The Reluctant Bride (13 page)

Grief, she acknowledged, was like a painful canker that healed slowly.

Angus joined her at the railing, a faint smile curving his lips as he stared into the glittering waters, as if yesterday's exchange had not taken place. For the benefit of her parents they'd been civil, almost conversational, over dinner.

Angling his body to face her, he said, ‘I thought I might find you here. It's lovely at this time of morning, isn't it?' He raised an eyebrow. ‘However, you don't want to be late for breakfast, Emily. I suspect your father does not like to be kept waiting.'

His proximity was disturbing, for the hands he rested upon the railing were close to hers, but he made no attempt to touch her. It was a shock to acknowledge that every time he'd come near her since he'd returned from abroad she'd deliberately recalled Jack's image as some kind of safeguard against the curious, mixed feelings that kindled within her when she found herself alone with her husband. Surely it was wrong that she had to remind herself where her true loyalties lay?

‘It was kind of you to invite my parents.' She felt afraid to meet his eye as a gust of wind ruffled the surface of the lake.

‘You've nothing of which to be ashamed.' Angus rested his chin on his fisted hand as he relaxed against the railing and she turned her head, heart hammering suddenly to meet his gaze, dark with the intensity of his feelings. ‘I've told you that, Emily, and now your father's confirmed it. You're beautiful and clever and witty and you have your future before you. You can make as much or as little of local society as you wish. Caroline is your ally. We all are.'

She gaped at him. What did he know of her ability to charm? And what did he know of local society? She was terrified of her inevitable initiation. Would people know? Suspect? Would there be whispers? The cut direct, even?

‘Witty? I don't think I've ever made you laugh, Angus.' It was a self-deprecating statement which she bore up with, ‘I've been nothing but churlish and ungrateful. I wonder you can still speak in a civil fashion to me.' The words were catharsis. She felt a curious flowering in the darkest recesses of her heart.

‘We've not had an auspicious start and you've not been shown to advantage, it's true,' he conceded with a candour that took her aback. She must add ‘plain speaking' to her husband's list of recommendations. ‘But remember, I saw you at the Regimental Ball when you'd experienced none of the trials life has thrust upon you during the past six months.' He straightened, pretending a study of the half-moons of his fingernails. Almost shyly, he said, ‘I saw the impression you made on people.' When he glanced at her with his clear-eyed gaze she felt the inexplicable desire to put out her hand and trace the line of the scar upon his cheek.

She stopped herself, cocking her head as he continued. ‘Not just the men. The women sent you envious glances. You were dazzling. I was dazzled.' He gave a short laugh. ‘You looked so happy. As if you had the world and its moon at your beck and call … and I wanted you so badly.'

‘You … did?'

‘Emily, you will have the same effect on local society as you did back then. You can enjoy a good, rich life here … if you want.'

She was silent as she pondered this, aware of his closeness and aware of how much she wanted to bridge the distance between them.

He broke the long silence, saying in a lighter tone, ‘Your mother is astute. Amusing, too.'

‘I … never really thought much about it.'

‘She obviously enjoys little society, but she reads and listens. I was impressed.'

The warm glow in Emily's heart intensified. No one had ever praised her mother whom her father never lost an opportunity to belittle. She was about to tell him what that meant to her when he said abruptly, ‘Major Woodhouse wants me to go away again.'

‘So soon?' She was shocked by the extent of her dismay.

‘I have been home three weeks, Emily.'

‘Where are you going this time?' she murmured. ‘There is much you keep from me.'

Though his hand was less than an inch from hers he made no attempt to touch her. His shrug was almost imperceptible. ‘For your own good. Ensuring your well-being is the only reason I do not unburden myself. Not mistrust of you.'

It was what Major Woodhouse had intimated, but she didn't want to think of him. Angus's smile – wistful, as if he wished she appreciated his concern – nearly undid her and she found it difficult to concentrate on his next words, so busy was she trying to make sense of her desire that he take her in his arms.

