this?”

  “I cannot say, sir, but if you would like to follow me…” Henry turned fluidly and marched back towards the house.

  Edward had no recourse but to follow him. He wondered why they were all inside. It made no sense to him. He grew concerned and increased his pace. He sped past the butler and into the house, breaking into a run. When he reached the drawing room, he burst in on the whole family sitting peacefully and calmly as though awaiting his arrival.

  “Is everything well? Is everyone well?” Edward asked breathlessly fearing that one of his family was sick. He looked around the room and saw the window sashes were thrown wide open and a beautiful breeze flowed through the open door behind him.

  “Sit down, Edward,” Richard commanded.

  He did as he was told, sitting in his usual chair to the left of the fireplace, which now stood idle in the heat of summer. “What is it?” Edward observed that his mother twisted her handkerchief tightly in her hands, an action she only performed when she was anxious.

  Richard, looking at his brother with evident anger in his eyes, tossed the newspaper onto the low table between them all.

  Edward was at a loss to understand what was happening. He reached out and picked up the newspaper. “Has someone of our acquaintance died?” he asked as he scanned the page before him for the obituaries.

  No one said a word. They waited in silence for Edward to continue casting an eye over the page before him until it caught what he was meant to see. His eyes widened in horror as he read his name printed there and the announcement of his engagement to Frances.

  “Oh.” With one syllable, Edward announced to the room at large that this was not a mistake.

  “Oh?” Richard folded his arms across his chest. “Is that all you have to say?”

  “I did not expect…” He looked up into the face of his brother and seeing no kindness there, he turned to his mother, his hands splayed and waving the paper in his right. “Mama, I…”

  “Promised.”

  With that one single word from his mother, Edward felt as though she struck him. “I know. I…” He had no words. He had no explanation. He had no excuse.

  Edwina rounded on her son. “You promised, Edward. You promised me that should you take a liking to a young lady, that you would come to me to enquire about her reputation in society before, Edward, you petitioned for her hand in marriage.” She was so angry with him she waved her fists as she spoke, her usual decorum lost.

  “Yes, I did promise,” he whispered. He was ashamed of himself. He was so caught up in his infatuation for Frances Davenport that he had not spared one single thought for his mother or the promise he had made her. He could not blame her at all for berating him. He had broken a promise to his mother.

  “You cannot imagine the anguish I have been going through since this report came out last week.” She pointed a shaking finger at the paper he still held in his hands. “Last week, Edward! We have held this news in our hearts for a week, and we have not had any communication with you whatsoever. What do you have to say in your own defence?” The tears rolled unabated down her face; her whole body trembled with fury and hurt.

  Edward swallowed and stared down at the tips of his shoes as though he would find an excuse for his disrespectful behaviour somewhere upon them. “I have no excuse, Mama. I was not aware of an announcement in the papers. I have been so busy that I haven’t had time to take notice of the newspapers.” He sighed heavily. “What I have done is unpardonable. I have wronged you all.” He raised his head and stared at them one by one, Grace first on his left, Richard next to her, then lastly to his mother on his right. “I made a promise, and I reneged on that promise – nay, I forgot all about that promise. All I can offer you is a sincere apology and to explain what has happened in the past two weeks.”

  “Go ahead. We’re listening,” Richard spoke softly but with bridled anger.

  “I’ve dined with Lord Davenport and his daughter at his home a number of times.” Edward sighed. “As I am sure you are all aware, I was enchanted with Miss Davenport the moment I laid eyes upon her at the ball.”

  Edward stood and walked to the open window, hands clasped behind him. He turned to face his family. “At these dinners, her father and I talked about politics, about the causes about which we both feel passionately, and I spent many a pleasant evening in their company. I have also been extremely busy with constituency work and have travelled back and forth to London meeting other politicians. That is how I have
occupied myself in the last couple of weeks.”

  He paused, rubbed his eyes, and, summoning all his courage, proceeded to detail the circumstances that led up to his being betrothed. He described how Lord Davenport directed the conversation toward marriage and how, before Edward fully realized it, he and Frances were engaged to be married.

  “Do not mistake me,” Edward added hastily. “I am not complaining, and have no regrets.” He confessed to a growing ardent affection for the young lady. Edward told his mother, as he looked her unwaveringly in the eye, “There is no other woman for me, Mother.” He swallowed deeply and ploughed on, “She is noble, intelligent, and beautiful. There is nothing that you should be concerned about. Mother, I have chosen an eminently suitable woman to be my bride.”

  When he had finished speaking and retook his seat, the silence stretched on for what seemed like an eternity. It was his mother who spoke first. “You are decided then?”

  “I am, Mother. I love her.”

  “Nothing we could ever say or do would dissuade you from this course of action?”

  Edward frowned a little, wondering what his mother could ever tell him that would dissuade him from marrying the woman he loved. “No, nothing at all.”

  Their mother pursed her lips together and nodded. “I see.” She continued to nod and Edward could tell the anger that had abated now returned. “Your family’s reputation means nothing to you, then?”

  “My family’s reputation?” Edward shook his head gazing at all three of them in utter disbelief. “What has my family’s reputation got to do with my desire to marry such a lovely creature as Miss Davenport?”

  His mother pursed her lips together so tightly they became a thin white line. “What do you know of this woman? What do you know of her family?”

  It was true Edward knew very little of the Davenports, but what he did know he loved dearly. “Frances is the daughter of a lord, and he is a fine gentleman.” Edward sputtered, “And I would prefer it if you referred to her as a lady.”