She trusted four months was too long for her papa to stay away from home.
“I hope you don’t plan to stay here in London that long,” Hildegarde said. “A few days’ visit with your fiancé is unexceptionable, but to virtually move into his house—”
“Oh no! I shall be returning to Whitehern very soon.”
“The doctor thought the change would be good for Miss Foxworth’s cold. And the noise of replacing the roof, you know, was hard on her nerves,” Nick added. Then he recalled that the Milmonts had been at Whitehern and no repairs were in progress.
“I saw no signs of the workmen,” Mr. Milmont mentioned.
“They’re doing a little job for me at the moment,” Hansard said, without blinking. “Emma was kind enough to allow them to interrupt the work on her roof to do my conservatory roof, as it was leaking rather badly. In fact, that is how we came to—to become engaged,” he said.
“How romantic!” Hildegarde sighed.
James looked at her askance. “Love on a rooftop? It sounds highly dangerous. Take care you don’t fall, Nick.”
“I cannot think they were actually
on
the roof, Lord James,” Hildegarde chided gently. “But then you are a jokesmith. I recognized your little poem about His Highness’s dog. Alexander Pope, I believe. So clever. A great pity he was so deformed.”
“Was it Pope? He does not usually resort to doggerel. A pun! How clever of me.”
Hildegarde frowned in confusion. Puns, or any sort of levity, were completely foreign to her. Besides, the unaccustomed wickedness of champagne was making her sleepy. She soon began yawning behind her fingers, and she and Mr. Milmont were shown above-stairs to chambers that gave them an even higher regard for their new in-law to be. Nick had whispered to his butler to remove the French paintings of nudes from the green and blue guest chambers and replace them with landscapes, and had dallied along the way until the switch could be accomplished.
Chapter Twenty-one
A midnight supper was being served when Emma and Nick rejoined the party.
“I’m sorry, Nick,” Emma said. “Naturally we shall find some excuse to break the engagement before September.” She waited on nettles to see if he agreed.
“We’ll talk about it later. We must return to our guests and make some excuse for that interlude in the hall. Everyone will be wondering.”
Emma was left in doubt as to his intentions. Surely he would have said something if he truly wanted to marry her.
James had preceded them to the supper room. To atone for his abduction of Emma, he had told everyone that a pair of lunatics had escaped from Bedlam and found their way to Hansard’s door. The story was so well circulated that it proved impossible to scotch. Only Lord Sanichton knew the truth, and he was so ashamed at not having stood up for Emma that he pretended to believe it.
It was two o’clock before the last guest left.
“Now we can have that chat,” Nick said, taking Emma’s hand and leading her to the saloon.
During the long supper, Nick had paid her scarcely any heed. He was too busy talking away the intrusion of the uninvited guests. Emma had come to the conclusion that her father and her aunt, if not her own behavior, had given Nick a disgust of her. Her shoulders sagged from the fatigue of feigning merriment.
“If I had ever dreamed it would turn out like this I would have accepted Derek’s offer,” she said. “Nothing could be as bad as this.”
Nick studied her pale face, which was heavy with regret. “You’re hard on me, Emma. I assure you I have no notion of turning Whitehern into a stud farm.”
“I don’t mean that. You were splendid, Nick. A complete hand.” A wistful smile tugged at her lips. “Did you see Aunt Hildegarde stare when she realized you really are a lord?”
“I was too busy watching you wilt.”
“And Sanichton. What a takein. And the curious thing is that we were just on our way to the saloon for him to propose.”
Nick studied her quietly, with a dark, penetrating gaze. “What answer did you intend to give him?”
“I meant to tell him we would not suit. He was much too good for me. And so are you,” she said, smiling softly at him. “We shall let Papa and Aunt Hildegarde go home before we break if off. If we don’t make any formal announcement, there is no reason your friends need ever know.” She watched for his reaction, but saw only a gathering frown.
