by Julia Donner
“Lud, Emily, you went out of your way to shock and pester me, took every opportunity to inflict misery.”
“It was merely a bit of teasing, Hugh, and I do apologize for it now. Letting you know that I will look the other way with your mistress is my attempt to show my gratitude. Don’t you see? I’m trying to offer you the relief that I will not be allowed.” His expression must have conveyed his confusion, because she quickly added, “It will be months before I can return to normal…activities.”
Hugh looked away and encountered their reflection in the windows from candlelight burning low. Had she no idea? Should he tell her? Pregnancy never stopped husbands and wives. Some women became more receptive while with child. Beryl had been. He’d never understood that and gratefully took advantage of this wondrous gift, since Beryl was never as amenable otherwise. There was a fascinating attractiveness about a woman with child. He wasn’t quite sure why and didn’t want to look too closely at that particular gift horse.
And that presented another problem. He’d just discovered, or perhaps decided to finally admit to himself, the reason he’d always found Emily so damned irritating. His annoyance came from attraction. He was as fallible as any other male in the presence of a woman who exulted in her own sensuality. Over the years, he’d paid enough to women who pretended enjoyment. Emily was a living aphrodisiac, because she actually did. Heaven help him, how was he going to handle that?
“Will you do it, Hugh? For our children?”
He looked down into eyes as dark and mysterious as midnight. Somehow the modest gown she wore looked incendiary on her figure, which he knew was nothing out of the ordinary. Even so, most of the male guests tracked her movements throughout the evening. There was an air about Emily that announced to the world that she adored and was made for pleasure. And yet, she sat near him now, telling him with her eyes that nothing was too much to give for the child she’d always wanted.
In for a penny, he thought, as he marshaled his courage and cast off his good sense. “It looks like I’ve found the next Lady Exton-Lloyd.”
Chapter 4
A week after the banns had been announced, they married at St. George with as little fuss as possible. Arrangements had been made for the journey to Scotland immediately after the ceremony and to take the trip north in easy stages.
To Emily’s way of thinking, they couldn’t get to Callander soon enough. She hadn’t been to Coldstream Manor in almost a decade and lived with the melancholy of the separation from the house and countryside where she’d spent her girlhood. She’d never been invited back during Hugh’s marriage to Beryl.
Since she’d been living in town by way of moving from one friend’s house to another, it took little time for Ferris, her maid, to pack her belongings. Knowing she would have scant use for them in the country life ahead, and that they would be out of fashion by the time she gave birth, she had Ferris surreptitiously sell her finest gowns. What little she gained by this she gave to Ferris, who had patiently waited for payment for almost a year. Why the woman stayed without pay she never understood.
Hugh comprehended the vital need for a competent personal servant and would have no qualms about paying a maid’s wages. He might be parsimonious in some ways, but not when it came to one’s appearance. He’d be horrified to know that she cared so little for style and only kept up with fashions for the sake of appearances. All of Society knew she was a pauper, but it was bad ton to show oneself in public in a poor turnout. She was never without invitations. Hostesses sought her favor to draw men to their gatherings, and Emily had excellent musical skills in comparison to the tepid talents of others. Beyond that, ton wives knew she didn’t care for married men and never minded playing for her supper. She supposed she could have gone to Europe and performed, but she’d been reared to play for her peers, not patrons. In addition, if Hugh had learned of a family connection taking money for performing, he would have suffered an apoplexy.
The landscape changed by degrees daily as they traveled northward to Callander. She found comfort in the countryside outside the carriage window. After the Exton-Lloyd family seat was destroyed in a fire, she’d spent a large part of her childhood at Coldstream Manor near the Trossachs. Scotland seemed more home to her than England. Every mile brought deeper contentment and distance from two months of worry.
She looked away from misty bens and valleys lit by shafts of golden sunbeams and discovered Hugh studying her from the seat across. He redirected his attention to the view beyond the windows, his features chiseled and stern. He’d removed his hat and gloves and set them on the seat beside him. The sandy waves that had been brushed back were beginning to curl from the humidity. He kept his lips pressed in a line. Was he having regrets?
