Intertwine (36 page)

Marianne raised her chin a little more, buoyed by James’ support.

“Indeed,” she said in ringing tones. “I have obeyed your wishes long enough, Timothy. I love you dearly, but enough is enough. Arthur and I wish to marry. I would appreciate it if you gave us your blessing, but I will not ask for it.” She took a deep breath. “I do not require it.”

Linwood let out a snort. “I cannot believe that you are actually thinking of allying yourself with this . . . this family. It is not to be born,” he said disdainfully gesturing toward James. “A man who blatantly keeps an unknown woman of most likely ill repute under his roof with his unwed sister.”

Emme raised an eyebrow, but Georgiana let out a small indignant cry.

“How dare you imply such a thing, Lord Linwood!” Georgiana exclaimed. “Miss Emma has been all that is proper.”

“Bah,” Linwood scoffed. “What else explains her presence here? She has no connections. No one has come to claim her. The woman is a disgrace!”

Emme exchanged a glance with James, easily reading his thoughts. There was no helping it. They were going to have to tell them about her returned memory.

But the truth was just, well, too truthful. They wouldn’t believe it. And in the end, the truth wasn’t necessary. They just needed something that would allay Linwood’s concerns.

“With all due respect, my lord,” Emme began, taking a deep breath. “My memory has returned. And I can assure you that I am not what you have asserted me to be.”

Emme heard Georgiana’s shocked gasp next to her.

“I’m sorry, Georgiana. I should have told you sooner,” Emme said pleadingly. “But the truth is somewhat complicated and . . . sensitive.”

If she intended to lie, Emme figured she might as well make it a good one.

Georgiana looked at her with wide surprised eyes.

“Sensitive?” Arthur asked.

“Sensitive, indeed.” Linwood sounded incredulous.

“Yes, my lord. I will have to swear you all to secrecy, however. It’s a matter of national honor and security.”

“Pray continue, Miss Emma. We are all eagerness to hear your story.” Linwood said, his tone dry and sarcastic.

“Well, where should I begin?” Emme paused, trying to pull her story together. All eyes in the room stared at her, expectant and waiting. James looked decidedly amused. With a glance in his direction, she had a flash of inspiration.

“You see, first of all, my name is Emry Wilde, not Emma. I am an American.” She dropped her British accent. “Well, my mother is American, my father British. My father’s family has noble connections. My grandmother often mentioned how much she enjoyed visiting her Cavendish cousins on the Duke of Devonshire’s estate. In any case, I grew up between both countries. . . .”

Emme paused as everyone continued to stare at her. She took a deep breath.

Simple. She needed to keep this simple.

“As you well know, the British are currently at war with the United States,” she resumed and then winced slightly.

Okay, probably not good to remind them of that.

Moving on.

“My mother’s family has been long involved in travel. . . .” Emme paused, briefly trying to gather her thoughts. “Perhaps more like merchant trade than travel, which of course is a sore point with my father’s more illustrious relatives. . . . Therefore, I have spent most of my life abroad, moving amongst various peoples.”

That was better.

“So, . . . while living in Nassau several years ago, I was privileged to make the acquaintance of . . . of her most royal Highness, Princess Pepsi of
Toyota Camry
. . . which is a small principality to the east of the Crimean, south of Russia proper.”

That bit she said as an aside to Georgiana, as if that easily explained everything.

Linwood blinked. “Why would a royal princess from the middle of Russia be in the Bahamas?”

“Excellent point, my lord, I wondered the very same thing,” Emme agreed. Paused. “Perhaps she found the weather pleasing. It is lovely and warm year round in Nassau, and Her Highness does suffer from arthritis.”

Okay, so maybe not so simple.

But there was no going back now.

Time to work in some history.

“Her Highness was most concerned over the state of affairs in her small country, because at that time as you know, Russia was currently allied with Napoleon in the war against Britain. Her Highness desperately wished to sway Russia’s alliance back to Britain. She encouraged me, along with his grace, Calvin Klein, the Grand Duke of Kleenex, to assist them in their cause.”

Emme settled in. It was flowing better now.

“My brother, Mr. Marcus Wilde, currently runs our family affairs and I found myself accompanying him—acting as his hostess—but also relaying information whenever possible to assist the people of Toyota Camry in their plight. In early April of this year, I received intelligence which led me to believe the French would invade Russia as soon as mid-June, formally breaking their alliance and allowing Russia to ally itself with Britain. But the wicked French spy,
Buick Chevrolet
, was on my heels. I was captured and hit over the head and must have been left for dead here in Marfield. But for Mr. Knight’s fortunate presence, I greatly fear the worst would have happened.”

No one said a word after she finished.

So much for simplicity. This exemplified why lying was a bad idea in the first place.

Silence.

“That is remarkable,” Georgiana looked awestruck. “I had never contemplated such possibilities, and I thought I had considered everything.” She paused, a stunned grin spreading across her face. “Though it most certainly explains why certain things were familiar to you and others were not. Where do you think the wicked
Buick Chevrolet
is now? I fear for your safety.”

“I do believe other British agents have caught up with him,” James offered quietly. “At least my discrete inquiries have indicated as much. Our dear Miss Wilde should be safe.”

Emme risked a sideways glance at James, willing herself not to smile.

