by Ella Edon
“I’ll leave you there, and then I’ll come back later on.”
“Oh.”
Emilia looked at him. He knew it was more responsible if he waited, getting everything properly organized. What he wanted didn’t matter: it was his duty to go to her father properly informed.
“I need to go past my home first,” he explained. “If nothing else, I need a better suit.”
Emilia smiled at him gently. “Oh, Luke. You’re handsome in anything you wear.”
“I want everything to be perfect,” he told her, as a flush crept up his neck, making his face grow hot.
And you are beautiful in whatever you wear, even when you wear naught but what you wear under all those clothes and petticoats.
He wanted to say it, but he was too shy. He looked out of the window, leaning back as the streets grew busier.
After an age, they rolled up outside her family residence. He looked up at it, surprised that he recognized it. He’d thought he’d left too quickly to really note it, but he found he remembered the pale sandstone walls, the fine carvings.
“I’ll see you soon,” Emilia whispered, as he jumped down and offered her his hand to help her alight from the coach.
“Soon enough to wish I’d stayed away for more,” he assured her.
They both laughed as she stood before him on the ground, eyes on his. Luke felt the need to kiss her like a physical ache.
“Take care, milady. Have a rest?”
She giggled. “I slept very well.”
Luke blushed, remembering. He’d slept so well he’d barely woken up, even when the church-tower in the nearby village rang the hour.
“I did too,” he said.
They looked at each other and Luke swallowed, resisting the all-encompassing need to kiss her again. After a moment of hesitation, he reached for her hand. He squeezed it and then gently pressed his lips to her knuckles.
“Take care,” he whispered.
Then, before he could give in to the fast-growing desire to pull her against him and put his lips on hers, his mouth exploring hers as it had, hands sliding down her back and to her neatly-trim waist, he leaned back and turned away, heading to the coach.
“To Westmore Mews,” he said swiftly. He shut the door and they sped off. He turned around and looked out of the window, seeing Emilia walk slowly up the front steps. He thought she turned around, and fancied that she raised a hand, a wave.
“Emilia Herston, I love you,” he whispered.
The coach sped on towards his residence.
When he reached it, he was all but fully decided. He was going to tell her father he would take no dowry, and he was going to discuss with his solicitor the exact steps that they could take, the investments and savings and strategies they could use, to get the Earl’s accounts in the black. He was here now, and Emilia need never want for new gowns or ribbons again.
As he lowered himself from the coach, he felt a chill pass down his spine. His retainer was standing before the doorstep, giving him a flurry of alarm.
“Yes, Humes?” he asked, frowning.
“Sir! An urgent letter. It’s from Deepvale.”
“My uncle? What’s happened?”
Luke took the letter, trying to ignore his growing sense of alarm. His uncle was sick. He should have visited a fortnight ago. What had happened to him? He scanned the letter with misted eyes.
I write to you with some desperate haste. My father is dying. There can be little done to save him – at least, so I believe. If it is at all possible for you to reach the estate, I would ask you to go as swiftly as you can. I am stuck here in the North, and will not reach the estate before it is too late. If anything can be done to ease his passing, I charge you with the doing of it. And, should his solicitor require a signature, I authorize you hereby to act in my stead. Yours trustingly, H.L.E.
Luke swallowed hard. “How long ago did…”
“This morning, milord,” Humes said immediately.
Luke stared at him. That meant his uncle might be dead already! He had to hurry.
“Summon the coach,” he said swiftly.
“Sir! You only just came…”
“It doesn’t matter,” Luke interrupted his horrified remarks swiftly. “I need to go at once. I need to reach Yorkshire this week. Have the coachman take three pounds in cash with him, from the cash-supply. We’ll need to change horses each day.”
“Yes, sir,” the butler replied. “You could charge it to the accounts – the inns will send us the bill for the loan of fresh horses, straight away.”
“I reckon cash is faster,” Luke said grimly. He hadn’t a moment to spare.
He waited outside as the coach was prepared, the coachman informed, the cash delivered, and then vaulted into the interior, heart thumping.
“I hope I get there on time.”
He couldn’t believe how close he’d come to letting his uncle down, and his cousin. They needed him desperately.
It was only as they passed through the densely-crowded streets that he realized how much he didn’t want to leave London. He would give anything to be able to demand a turnaround. He wanted to go straight to Mowbray House, get on his knees and demand that her father acknowledge the wedding of himself and Emilia in that very study where, weeks ago, he’d seen her, in truth, for the first time.
“I can’t do it.”
Duty will always come first, for me: it has to be that way. Why else would the motto of our house be “Duty before me”?