Sadness filled her chest, weighing down her heart. Had she been fair, proposing as she had? Even for the sake of an innocent baby? Society made no distinctions, no matter how highly born. A bastard was a bastard, a lesser being. She had survived being an orphan through grace or simple good luck, when Hugh’s mother saw fit to recognize a four-year-old girl survivor of a cholera epidemic. She had vented her pain and loss on the serious boy, a distant cousin with an ingrained predilection for mothering.
Her approach in seeking Hugh’s aide had placed him in an untenable position, dishonorable if he didn’t, and miserable if he did. She’d manipulated the poor man, something she’d never done before. He might be a stick, but he had a kind heart. Marrying him had been a mistake.
He unexpectedly asked, “What did you say?”
“Oh! I hadn’t realized that I’d spoken out loud.”
“Not loudly enough for me to understand. Something about a mistake.”
She looked down at the foot well, then up into his direct gaze. “Hugh, have we made the right choice?”
“A bit late to be asking that, madam.” He leaned forward to brace his elbows on his knees and took her hands. His thumbs gently rubbed the backs of her wrists, comforting, lending encouragement. “We’re stuck with each other, but I have no doubt we will make the best of it. But to be fair, I was wondering the very same thing. Not that we’ve struck a convenient bargain, but that my sons have proven relentless, and I worry that I’ve placed too much on your shoulders at this time.”
“It’s doubtful they could present more of a problem than I did when your parents took me in.”
He released her hands and sat back against the leather squabs. “Well, it was Mother’s idea. You’re from her side of the family.”
“How is she? The last letter from her had been penned in Cairo. She’s so amazingly intrepid.”
“Mother dreamed since a girl about places exotic and mysterious. Father left her a special fund for the adventures she’d always dreamed about.”
Emily untied her ribbons under her chin, lifted off the bonnet, and set it on the tufted seat. “It was very good of your father to leave her funds to travel. She was a great deal younger, wasn’t she?”
“By thirty years. He once told me that he wasn’t the kind of man who liked being without a wife. He’d lost his, apparently a love match, after two decades. No children, but of course, you knew that. It was only months after her passing that he pulled Mother from the schoolroom. She’d just turned fifteen. It took a few years, but finally I came along.”
“I remember her looking so young in comparison to Sir Marcus. It saddened me that he died while I was at seminary. Your mother wrote to tell me after the funeral. I would’ve been there, had I known.”
His expression remained impassive, his gaze unperturbed, but his tone implied sympathy. “She didn’t want you to make that long trip, since you scarcely knew him.”
“But he was my patron and deserved the respect of my attendance.”
“Emily, please don’t allow that to cause you any concern. You probably saw the man no more than five times. He was infirm and gout-ridden by the time you came to us. I never saw much of him, other than to report on the progress of my studies.”
“D
id you like him, Hugh?”
“Like him? He was my father. I showed him great respect whenever I presented myself, but in truth, I knew nothing about him. Mother said he was as particular in his ways as I am. You know Mother. As long as the world is spinning, and she’s traveling somewhere different, she’s happy.”
Long minutes passed as they each viewed the passing countryside on opposite sides of the carriage. The well-sprung coach rolled over the roads. The jangle of harness and hooves had long since become so familiar that it could be ignored, absorbed by thoughts and expectations of destinations reached.
Hugh interrupted her thoughts to ask, “I never heard nor saw much of you after we were sent off to school. Did you like the seminary Mother chose?”
“Worth’s? Very much. I was fortunate to make and enjoy lasting friendships.”
“Anyone I would know?”
“Even though an academy for the very select, my friends and I were not of the elect. None of us were honorables. The girls from the finer houses tended to stay with their own flocks.”
“Yet, you married well enough. Mother saw to that.”
