Chapter Nineteen
After escorting Emma to Sweetspire Estates, Michael went into town to secure a carriage and driver to collect him the day after tomorrow. He did not bother to look at the carriage he still owned. It had not been driven in several years, for one, and for another, he had no driver nor horses - besides Balder, who would not take kindly to having a harness attached to a trace forced upon him.
Once he had found an acceptable carriage to hire, he returned home to pour himself his customary brandy and stared into the fire. His mind replayed the events of the past week, and he could not rid himself of the fact that Emma no longer being present left a void in the house.
Why had the quiet never been noticeable before? In fact, he now realized this very night just how lonely he was without her presence. How strange to go from a man who preferred solitude to one who wished for the company of a lovely lady.
Taking a sip of his brandy, he thought over her words the day before. She had spoken of two men, one with a kind heart and the other a drunken rogue. Which was he truly?
He glared down at his glass. The drink was doing nothing to ease his pain tonight. Maybe he had not consumed enough. Well, he would take care of that problem!
The fire crackled, sending sparks into the air. Emma was very much like that fire. At times she was no more than a spark at the ready, but when she spoke her mind, that spark became a raging blaze that roared with bright flames. Fire could warm, but it also could burn, and he had no idea which he considered the Shepherd woman.
Whichever he thought she was, he was now harnessed to her as easily as a horse needed to pull a carriage. A fake engagement? What had he been thinking?
What bothered him more was that he had no idea what to think of his words. Had his outburst to Mrs. Benedict been to cover the truth or had he hoped he spoke the truth in some way? The former certainly was the case, but an inkling of the latter played at the edges of his mind. The true question was what did Emma believe? A part of him hoped she secretly wanted it to be the latter, as well.
He snorted and gulped the remainder of his drink. Even if the deed to the estate was returned to him and the house was once more filled with furnishings and servants, who would he be? A man with a myriad of faults a woman as lovely as Emma would be unable to look past.
He had no reason to believe she could care for him in the same manner he did for her. Nor should he expect her to, not out of some sort of misguided belief that she owed him her life. He had reacted as any man should have in each of those situations.
“I do not care for her,” he whispered as he walked over to refill his glass. Despite the utterance, however, he recognized the old feelings that stirred within him. Deny it all he wanted, those feelings had come on with a vengeance when she had kissed him today.
He ran his hand through his hair in vexation. Had she not admitted her own feelings? Somehow, she saw a person inside him he would never have recognized, not now, not after all he had done. Yet, now that she had pointed him out, he could not help but consider that the man did indeed exist.
With a sigh, he returned to the empty couch, moved the blanket Emma had carefully folded, and placed it on the arm. He dropped into the cushion with a sigh. How he wished she was there telling him a story of her youth or sharing her hopes and dreams.
A loud knock broke him from his thoughts, and he smiled. So, Emma had missed him as much as he did her, did she?
He went to answer the door, but it was not Emma who stood there.
“We must talk,” Lord Whisken growled as he pushed past Michael without as much as an invitation to enter. The man’s black carriage gleamed in the sunlight as it sat in the drive, and not for the first time, Michael considered that it matched the man’s soul. Why was he here?
“What is it you need?” Michael demanded. He could do nothing about this man’s intrusion - he was the property owner, after all. Not that Michael did not resent his present situation, but Lord Whisken had every right to throw Michael out of the house for any reason, and Michael preferred not to see that happen.
Lord Whisken glanced around the foyer with a scowl. “I do not wish to discuss business here.” He did not wait for Michael’s response and walked to the parlor, tossing his coat over the back of the couch before walking over to warm his hands before the fire. “What kind of host does not invite a guest into his home? And do you mean to not offer me a drink?” He clicked his tongue as if he were correcting a child.
“Yes, of course,” Michael said. He went over and poured the man a brandy and refilled his own glass. “I’m surprised to see you have returned to Bottly so soon. I had thought the winter months would see you gone for some time.”
“I have no schedule,” Lord Whisken said. “I do as I please when I please.” He narrowed his eyes at Michael. “I heard you were found in a compromising position with a lady named Miss Emma Shepherd. Kissing on the portico? Is this true?”
Michael knew Mrs. Benedict would be spreading her gossip, but he had not expected it to have flowed so quickly. “Indeed,” he replied. “The woman kissed me right there in front of the house.”
How he despised this old man! It took every ounce of his being to keep from smiling as he thought of that moment he would best the man at cards.
Lord Whisken took a drink and then bored cold gray eyes into Michael. “Tell me, Bracken, what was the lady doing at your estate?”
Worry crept into Michael’s bones. He could not reveal this truth - that Emma had been in his residence for an entire week unchaperoned. Her reputation would be ruined no matter if they married or not. “Miss Shepherd is a neighbor and friend. She came to check on my wellbeing after the storm.”
“A friend, you say?” Lord Whisken asked with amusement. “A woman who comes alone to a man’s house is more than a friend, Bracken. Is her virtue intact?”
“I hardly think…”
“Answer me,” the old man asked, his voice rising. “I want to know if the woman is spoiled.”