“Indeed, it is quite the tale,” Linwood intoned. “And if I were not privy to information that France did indeed begin an invasion of Russia only ten days ago, I would find it hard to believe. You really expect me to believe that you are a spy, Miss Wilde?”

“Yes, my lord, I do. My brother, Mr. Marc Wilde, has been well-trained in the secret Oriental arts of the ninja, assassins in the service of Japanese samurai. Training that he passed on to me, as well. I have found it to be most useful.”

Linwood merely cocked a decidedly wary eyebrow at her.

“Indeed,” he repeated.

Emme grabbed and held his gaze. “Indeed, my lord. I have found my skills to be particularly useful in defending myself against ill-mannered, boorish men.”

Linwood clenched his jaw, sucking in a breath at her not-so-subtle jab.

“And zombies,” James deadpanned. “Her ninja skills are also useful against zombies.”

And, really, that did it.

Any part of Emme that had not been in love with James thoroughly collapsed in that instant. She was his. Utterly and completely.

The moment was beyond perfect. The most perfect of all her perfect memories.

“And would you also care to explain how this account of your history renders you respectable, Miss Wilde? It sounds as if your family is in trade.” Linwood’s tone remained skeptical.

“Heavens, Linwood,” James exclaimed. “Our Miss Wilde is something of a national hero, aiding our country in her time of need. And you did catch the part about Miss Wilde being a cousin to the Duke of Devonshire?” James asked pointedly, as if that explained everything. “Such an illustrious connection cannot be overlooked.”

Linwood nodded his head slowly.

James did not wait for Linwood’s response but continued, “Miss Wilde is hardly what you think her to be. And I do believe we were discussing Arthur and Marianne’s future, which really is not tied to Miss Wilde’s past.”

Linwood sighed and stood stiffly, looking back at his sister and Arthur, still standing hand in hand. Marianne’s chin determined and firm.

James took a step closer to Linwood. “What say you, Timothy?” he asked quietly. “Look at them. They are so in love. Why not let at least this little corner of the world experience some happiness? Between you and I, we will ensure that they will want for nothing. And Arthur will always treat her with love and respect. You of all people should know that.”

Linwood stood still for a few moments. And then Emme noticed a small sag in his shoulders. A weary sign of acceptance.

He let out a long breath.

“Please call on me tomorrow at Kinningsley, Arthur, to discuss your future with my sister.”

“Oh, Timothy!” Marianne cried and launched herself into her brother’s arms. “Thank you so!”

Linwood grimaced at her display of affection, but he did wrap his arms around her and return her embrace.

Chapter 29

On a country road outside Marfield

Five days later

July 11, 1812

D
oes that cloud look green to you?” Georgiana asked.

A bilious thundercloud loomed ominously over them.

The skies had been clear earlier when Emme and Georgiana had left Haldon Manor to take a basket of goodies to Auntie Gray. All day, the air had been heavy with summer. Hot and sticky.

But now, as Emme drove the gig the last few miles to Haldon Manor, the weather had shifted. Wind whipped through the trees and the clouds had turned the most alarming shade.

James had been gone for three days and Emme felt the painful ache of his absence. Spunto had delivered the finished portrait, lovely and bright on its thin ivory board. Now the panel needed to be set into a locket. Given the complexity of the design, James had decided to deliver it personally to a jeweler in London.

Their last conversation still lingered, playing over and over in Emme’s mind.

“I wish I could go with you. London would be fascinating,” she had said, sitting on the settee in his study.

James merely nodded, coming to sit beside her, nestling her hand into his.

“I wish you could come as well, my love. But Georgiana’s health will not permit her to come, and you and I cannot travel together unchaperoned. With Arthur’s betrothal to Marianne officially announced, I feel responsible to preserve some sense of propriety until their wedding in autumn. Though they have not yet decided, I do not think that they will marry before the year of mourning for Marianne’s mother is through.” James leaned in and brushed his lips across her cheek.

“Besides I promise to return within a fortnight. No longer.”

“A fortnight? Oh dear, so long?”

James laughed. “This is not the 21st century. I can only travel as quickly as my horse. Things take longer, my dear. Patience. I will need to see my London solicitors in regard to some estate business as well.”

“And what will we do when you return?”

“Well, the locket will take time to create. I will merely be delivering the painted panel and ordering the case when I go to London. From there, I will most likely need to return to retrieve it when it is finished. Duir Cottage should be completed by autumn. My thoughts had been to address our possible leaving sometime after that.”

Emme nodded in agreement. “I was also thinking about the locket. Perhaps we should give it to Auntie Gray? Who knows how it came to be in Portland, Oregon, but I would trust Auntie to understand how and when to send it on its way.”

“Brilliant, my love,” James grinned in agreement. “Auntie is the perfect choice. Now come, no more glum looks. You may save them all for when I am gone and you pine for me. Even take some photos of yourself at your saddest to torment me with when I return.” He laughed as Emme swatted his shoulder. “Promise me you will miss me terribly?” He pressed his forehead against hers, eyes teasing.

“You know I will,” she murmured against his mouth. “Every possible second.” And then he kissed her, long and sweet.

Emme smiled at the memory.

Wind suddenly buffeted the gig, and Emme clicked at their horse. James was still at least ten long days from returning. She sighed, feeling the twinge of him not being at her side. Emme had taken to wearing the locket obsessively in his absence. Its comforting weight helped to banish some of her loneliness.