Chapter Fourteen
Edward could not help himself, neither did he want to. He loved Frances Davenport. The more time they spent together, the more ardently and passionately he felt about her, and all the past injury faded to a distant memory. There was not a day that went by where Edward was not distracted by constant thoughts of her. He wanted to be with her always, to stare into her emerald green eyes, to smell the scent of rose petals from her raven hair, to listen to the infectious tinkle of her laughter. Edward counted the days until the wedding, when he could, without scruple, enjoy her entirely.
He suspected that, should he be of a mind to, he could act freely and with abandon towards Frances. His own conscience would not allow that. Edward was a man of honour. No matter what was said about Frances, no matter what the truth was, he would not act dishonourably towards her.
No matter in which direction Edward’s thoughts went, he could not escape Frances, even when it was not pleasant. More than once he avoided visiting Boodles because of the censure he received in the stares, glances, and comments, half hidden behind the backs of hands of those he believed to be his friends. Edward wished he could say he did not care what people thought of him, but he could not.
What was worse was that every time he heard Frances’ name in connection with some sordid joke, vile gossip, or abhorrent insinuation, he felt sick to his stomach and ashamed that she was to be his wife. By morning the feeling had passed and Edward was repentant and ashamed of himself. Just to be in her presence sent his blood racing through his veins and his passions to rising. He not only knew he loved Frances; he wanted her in every way that a man could want a woman.
It cut him to the quick that he could be so easily hurt by the opinions of others. It made him question his suitability to be a politician. How could he do his job if opposing views made him sway like a reed in the wind? He ought to be steadfast and unmoving. Frances deserved a husband like that. Can I be such a man? he wondered as he strode through the house heading towards the waiting carriage outside. He was to join the Davenports for dinner that night, after which he would be staying at a hotel for two nights, and finally the wedding on the following morning.
Edward’s stomach churned as he thought of his impending nuptials. The seed of thought had implanted itself and was now sprouting and growing within him. Was he the kind of man that Frances deserved? Was he the best husband for her?
He shook his head as he seated himself against the plush leather-cushioned seating in the carriage and moved aside the red curtains to gaze out at his grounds. Why was he questioning his suitability? “Preposterous!”
As the carriage pulled away and he listened to the mesmerising clip-clop of the horses’ shoes upon the gravel driveway, Edward wondered what the future held in store for him. He was marrying a woman who took his breath away, who mesmerised him, and whom he loved more than anyone in the world, a woman his family despised. Would they ever breach the divide between his mother and Frances? Would Frances ever be accepted as one of the Embertons?
Ever the eternal optimist, Edward leaned his head back, wriggling it until it settled into the dip formed by one of the buttons in the upholstery, closed his eyes, and tried not to think of Frances, the wedding, or what anyone thought of him.
That was easier said than done, and Edward was tired and irritable when he arrived in London that evening. The sun was setting behind the tall brick townhouses as the carriage turned in to Mayfair, and he wanted more than anything to sleep, as impossible a notion as that was. As the carriage pulled to a stop outside the Davenport home, Edward fixed a smile upon his face, shook himself mentally and physically in an attempt to banish his weariness, and descended onto the street.
As the door to the grand facade, behind which Frances lived, opened, Edward could see Frances hovering at the foot of the staircase, waiting for his arrival. It took just one look at her for all his fears and doubts and worries to be erased. She was all he would ever need. Of that, he was certain.
Edward climbed the steps and entered the house. The butler closed the door behind him and disappeared as servants did. Edward stepped forward and took hold of Frances’ hands, placing a long, lingering kiss on the backs of her knuckles. Oh, how he wanted to kiss her full, enticing lips, but he resisted the temptation. He wanted to believe she could change, become honourable, and on the way to London Edward decided the best way to help Frances was for him to treat her as the wife he wanted her to be. He wanted her to be principled; therefore, he would treat her as though she always had been.