“As far as I know, she is as pure as the snow. She is a good respectable woman.”
“Good.” Lord Whisken clapped Michael on the shoulder, and for a moment, a sense of relief flooded Michael. “I understand I have reason to congratulate you. I hear you are to be married. Is this true?”
Did he continue to lie, or should he speak the truth? This man could hurt Michael in so many ways and possibly in ways Michael had not considered. Perhaps the truth would be best in this case. Lord Whisken had never been one to gossip. Even after taking Michael’s land, the man had not been the one to reveal it to the ton. Too many people had been in attendance on that fateful day to keep it hidden, however.
“I thought it was in her best interest to fake an engagement,” he admitted finally. “Mrs. Benedict would see the woman’s name dragged through the mud and her head on a pike if she could.”
Lord Whisken smirked. “I did not realize that we had anything in common, but Miss Emma Shepherd is of interest to me. And you know I always protect my interests.”
Michael’s heart raced. What did this man mean? How could Emma be of any interest to him?
As if hearing Michael’s thoughts, Lord Whisken walked over to where the brandy sat and helped himself to another glass. “I returned to my estate not a month ago, and whilst in town, I saw Miss Shepherd, though she did not see me. Do you know what I saw?”
Michael shook his head. “No,” he managed to say, though his throat was so dry he wondered how the word was spoken.
The man turned and smiled, an evil smile if Michael had ever seen one. “I saw a woman with a generous bosom and well-formed hips, one I desire to have in my bed. To claim the virtue of such a beautiful lady is what I want, and you know better than anyone that I always get what I want.”
Michael swallowed hard. “I do.” He had to clench his fists to keep from driving them into the man’s face. This was not what he wanted for Emma! Her kind heart did not deserve such treatment.
Lord Whisken did
not seem to take any notice of Michael’s rising anger, or if he did, he ignored it. “I will be hosting a party in eight days. You will bring her to me then.”
How could he possibly betray Emma in such a way? She had already agreed to attend this man’s next party, to be sure, but her agreement had been as a way to help Michael see returned what had been taken from him. What Lord Whisken suggested - no demanded - did not sit well with Michael. He had to do something, say anything, to keep Emma away from such a situation.
“I do not believe the woman will be an easy conquest,” Michael said. “She does not fall for flowery words or light caresses. Not that I know firsthand mind you,” he added hastily when the other man frowned.
“That is not your concern,” Lord Whisken snapped. “Your only concern is to do as I request and nothing more.”
A battle raged in Michael and his heart tore in half. He wanted nothing more than to protect Emma from the likes of this scoundrel, but what choices did he have? If he crossed this man…
No, he had to find a way. “I have mentioned to her in passing the parties you offer. The woman may be fond of me, but I doubt I will be able to convince her to even entertain the idea of attending.” Sweat broke out on his brow. “And to be honest, I would not blame her. She is young and would not wish to risk tarnishing her reputation.”
Lord Whisken studied Michael for a moment. “You do have feelings for this woman, do you not?” he asked flatly. “And you had best not lie to me, for I will know as soon as the words leave your lips.”
Michael shook his head. “No, of course not. I do value her friendship, however.”
At this, Lord Whisken roared with laughter and walked over to stand in front of Michael. “You are worse than a drunkard; you are a fool. What happened the last time you cared so much for a woman?”
Memories of Caroline came to mind, but he pushed them away. Emma was not she. “Emma is…”
“Worth losing what little you still have?” Lord Whisken finished for him, his tone mocking. “Worth those puny businesses and what is left of your name?” The man sighed dramatically. “Well, if she means that much to you, who am I to ask you to bring her? I cannot be angry with a man who puts his woman first.”
Michael could not stop his eyes from widening. “You will not be angry if I’m unable to persuade her to attend?”
“Not at all,” Lord Whisken replied. His smile did not reach his eyes. “It will be with great joy that I evict you from my house. I will relish in watching as you roam the streets begging for money. To see you suffer, your family’s name ruined, and the ton spitting upon your worthlessness.” He was scowling by the end of the tirade.
“This home has been in my family’s possession nearly a hundred years,” Michael said, horrified at the man’s words, though it made no sense. The house no longer belonged to him, but he could not imagine being tossed out like rubbish. “Surely you would not evict me, not after promising to allow me to remain.”
“Have you not learned what I’m capable of yet, Bracken?”
Michael hung his head in shame. Lord Whisken had done far worse than take his land; he had also taken away Michael’s ability to stand on his own two feet.
“My proposition is simple,” Lord Whisken said. “Convince the woman to accompany you to my party where I will woo her with words and then a game of chance to get what I want.”
Michael’s head shot up. “You would gamble her virtue as a wager?” he asked in astonishment.
“Of course. Once she has had a few drinks and loses all her inhibitions, I shall engage her in a friendly game of parlay. After allowing her to win several hands, I will ask that her virtue be the stake.” The man’s laugh made the hairs on Michael’s neck rise. “It is always fun to take their virtue when they believe they can best me in a game of chance. And as you know firsthand, no one is capable of that.”