She thought about her late husband. “By society’s standards, an excellent match. Being in possession of a title opens the doors of London upper classes, but offers little else. At least, for me. I value kindness and intelligence. There’s not much of that on the ground when it comes to the upper ten.”
She paused when she noticed his disbelief, which he quickly smoothed away with a gaze of speculation. She wasn’t going to let him get away with that brief show of skepticism, deserving or not.
“Come now, Hugh. Allow me some credit for the natural progression to maturity. I may have been an obnoxious pest as a girl, but we all must grow up someday. I was a child who had lost her parents and been sent to live with strangers. I was jealous of you for having both of yours.”
“Be that as it may, it is still no excuse for acting ill-bred.”
His disdain made her chuckle. “I fully agree, but that loss is why I understand and will get on very well with your sons. I believe the eldest is seven and the younger, six. Are they anything like Beryl?”
“Sadly, no. And nothing like me, either. I can scarcely send them off to school when they’ve refused to accept any form of tutoring. At that age, I quite enjoyed learning.”
“And did well with your studies, I’ve no doubt. Did you make friends at Eton?”
“After it was understood that I would tolerate no hazing. And I had the good sense to worm my way into a pack of students led by Ravenswold.”
“Yes, I’ve met him. Quiet, but terrifying. His countess likes me because I’m not afraid of her. Told her so straight away and she laughed. So it’s true that public schools are savage?”
“Very near, in my opinion. The older boys are merciless on the younger. Because of you, their tricks were useless on me. I’d been conditioned by a complete hand.”
She outright laughed this time. “You have yet to thank me for that!”
“You will receive no compliments from me on that score, minx. And your friends, will you be inviting them to Coldstream?”
“I should like that, but it’s doubtful that Ana can be drawn away from her teaching position. She is Tatiana Worth, niece of the originators of Worth’s Academy for Select Young Ladies. Leticia might be persuaded. She is Leticia Carlton, an heiress. Ana and I became her protectors. She, like you, was quick to find defenders.”
Sadness shadowed his murmur. “It’s never easy for the young ones being sent away from home.”
“Letty didn’t mind that. The difficulty came when the older girls teased her unmercifully.”
“Bookish?”
“Yes, and a bit plump. She and Ana are so clever. I never understood what they saw in me.”
He shifted his attention back out the window, a slight smile curving up one side of his mouth. “Perhaps you championed them?”
She smirked as she admitted, “I did remove a hank from Cecily Belgrave’s head for calling Leticia fat.”
“And with a name like Tatiana, what could be said to wound a creature bearing so forceful a designation?”
“It didn’t stop Lady Jane Giddens. She had the effrontery to call my Ana common, as if she were a worn-down clog.”
He surprised her with a soft laugh. “I dread to hear Lady Jane’s fate. Whatever you dealt her, I’m certain she never again attempted to insult any member of your cadre. Tell me, Emily, will you defend my sons as violently?”
She waggled her eyebrows. “Perhaps you should hide the key to your gun cabinet.” Then with steel in her tone, she added. “Whether you like it or not, they are now also mine.”
They rode in silence for the remainder of the morning, enjoying the landscape that boasted the colors of full summer. He eventually said with a frown of curiosity, “It’s been days on the road, and you’ve yet to insult me.”
“I’m no longer a jealous girl, I suppose. And Hugh, I do appreciate your patience in making this journey in slow stages. It’s very good of you.”
“You forget that I’m an old hand at this business of childbearing.”
She dryly replied, “Yes, I’m sure you did all the work.”
“Only the most enjoyable part.” She laughed when he winced from the spontaneous and very inappropriate rejoinder. “Dash it all, Em, you’re already infecting me with your impropriety.”
“Then I offer a reprieve. After we stop for luncheon, please avail yourself of the horse tied to the carriage boot. I do appreciate your company but also know that you must be in want of exercise. Beyond that, you’ve noticed that I’ve developed the need for afternoon naps. Ferris tucked a pillow in the drawer under this seat.”