“I have missed you more than words could say, my dearest Frances.” He stared into her eyes, expressing all the love he held in his heart, and she blushed under the intensity.
“I have missed you too, my love.”
For one as worldly as Frances, when she blushed, she looked as pure and as innocent as a maiden. It was easy in that moment for Edward to believe her virtuous. “Only two more days, my dear, and then we two shall be one.”
Frances took a faltering step towards him and Edward wanted nothing more at that moment than to kiss her perfectly formed mouth, but it was not to be as her father appeared in the doorway to the drawing room on the right.
“Ah, Emberton! You’re here already! Good, good! Come on in then, lad.” Lord Davenport beckoned with a wave of his hand and led the party into the drawing room. As usual, the stout politician had a fat cigar in one hand and a well-filled glass, this time of Scotch, in the other. “Pleasant journey?”
Edward, giving an apologetic look to Frances, scuttled after his lordship. “Nothing out of the ordinary, sir.”
The old man laughed. “Yes, it can be such a bore, all that travelling.” He seated himself with a satisfied murmur and settled back into his favourite chair, puffing on his cigar. “That’s really my reason for not going out of my country property so much. I cannot stand all that travel.”
Edward did not know what to say. His lordship was making small talk, something they were not accustomed to doing. Usually Lord Davenport was direct and succinct, never one to mince words. Edward smiled at him politely, with one eye on Frances as she entered the room and poured him a glass of Scotch too.
“When missy here is finished making a fuss of pouring you a drink, I’ll get right to the point, shall I?”
Edward did not miss the hurt expression on Frances. “Of course,” he bowed his head politely wondering what sort of relationship Lord Davenport truly had with his daughter if he could embarrass her so in front of her intended.
“So,” Lord Davenport eyeballed Edward as he tasted the amber liquid within his glass, “you’ve met with the campaigners?”
For a moment Edward had absolutely no idea what Davenport was talking about.
“The pro-abolition campaigners…” his lordship prompted.
As realisation dawned, Edward closed his eyes. How stupid of me! Of course he means the pro-abolition campaigners! He pulled himself together. “Yes, I have, as a matter of fact. I dined more than once with many of them, even speaking to Wilberforce himself on no less than three occasions.”
Lord Davenport raised his eyebrows and looked impressed. “Hmm… This is all very good, Emberton. You are doing very well indeed.” Edward watched as his lordship took one long drag on his cigar, savouring the feel and taste of the smoke as it entered his lungs and watching as the blue tendrils swirled about his head when he exhaled again. “Now you must tell me everything. If I am to secretly support this from my position within the government, I must know as much as possible. Do not leave out any detail, Emberton.”
Edward took a deep breath. He had not expected this. He believed he was merely coming for dinner with his fiancée and future father-in-law, not to furnish his lordship with a blow-by-blow account of all the chatter, suggestions, lobbying, and arguments that had gone on recently within the pro-abolition camp. He stared down at the glass in his hand thinking, I’m going to need this refilled more than once, as he launched into a monologue about what the pro-abo
litionists wanted, hoped, and desired.
Lord Davenport listened attentively, smoking his cigar thoughtfully and sipping at the Scotch in his hand.
Edward was aware of Frances’ presence. Her eyes never strayed from his face as he spoke. She gazed at him from under her lashes, and Edward felt the caress upon his skin. When she rose from her chair, it was to furnish them both with more Scotch or to give her father another cigar. Edward noted that his lordship smoked far too much. His own lungs started to feel the pain of constantly breathing in the smoky air. He longed for the fresh cool night air of London but, dinner not having yet been served, knew it would be long before he could indulge that desire.
His throat became sore and his head began to pound between his temples. He longed for dinner to be announced in order to have respite from his discourse. As the clock struck nine o’clock and his recitation was nearing an end, Edward heard the dinner gong being struck in the dining room. He neatly rounded off all he had to say and took a large swig of the Scotch, emptying his glass and soothing his throat.