He knew what he wanted, with all his heart. He just had no way of knowing whether or not he could make it happen.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
On Trust
Emilia stared out of the window. It was summer, but rain was falling. Slow, steady drops ran down the window and onto the sill, fragmenting the view of gray London.
I don’t think I can bear one second more of this.
Her heart ached. It had been two days since she had heard from Luke. Sending June past his home had produced no results. He wasn’t there. Where was he?
“He has decided to try and find a way out of it.”
She closed her eyes, the vision of the gray, cold city blurring and disappearing. She didn’t know what to do to expunge the pain; how to manage this terrible doubt and sorrow within her.
I will not feel happy until I know where he is, and what he’s up to.
How could she understand his disappearance? There had been no word, no letter. Nothing. The only conclusion she was left to make was that he’d vanished for one purpose – of eliminating her.
“He’s made vows to me, but who is to say he’ll honor that?”
It was all secret, after all! Against all protocol, there had been no witnesses. Emilia had no idea whether or not the document they signed was even valid, legally! In which case, were Luke an unscrupulous sort of a man – and she really had no idea what manner of man he might be – he might well break faith with her.
She might have lost her innocence and gained only shame. What would happen, if Luke walked away now? What would happen if word should get out about their night at the inn? Or worse, what if something had happened to him? What if he’d been hurt?
She turned as she heard feet walking briskly down the hall.
“Milady?” June appeared at the door. Her eyes were wide, and she looked excited, or alarmed. Emilia’s heart thudded.
“What happened?” she asked, getting to her feet from the settle.
“Your father, milady. He’s taken bad and has been asking for you.”
“I’m coming now.”
She gathered her skirts in her hand and rushed briskly up the hallway. Her father was in the small parlor. He was sitting at the table, his face deathly pale. Emilia sat down heavily on the seat across from him and reached for his hand.
“Father? Are you unwell?”
He turned to her slowly. His blue eyes were tense at the corners, his lips a livid color. He blinked, as if he wasn’t exactly able to see her for
a second, then sighed.
“Daughter. There you are. I had a fell dream about you. You’re not harmed?”
Emilia smiled and took his hand, trying to look reassuring. “No, Papa. I’m fine. Is that all?”
“Yes,” he whispered. He squeezed her hand, looking down at the fingers. “I’m sorry, daughter. I just…I have been worried about you. I know I’ve been neglectful of late…”
“It’s nothing, father,” she said gently. “You’ve been unwell. Don’t fret yourself on my account.”
She glanced sideways at him, wondering if the dream was a ruse for telling her he knew about her liaison with Luke. He had seemed barely even aware she had been absent for a night. Emilia still didn’t know if he actually knew, and had swallowed June’s concocted story about her being caught at Hestony’s home because of repairs to the carriage – or if he truly had not noticed her absence. She swallowed hard.
“It’s true, my sweetling,” he said. “I’ve been neglectful. And I want to say I’m sorry…before it’s too late.” He coughed feebly.
“No, Father,” Emilia stated firmly. “I won’t hear you talking that way.”
He grinned. His gums, in contrast to the livid lips, were white. He looked terribly ill. Emilia squeezed his fingers and wished, not for the first time, that there was something – anything – that she could do.
He chuckled. “It doesn’t matter if you like it or not,” he observed. “It’s true. We all have to meet our Maker, and I’m going sooner than later. I’ve been such a fool.” His face darkened.
“How have you been a fool?” Emilia asked gently.
“I should have spent more wisely. Invested in schemes. I should have made money, not lost it! I will, you know!” he declared and nodded vigorously. “I’ll start making money as soon as I can— if this damned illness will subside and let me do it. That last twinge from my heart has made me realize – it’s time. I need to do this before something worse happens to me.” His face flushed and he nodded, determinedly. “I still have time to turn this around. Not…too…late to clear my name.”
Emilia stared at him. “What?” she whispered.
Inside, rage was building – a dark, regretful anger like the storm outside. How had she been so foolish? Why had she labored so long, devoted her heart and her soul to a man who would not lift a finger to save her, but only change his mind when he suffered some calamity, and even now, he only talked of money? And then to save his name?
“What, sweetling?” He blinked owlishly as Emilia felt sobs rack her chest.
“Father…I…I don’t know what to say!” she whispered. “I am so angry I can’t even begin to speak it.”
“Angry?” he stared at her, frowning in perplexity. “Why so?” He looked genuinely shocked.
“Because you don’t care about me!” Emilia heard her voice rise, but she knew there was nothing she could do, now, to hold back the tides of pain and agony. “You say now that you can get well, that you can turn this situation around because you want to save your name before you die!”