“An excellent suggestion. If you don’t mind, we’re not far from Callander. Our caravan will arrive by late afternoon, but I should like to ride ahead to make sure all is well and ready for us at Coldstream.”
“Is Hopton still in service and wearing his horrid Friday-face?”
Hugh grimaced. “I hired an under-butler last year, since we can’t convince Hopton to retire. I’m grateful the boys hold him in affection and esteem, but now that I think on it, your plan of me riding ahead provides the opportunity to break the marriage to them ahead of time. They’ve been victorious in their previous efforts. Some advance preparation on my part might smooth your reception.”
She dismissed his concern with a wave of her hand. “Stop worrying so, Hugh. They’re just children.”
Chapter 5
A litany of famous last words flitted through her mind as Emily looked down at Hugh’s sons—not what she expected. Both were dressed in immaculate white suits with blue trim, their stockings spotless and wrinkle free. Their black slippers gleamed. With every hair in place, they wore immaculate gloves on their little hands. They bowed with aplomb and respect. Waldo and Howard looked like adorable angels. She was not deceived.
From all she’d been told, she anticipated a pair of smirking, grubby boys, which she felt assured she would have no trouble getting into line. These lads, dressed with the same perfection as their father, stood at military attention. They’d even bowed in unison and now stood in obedient silence, appearing in every way the opposite of their reputations.
For a moment, Emily suffered a qualm, the slightest hint of uncertainty, then her innate will to win took the reins. She let down the barriers she usually held in place. With a smile, she released what others called an alarming ability to charm.
Waldo, the eldest, showed the most obvious response. His eyelids fluttered. He was the image of young Hugh, with gleaming, corn silk hair that would turn his father’s color of wheat when he aged. Slender and tense, he would grow into Hugh’s whipcord figure and assured physical grace, but at this age, Waldo, the future baronet, presented the identical prissy nature that had annoyed her when they were children. Thankfully, she’d matured enough to realize that young Hugh had only been trying to be kind. His studied mannerisms had come from his being
a bit shy.
Howard, on the other hand, was what her Aunt Philomena used to call a piece of work. He had none of his father’s chiseled features. Howie had a gamin face and innocent grey eyes that revealed a cunning glint whenever he briefly dropped his guard. Where the elder child was usually the instigator in acts of deviltry, in this instance, the younger brother held sway. Howie was downright adorable, clever-looking, and not to be trusted. She was going to have considerable trouble curbing her urge to cuddle and give this scamp whatever he wanted.
Hugh was not so moved. A warning flickered in his gaze as he announced, “I elected to remarry within the family. This is Cousin Emily, previously Lady Fortesque. She lived here as a child and knows her way around. You’ll not be expected to give her directions. To anywhere.”
Emily detected a subtext attached to that order and had to wonder if the boys had led another prospective bride to a horrifying end by showing her the swine pens. She pursed her lips to hide a grin at the image of them accidentally helping the unsuspecting damsel to fall in pig mud. She’d been as dreadful, if not worse. There had been an uncovered well behind the sheep barn. She had hidden inside it, clinging to the rocks, calling for help and had terrified Hugh by making him believe she’d fallen to the bottom. Gracious but she’d been a horrid brat and totally undeserving of his recent and ongoing kindnesses. It made her more determined to take care of his impish sons.
Hugh touched her arm and drew her away from the withdrawing room door. “Waldo, Howie, you are excused.”
“Welcome home, Father,” Waldo said, serious and dignified. “And our felicitations and best wishes to you, Step-mama.”
The boys again bowed in unison. As they filed by, with Howie trailing his self-contained brother, Emily detected a vague smirk. The cherub plotted something. Eager to find out what, she turned to Hugh and said in a distinct voice sure to allow the little ears on the other side of the door to hear. “That wasn’t so dreadful. They didn’t succeed in getting my head on a pike, so why don’t we claim it a victory.”