‘Not only is my work important for keeping us in comfort, Emily, both now and in the future, it is vital for the security of our country.' He touched her cheek with the barest of caresses and she shivered, disappointed when he withdrew his hand and fixed his thoughtful gaze upon the lake. ‘Napoleon has been cutting a swathe through Europe unchecked for so long, we cannot take for granted our way of life here.' His jaw was clenched and his gentle look hardened. ‘We cannot take anything for granted and we all have a duty to safeguard what we hold dear, for ourselves and for those we love. The threat may seem diluted now, but it is real and there are enemies amongst us who would see Napoleon have his way'—his gaze held hers as if he wanted her to share his concern—‘at the expense of all we uphold as good and reasonable.'

‘There are some who say England's only enemies are the enemies within. What about the revolutionaries who smash the machines which would see England prosper? Those men who are destroying the new looms? The army had to be called in. Are they not more of a threat? You are a brave man, Angus.' She put her hand on his. ‘You risk your life because of your loyalty to England, and to me, but you are fighting for a foreign cause. I suppose there might be some benefit to restoring the French king, but Napoleon will never reach England. If you are more concerned with protecting those you love, would you not be better choosing a cause closer to home?' She sighed and when he prompted her to go on, saying that he wished to hear more of her thoughts on the crises at home and abroad, she realised she was only spouting Jack's beliefs. Still, Jack had told her more than Angus ever would.

She glanced at their hands, hers resting almost tentatively upon his, and made sure to wipe the uncertainty from her tone. Angus clearly had different beliefs and she was beginning to doubt her own. ‘Jack wanted to confine his work to England but, like you, he was in the pay of the British Government so had to follow orders.'

‘Then Jack was an odd choice for the kind of work he did.' Emily flinched at the scorn in his tone as he went on. ‘I would be wary of Jack's version of the truth.'

Emily raised her chin, her tenderness for her husband fast evaporating. Removing her hand from his, she gripped the railing and tried to steady her voice. ‘Are you calling Jack a liar?'

‘If I said I was'—a note of frustrated weariness had entered Angus's tone—‘the conversation would end, Emily, for you would turn your back on me and flounce back to the house.'

She gasped in outrage at the same time as acknowledging the truth of it.
Rein in your temper, Emily,
she exhorted herself.
You've played the ice maiden so long it's little wonder Angus thinks you still care only for Jack. He's deriding Jack because it's the only way he knows how to knock down the barrier between you and him. Do not be drawn.

However, the lessons she'd learned when responding to her father's taunts deserted her. Most of her life had been spent subsuming her inner desires, stifling her impulses. Jack had lifted the lid on her passions. Now Angus was tapping the well of her need to give sway to her deepest emotions.

Struggling for a deep breath, she pushed her shoulders back. ‘So Jack was a liar, was he?' She tossed her head to indicate her scepticism. ‘You believe he and my father underestimated the foreign threat to our country?'

‘I don't pretend to know what Jack believed in, Emily, but I believe he told you what it pleased him to tell you as it served his own ends.'

Her throat was suddenly very dry. She swallowed as her fury rose to fresh heights. ‘The only threat,' she said, her tone crisp to match his, ‘as I see it, is the threat Jack's heroic nature poses
your
situation. He cannot defend himself for he is dead while you have gained everything from his death. A death that occurred only on account of you!'

She'd not meant to bring it up, ever, for of course it was not Angus's fault that brave Jack had intervened in his defence.

‘Stop, Emily!' He gripped her shoulder as she flung away. ‘The story I told you to explain Jack's death—'

‘Oh, so that's not true, either?' If only the force of her outrage could fell him on the spot. She hated him. How could she ever have started entertaining tender feelings for this calculating husband of hers? She managed to twist out of his grip, but he was too quick for her.

‘Listen to me, Emily.' He jerked her forward, bringing his face close to hers. She heard the flapping of a bird's wings as it settled on the railing nearby, as if to gain amusement from their altercation. His breathing was fast and shallow. She heard it as she felt her own fear at what he might say.