Her father frowned. “Not so loud, sweetling,” he admonished. He sounded shocked. “You’ll make the…”
“I don’t care what happens! I need to shout!” Emilia was sobbing now, her hand covering her eyes. “I’ve risked everything, ruined my name…I’ve destroyed my reputation and risked the only man I ever loved. Because of you! And you wouldn’t actually lift a finger to help me! Not ever.”
She sobbed and her father said nothing. She could feel his presence at her right shoulder, and wondered, if he even cared one whit about anything she’d said.
She felt her sobs subside into hiccups. The pain – Luke’s love, his disappearance, the threat of the Duke’s abduction – all filled her up and then, slowly, like a tide, withdrew.
She turned and looked at her father. She half expected censure on his face, or anger. Instead, to her surprise, he had tears in his eyes. He reached across the table, resting his hand on top of hers.
“I’ve been a fool,” he said. “I’ve been blind my whole life. Blinded by pursuit of money… blinded mainly by my fears. I wanted to serve your mother, to do everything I could for her and protect her against bad things. She died and I could do nothing. I wanted to provide you with everything – so that you’d love me and I’d be worthy of that love. I spent money and made money and then gambling became my world. Only there could I feel in control. Foolish, really.” He chuckled. It was a sorrowful sound.
“Father…” Emilia squeezed his fingers. He shook his head.
“I thought only of what I shouldn’t do. I shouldn’t spend everything. I shouldn’t neglect the properties. I shouldn’t die with unsolved debt. I never, ever in my life, thought about what I wanted.”
“And what was that?” Emilia asked in a small voice.
“A small house, somewhere in the country, where I could see you, sometimes.”
They neither of them said anything. The room was utterly silent. Emilia lost all sense of time and perspective. All she thought about was her father, and what he had just said.
Where I could see you, sometimes.
She turned and looked at him. He blinked his pale eyes, tears running down his gaunt cheeks and into the neck of his jacket. He shook his head.
“I don’t deserve your forgiveness,” he whispered.
Emilia felt a ghost of a smile tug at her. “I’ll reserve judgement on that,” she said. “But you know what? By saying that, you just earned it. My only question is, why did you never tell me? Why were you so busy chasing the money, so preoccupied with saving face that you never thought of me?”
“Well…I reckon that I thought you’d think I was imposing on your future in a selfish way. You might not want me around. Not like that.” He gave a smile.
Emilia stared at him. She felt her fingers clench tight. Of all the stupid things! Here her father was, refusing to make any change to his situation because he thought it was selfish to want to see her, sometimes! She wanted to cry.
“You do know, don’t you, that by being so selfless, you’ve ended up being ten times more selfish than anything I can imagine?” she demanded.
He swallowed hard. But his eyes, when they held hers, were brave. “What happened?” he asked.
“I lost Luke…I mean, Lord Westmore. And I risked my reputation for you, three times, and…” She started to sob again, all the memories and pain and anger at his selfishness suddenly flooding through her, filling her thoughts. Was it ever going to be possible, to see past it all?
He squeezed her hand. “Oh, my sweetling…I’ve been such a fool. But it doesn’t matter what I’ve been. This isn’t my story. It’s yours. And it hasn’t been for far too long. What can we do to put this right? I’ll do anything.”
Emilia looked at him. His blue eyes were level, without that wary fear she’d seen in them for far too long. He was looking at her like the old Father, the one who she remembered. The one who was brave and kind. She felt her heart soar. She hadn’t realized just how much she had missed him.
“I don’t know,” she said. “First, we need to find Lord Westmore.”
“I don’t know the name,” he said, frowning. He ran his tongue around his teeth, then shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I’ll find out. You like him, eh?”
“With all my heart,” she whispered.
Father and daughter looked at one another. Emilia felt her heart soften, seeing the look of tenderness that lit his eyes up. He squeezed her hand. “I’ve seen that look on a face before,” he said softly. “My own. When I first saw your mother.”
Emilia nodded. “I love him, Father.”
He nodded. “I see. And, you know what? Love supersedes everything. It’s about time I reiterated that. I said it when I met your mama, and I was determined to marry her whatever the cost. Now, I say it again. We’re not going to bother about debts and dues and duty anymore. We’re only doing one thing. And that is honoring all kinds of love.”
Emilia blinked, tear
s flooding down her face. “Oh, Father,” she whispered again. Her voice was cracked with emotion. “I love you.”
“I know that,” he said softly. “And it’s been too long since I realized what it meant, or how lucky I am for it. I’m damn lucky you still do,” he added, with a slow nod.
Emilia reached for him and wrapped that frail, weary body in her arms, squeezing him against her chest. She laughed, blinking her eyes free of the tears that still, unbidden, ran down her face. “Father, of course I do. Nothing is stronger than love.”