Michael’s stomach clenched all the more as Lord Whisken clasped him on the shoulder. “Oh, yes, you know all too well the power I possess. But you really should receive something in return for your part in getting me what I want. A reward of sorts.”
“What would that be?” Michael asked, not wanting to look at the man. “Do you wish that I suffer more?”
Lord Whisken laughed. “Not at all. In fact, your holdings that you lost to me? This house? The businesses? I will return them all to you in exchange for your part in this.”
The words nearly caused Michael to stumble. “Are you jesting? Playing with me like a cat plays with a mouse?”
“You know me better than that,” Lord Whisken replied, laughing again. “To claim such a beauty for my bed is worth all that and more. Granted, I could approach her in town or at another party, but it must happen in this manner. You must bring her to me.” The man’s eyes glowed with desire. “Now, all you must do is get her to come of her own free will. That is important. If you must force her, then the deal is off and other…arrangements will be made.”
Everything Michael had wanted for so long was within his reach, yet he struggled. “I do not know,” he said. “It would be wonderful to have what I had lost.”
“Then I will ask once more. Will Miss Shepherd be attending my party? Or will fate repeat itself?” He laughed that maniacal laugh again.
Michael’s temper boiled over and he took the few steps forward until his face was inches from that of Lord Whisken. “You will not speak of…”
Unable to finish the thought as the man glared at him, Michael took a step back, his bravado dissipating. Lord Whisken had not flinched in the slightest, but his gaze had hardened, if that were possible.
“You are asking me to betray Miss Shepherd,” Michael said, wishing he did not sound meek. “I’m not sure I can do that.”
“She will betray you,” Lord Whisken said, his voice calm. “Just as Caroline did, Miss Shepherd will do the same.”
If Michael could have been able to do so without fear of repercussions, he would have murdered this man where he stood. Lord Whisken was an evil man who cared for no one but himself. Yet, just like in the past, there was nothing Michael could do. Lord Whisken owned everything Michael had, even Michael himself, and if he did not do the man’s bidding, Michael would find himself taken out of the frying pan and thrown into the fire.
“All this to simply get her into your bed?” Michael asked.
“What I will do is none of your concern,” Lord Whisken snapped. “This will be the last time I ask. Will you lose what little you have left or will you bring her to me and earn back everything you lost?”
Guilt and shame for his failures washed over him. Michael had made so many wrong choices in his life, and he had no one to blame but himself for his current situation. He was a baron, but his title would not keep a roof over his head or food in his stomach. Or brandy in his glass.
He raised his eyes to gaze levelly at Lord Whisken, though he shook inside. “She will be there.” The words came out thick on his tongue.
“Good.” Lord Whisken placed his glass on the mantle. “If you decide to go back on your word, or if you attempt to warn the woman beforehand, I make you another promise.”
“And what is that?” Michael asked.
The cold eyes of the other man bore into him. “If I must seek her out myself, which is what will happen if you do not get her there, my plans for her will be all the more brutal. If you must, think of your participation as a means to keep me from taking out all my wrath on her. You of all people know what I’m capable of.” Then, as if an afterthought, he added, “I will also see you die in this very house, and I promise you it will be a slow, agonizing death.”
Michael could do nothing more than nod, for he knew the man would keep those promises.
“I will see myself out.”
Once he heard the slamming of the front door, Michael thought he would sick up. There was so much to lose if he did not take Emma to the man’s party, yet how could he betray a woman he had come to care for? Yes, she had already agreed to go, but he
r motivation had been to lend him aid.
What a predicament he had gotten himself into! Lord Whisken did not lie. He always received what he desired and that thought increased Michael’s anguish. If Michael told Emma the truth, Lord Whisken would follow through on his threats the same as if Michael had not taken her to the party in the first place. Yet, if he did allow her to go with him and Lord Whisken got what he wanted, she would hate him. And she would have every right!
No matter what choice Michael made, either he or Emma would end up in ruin. In such a situation, only one person would win. Lord Whisken.
***
It had been two days since Emma last saw Michael, and she awoke feeling well-rested and excited for his arrival. She chose a pale blue muslin dress with intricate patterns in white stitching across the bodice. Sally was brushing her hair as Emma sat in front of the vanity mirror, and they spoke about Emma’s part in helping Michael.
“That is why I must play the role of a mistress,” Emma said. “Apparently, this Lord Whisken will not allow a man to gamble without one in attendance.”
“What an odd rule,” Sally said with a shake of her head. She stopped the brush and looked at Emma through the reflection. “Do you think Michael told you this as a guise to kiss you? Or more?”
Emma shook her head. “No, I do not think so.” She frowned as she worked the situation in her head. Then she laughed. “No. It is not possible. The man respects me. What kind of rogue looks after a woman when she falls ill? He is unheard of. If anything, he would have taken advantage of me while I was at my most vulnerable. He would have had no reason for a charade.”
Sally placed a hand on Emma’s shoulder. “You must be careful with these new feelings,” she advised. “Do not let them cloud your judgment, nor your heart. You must keep your guard up and remain steadfast.”
Barons Always Win Wagers (Forbidden Kisses Book 3) Page 14