“I don’t give a tinker’s curse what my friends think.”
“It would be embarrassing for you to be jilted—but not so embarrassing as being married to someone like me.”
“Emma,” he chided, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. “Don’t speak of yourself in such unflattering terms.”
“It’s true. I’m horrid. I have no notion how to go on in Society.”
“Yet despite your provincial ways, everyone likes you.”
“Well, they accept me, so long as I bring John’s estate with me. But that’s not the worst of it. I’ve been lying to Papa and chasing after a husband when John is—”
“Is long dead and buried. Any young lady in your position would do the same thing. I abetted you in the lies to your papa, and now that I’ve met him, I feel we were justified. He is overly strict. Don’t feel guilty, Emma. It’s natural to want to be married and have a family. I want it myself.”
“And now I’ve thrown this obstacle in your path!”
“I don’t consider an engagement to the lady I love an obstacle to marriage. Quite the contrary.”
Emma looked at him with a questioning gaze, which slowly turned to trembling joy as she realized he was serious. “The lady you—love?” she asked in a whisper.
“With all my heart, for as long as I’ve known you. I’m a demmed fool. If I hadn’t got on my high horse when you offered for me—”
“Oh Nick, don’t remind me of that humiliating evening.”
“But did you mean it? Did you want to marry me?”
She caught his gaze and held it. “I wouldn’t have asked you if I didn’t,” she said simply.
“You mentioned a marriage of convenience ...”
A spark of remembered anger flashed in her eyes, making her look more like the Emma he loved. “An inconvenient marriage, I should have said. As if I’d be satisfied with that. I only said it after you turned me down flat. Naturally I couldn’t let you think I really cared.”
“Naturally,” he said, chewing back a smile at her frankness. “Now that we have got that cleared up ... Emma, I do want to marry you.” He drew her into the circle of his arms, and she went without protesting.
She peered up at him with trusting eyes. “Do you really, Nick? You’re not saying it to be kind?”
“Where did you get the absurd idea I’m kind? I’m saying it because it’s true.”
She tossed caution to the wind and threw her arms around his neck. “It took you long enough to realize it!”
“I’ve known it for ages now,” he said. “I just didn’t know I knew it.” The last words were muffled as he crushed her against him and lowered his lips to hers for a scorching kiss.
The vague discontent he had felt when Emma first showed an interest in James, his new dislike for Sanichton—all had become crystal clear. It was jealousy, plain and simple, and he hadn’t even recognized it. But at least he recognized love when he held it in his arms. The swelling joy, the fierce protective instinct, the sense of tightness that filled him as the kiss deepened to passion could only be love.
It was some time later that she sat with her head on his shoulder, with Nick running his fingers through her silky curls. They were talking and laughing over their strange romance.
“If we married soon, your papa and aunt could attend the wedding without having to make a return journey,” he suggested.
“I would like that,” she admitted shyly. “I have been feeling so wretched about all my dishonesty with Papa. He doesn’t mean to be so—” She couldn’t find words for his particular brand of interference. “He is only interested in my welfare. Would you mind terribly?”
“I would like it. You can’t jettison family, whatever their shortcomings. For myself, I think he did a fine job of raising his daughter.”
“I told them you’re busy at Whitehall,” she said, and looked to Nick for a solution to this little problem.
“But if Lord Liverpool should catch a cold, then we could have a week to ourselves.”
“They won’t stay long if we are leaving for our honeymoon. They’ll want to see Waterdown, so that Hildegarde can boast to all her friends.”
“I’ll have a few footmen go up to your roof to lend credence to the roof story.”
Emma turned an adoring smile on her fiancé. “You think of everything, Nick. I’m so glad you accepted my offer—at last.”
“Someone has to keep you in line,” he murmured, and kissed her again.
Copyright © 1997 by Joan Smith
Originally published by Fawcett Crest (0449225526)
Electronically published in 2007 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads
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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.