For what seemed like an age, Lord Davenport remained motionless, apart from a small nodding of his head. “Very interesting, Emberton. Very interesting indeed.” He continued nodding as he stared down at the rug on the floor before him. “I shall know precisely how to act now.”
Edward’s puzzled expression apparently amused Lord Davenport. He chuckled. “Not to worry yourself about that, Emberton. I have your report. I will do what I can from my position within the Cabinet.” His eyes sparkled with something that Edward would normally have termed shrewd. “You keep furnishing me with all this information. That’s all I ask of you.” Abruptly his lordship stood up and walked his ample frame towards the door. “Keep on giving me all I need, Emberton.” He chuckled again as he disappeared into the dining room on the opposite side of the hallway.
Edward stared wonderingly into the empty space that Lord Davenport had just vacated. He reflected on the sly, satisfied look he saw on the face of his benefactor. His instincts kicked in, and he started to feel uncomfortable, aware that ordinarily that kind of expression would raise his suspicions.
“What is it?” Frances asked him, her voice soft and soothing, as she slipped her arm through his.
Mentally Edward shook himself and turned to give Frances his most charming smile. “Nothing at all, my dear, I assure you.”
As they started to walk side by side towards the door, Frances leant closer, “My father is a man of his word. If he says he will help, he will do so.” She smiled up at him reassuringly.
Her words did not allay the small coil of fear that had started to snake its way up Edward’s spine.
“You can place all of your trust in my father. If he says he supports your course, then you can rest easy that he wholeheartedly and most certainly does.” She smiled again, but Edward found it difficult to reciprocate.
He wished with all his heart that her words were true, but there was something he could not put his finger on that made him begin to doubt Lord Davenport’s sincerity.
For the rest of the evening all attention was devoted to Frances. She chatted away about the wedding during dinner; afterwards she regaled them with her ability at the pianoforte, with her beautiful mezzosoprano voice; then she beat them both at Vignt-et-un.
Edward was surprised at her skill at the card table. He did not have to try to allow her to win; she truly was an able player.
She giggled at his look of surprise when she won her fifth consecutive round. “Your expression tells me that you are surprised, Edward. Is it not possible for a lady to be so accomplished at the card table?” she asked him playfully.
He blushed from his hairline all the way down to where his cream silk cravat touched his neck. “Not at all, I assure you. I merely did not realise that you were such an accomplished player.”
“I am glad to have amazed you,” she giggled.
“I supposed you to have used your time in different ways.” As soon as the words left Edward’s mouth, he knew he had committed a faux pas. The expression of shock and hurt upon Frances’ face cut him like a knife. He knew he had to say something quickly to worm his way out of trouble. He looked down at the cards that Frances had just dealt him in order to avoid looking at her wounded expression. “It is clear to all who have had the pleasure of hearing you play and sing that you have used your time very well indeed.” He fixed upon his face the brightest smile he could muster and looked up at her directly and, relieved to see his words had the desired effect, continued, “You truly are an asset to your father.” Edward watched as Frances’ features softened, the offended expression that so recently struck her visage gone.
“Indeed, I spent more money than you can imagine, Emberton, on having this girl taught by some of the best tutors and governesses in this land. She ought to jolly well be an asset and highly accomplished young lady!” Lord Davenport declared.
“Oh, Father!” Frances rolled her eyes and shook her head at him as though scolding a small child. “What nonsense you speak!”
Edward watched with amusement the interaction between the father and daughter before him.
“How would it have been, Papa, if you had not had me educated well?” She pursed her lips at him as though she were cross.
“Yes, well, that’s beyond the point!” he responded grumpily, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. “How would it have been if I’d spent all that money on you and you had not been accomplished at the end of it all?” He poked a finger in her general direction.
Frances laughed at him. “Papa, I believe you are the worse for wear for liquor this evening.”
“Twaddle!” he slurred back at her.
She inclined her head at Edward. “You see what I mean?”