‘Emily, there is something I should have told you before.' His voice was urgent. ‘Perhaps it's foolish of me to bring it up now when you are still mourning Jack and I'm about to go away again, but I've said too much and I will go on.' Distractedly, he raked a hand through his wind-ruffled hair. ‘God knows, six months is not a long time and yet it is time enough to reflect with calm and reason. I need to tell you something, Emily, and even if you choose not to believe it'—his eyes were bright, imploring—‘promise me that you will listen calmly, without flying into the boughs. That you will hear me out and not dismiss my words as an attempt to achieve my own ends at anyone's expense.'

His words struck terror to her core. She needed all her defences for this. Stepping out of his grip, she said, ‘You can tell me now.' She knew she sounded ungracious. ‘I am your wife. I will hear you out. You can tell me anything, have I not already told you? Jack trusted me enough to tell me his thoughts, his ideas and dreams … even his secrets.'

Was it the prickliness of her tone that made Angus appear to give up on their exchange?

He sighed, his shoulders sagging and his voice leaden as he stared back over the water. ‘I sail the day after tomorrow. You will have several weeks to enjoy your freedom. Though I would prefer – for your own good – that you did not know where I am going, I believe it only right to tell you that I shall be lodging, as I did on my last mission, at the home of Monsieur Delon and his daughter.'

She was silent for a heartbeat as she digested this, angling her body round to face him once more as she leant against the railing. ‘You are a replacement for Jack in all things, are you not?'

Her irony was not lost on him. ‘Not all things, Emily.' Gently he rested his hand on her shoulder. ‘There is something you must know about Madeleine—'

‘Madeleine?' She cut him off, her mind churning, still unsure what she felt to discover that Angus had taken up where Jack had left off, not just in the marital stakes. The men were so different yet Angus seemed to have stepped so easily into Jack's shoes.

She cut him off with a forced smile. ‘There is a Book of Children's Verse I had bought Madeleine and which Jack was going to take with him on his last visit.' She was determined to be placatory, as much to win Angus round as to learn more. ‘Now you can take it to her for me, and with my best love.'

He shook his head, his eyes bleak. ‘Save your gift, Emily. I will not take your Book of Children's Verse. Madeleine is not—'

‘You will not take my gift? Why? Because I should know nothing of what you do? Because I should be kept in ignorance of everything, just as Major Woodhouse implies? Am I considered
so
untrustworthy?'

He stared at her, as if weighing up something of great importance. Once more he slowly shook his head. ‘I would trust you with my life, but I will not entrust you with the truth if it endangers you.' He straightened. ‘Or if you are not ready for it.'

‘Come back!' she demanded, following him as he retraced his steps along the jetty.
Oh why was he leaving after saying so much and ultimately so little? Why did she have to respond with such defensiveness to anything Angus said that pertained to Jack?
She tried one final desperate gambit to draw him back to her. ‘What was it you were going to tell me? Jack told me everything and we were not yet married. I know
nothing
yet I am your wife. Why should it be considered a breach of security for you to convey a simple book to a little girl?'

His expression, which usually softened when he gazed upon her, was hard with anger. ‘When you are in this mood you are not inclined to accept the truth if it is not what you want to hear.'

Outraged, she stamped her foot. ‘How dare you?'

‘Save your gifts, Emily,' he muttered, stepping onto the gravel path that wound round the rose garden. ‘When I return from France I'll give you all the evidence you need to enable you to decide where your loyalties lie. To the
memory
of your dead,
false
fiancé who could not have loved you else he'd not have deceived you as he did, or to your husband who loves you with all his heart.'

She barely slept, she was so outraged by his allegations. Angus had thrown those last few words at her out of pure cruelty just to keep her in a foment of angry curiosity.

He'd tell her when he got back
.
What
was he going to tell her and who did he think she was? Some biddable little innocent who'd meekly accept everything?

So what if Jack had uttered a white lie here and there to protect her? It was in his nature to adopt a casual approach for the greater good, whereas brooding Angus was such a defender of the truth he'd consider the slightest whitewashing by Jack as evidence of poor character.