Edward did not wish to get involved. He looked away, hoping to not endure the wrath of Lord Davenport another time.
“I believe it is time you retired for the night, Papa.” Frances commanded. In one fluid movement, Frances pushed her chair back, rose from the table, and moved to ring the bell to call for a servant.
Edward watched in discomfort. He was embarrassed to witness Lord Davenport in his cups.
The butler arrived. Frances directed her father be taken to his room, despite his lordship’s bellowed resistance, and Edward found himself alone in the drawing room with his bride-to-be.
Suddenly the atmosphere changed. It was leaden and heavy. He was more aware of Frances’ presence than at any other time that night. He was also aware that he too had imbibed far too much of Lord Davenport’s Scotch. If he were to remain the gentleman he wished to be, Edward knew he would have to make a delicate and swift departure. He turned towards Frances, who was gazing at him expectantly through her long black eyelashes. Edward’s heart skipped a beat at the sight of her beauty. He was all too aware of the physical reaction the sight of her gave him. If she were to take a step towards him in an attempt to kiss him, he would be powerless to resist. He had to do something, and he had to do it quickly.
He cleared his throat loudly, a horrible, grating noise which broke the tension in the room instantly. “I had better make my way back to the hotel, my dear. It is getting very late indeed.” He grinned at her awkwardly.
“Must you leave?” she implored, her voice as soft satin upon the skin.
This time Edward cleared his throat for real, swallowing down the passion that was rising within him. “I think it is for the best,” he said, realising his voice was deep and husky. He surreptitiously made little steps backwards away from her.
Frances pouted prettily. It seemed she was as greatly affected as he. She sniffed.
Edward knew she was trying her level best to get an emotional response from him. He stared at her well-formed plump lips and wanted nothing better at that moment then to taste their sweetness and feel the velvetiness against his own. His heart pounded in his chest and his mouth was dry as he continued to edge towards the door. “I… I really do think I should be going.”
/> Little by little, Edward moved backwards until he hit what he thought was the wall. He turned around sharply and gasped as he came face-to-face with the butler, standing expressionless and immobile, holding Edward’s hat and coat. Edward’s embarrassment could not have been greater. He turned and grinned at Frances, who was laughing, highly diverted.
“Oh, Edward! You are funny.” She shifted her eyes to the butler, her giggles stifled. “Call Mr Emberton a cab, will you?”
The butler bowed and went into the street to hail a hackney cab.
“I shall see you in two days,” Edward said to Frances, his face still as red as a beetroot.
“It seems like ever such a long time away.” Frances had gone back to pouting.
“It will pass quicker than you think, my dear.” With his coat on and his hat securely upon his head, Edward reached out his hands to take Frances’. He kissed the backs of them lingeringly, breathing deeply her scent. “Before you know it, you will be walking up the aisle of St George’s Church in Hanover Square upon the arm of your father, and I will be watching you in all your magnificent bridal beauty. For that sight alone, I can endure two days without you.” He watched as Frances bit her lower lip at his words, struck dumb by the strength and intensity of his declaration.
Again Edward lowered his head and kissed the backs of her hands, knowing that if he lingered too long, he would never leave. Slowly he raised his head and took one long, lingering look into her emerald green eyes. “Adieu, my darling Frances.”
The sigh that escaped her perfectly formed lips was all the reward Edward could have wanted that night. He knew it would sustain him until they met again before the altar.
Chapter Fifteen
St George’s Church was as opulently decorated as Edward expected it to be. Small posies of flowers and festoons of ribbons adorned the end of each pew all the way down the central aisle. Surrounding the entrance to the church itself, inside and out, was a beautiful arch created with fresh hydrangeas, roses, and freesias surrounded by a sea of greenery. There were more candles than usual adorning all window alcoves and any flat surface around the cavernous church. These too were decorated with roses, freesias, and greenery.
The Suitable Bride (The Emberton Brothers Series Book 2) Page 11
