Valentine had ensured that he was the footman assigned to deliver the message to the marquess that his man had met with an accident. It was crucial to their timing that Granbury not receive the message too soon. But it had required skill and speed on Valentine's part for him to get past Soames's harried gaze, up the servant's stairs and into the maids' closet without Granbury catching sight of him. There would be no acceptable excuse for not delivering the note immediately if he met the marquess.
He drew a breath, afraid to let it out. There was the sound of a step on the landing. And now Granbury was there, at the top of the stairs. Valentine signaled to Nan that it was time for her to enter the room and slip the note into the pocket of the clothing already arranged in the dressing room. As Granbury approached the room, just as they had timed, Nan came out. Her start of guilt was superb, but Valentine suspected that it had less to do with her talent for acting and more to do with her terror for what they were about.
"What are you doing here, girl?" Granbury, at first, was not suspicious. He did, after all, assume his man was in the room to prevent the girl from doing mischief.
"N-n-nothing," Nan stammered, trying to veer around him and make for the stairs.
But Granbury glanced at his doorway and began to wonder what business a maid would have in his room at this hour. "I'll have a better answer than that from you, my girl, or we'll go down to see the countess right now."
Valentine used the distraction to move from the closet and walk swiftly down the hallway to interrupt. "My lord, I have urgent news." Granbury turned with a frown, and Nan, flashing Valentine a relieved smile, slipped past him before he could stop her.
"What is it?"
"Your man has been injured. I have been sent to serve for you." The thought of dressing Granbury was infuriating, but Valentine was not willing to risk exposing their plan, no matter how much he wished he could avoid this part of it. The marquess grated out questions. "Injured? How?"
Valentine plastered on a benignly serious expression, as befitted a footman delivering bad news. "A fall down the stairs."
"Clumsy oaf," Granbury swore. "How badly has he been hurt?"
"His knee is twisted and he has a cut upon his forehead that is not too serious. But he cannot walk and he has been taken to his room for the time being. I am to help you dress." Granbury studied him with such intensity that Valentine began to worry his nondescript disguise had finally been penetrated.
Then the marquess turned away impatiently. "I need no help with my clothing. I shall manage for myself."
"Very well, my lord," Valentine said deferentially. Inside, however, he was jubilant. Their plan had worked so perfectly that they had not even had to reveal that the duke, Miranda, and Emily lurked nearby. And he had not been required to help the marquess in and out of his clothes, thank goodness. The fates must be smiling upon their plan. He reflected soberly as he turned back down the stairs, that they needed every advantage they could find when dealing with the marquess.
Now that Granbury had seen Nan coming out of his room, all they needed to do was keep the maid surrounded by people. Unable to talk to her, he would be forced to keep the rendezvous by the pond with his blackmailer. The plan sounded much simpler than it would be, he knew. Still, he could not help but feel a surge of hope. Their first move in the game had gone as planned. Soon, they might have Granbury caught in the deceitful web he had been spinning for so many years.
Valentine found that the accident the marquess's valet had suffered had ended the extra alert observation he had been under by the butler and the housekeeper. That honor was now being enjoyed by a young kitchen maid who had been blamed for leaving soap on the stairs and causing the valet's accident. As a result, he was much earlier than he had been the previous evening when he came to Emily's room.
She smiled, a bit shyly — he saw she had decided to wear her nightgown. Good. It would give him great pleasure to remove it. Joining her in the bed felt natural. He looked forward, suddenly to a time when he would consider it as commonplace as his favorite slippers, or the chair in the study that he favored. So natural that he gave them no thought, just enjoyed them.
She smiled and teased, "No protests this time?"
"None," he answered, reaching for her. He enjoyed her look of anticipation as he moved slowly to kiss her. Her lips were warm and sweet, just as he had dreamed all day.
"You forgot to put out the lamp," she said nervously, pulling back.
He smiled and distracted her as she moved to turn out the lamp herself. "Where is Nan?"
Emily's answering expression was so full of guilt that for a moment he had a horrible notion that the maid was hiding under the bed to be safe from Granbury. But then she said, "Nan assured me she is safe enough in her room with the other maids. Do you think she is right?"
He began unfastened the little pearl nubbins at the neck of her nightgown. "I expect so. The servants' quarters are tightly packed and the walls thin enough to converse through."
Emily glanced at the lamp again. "I told her I shall not call her during the night. If she hears the bell, she is to ignore it. That way Granbury cannot trick her into coming abovestairs without my knowing."
"Wise plan." He smiled, bending over to kiss the soft skin he was slowly exposing. "I am quite sure we will not need her tonight."
When she looked over at the lamp one more time, he murmured against her skin, "I want to see you tonight, Emily. I want to see all of you."
Emily did not look at all abashed at his boldness. Instead, she blinked, and then a smile of anticipation lit her face. "My thoughts exactly, husband."
A touch of guilt made him sit up for a moment. Taking her face in his hands gently and looking into her eyes, he reminded her, "We shall still have to have a courtship, despite the fact that we are married. Despite the fact that we share this bed."
"Must we?"
He nodded. "When all this is over, you will go to live with the duke and Miranda and we will behave as if we were not married."
She ran her hand along his rib cage, to his hip. "Only in public. In my bed, we will always be married."
He sighed. "Emily, it is only so that tongues will not wag . . . more than they will once Granbury's secret is revealed."
Her reply was mischievous. "I don't like that plan at all, but I suppose it would do no good to argue with both you and the duke. I will not have a long courtship, I hope?"
"Two months, I think," he answered. It seemed a lifetime, but it would — "
And what if there is a child?" she teased, drawing her hand slowly from his hip down his belly.
He knew the proper answer would be to tell her that he would ensure there would not be a child until after they were publicly married. But her lips were working warm on his shoulder and he knew himself better than to make a promise he had no hopes of keeping.
"The dress is beautiful, Emily. I only wish your father could be here to see you. He would be proud."
"Yes, Mother." Emily scowled when her mother's back was turned. She longed to step down from the stool upon which she stood, tear the gown from her back and announce to her mother that she would never have the chance to be married in this dress.
Pragmatically, she knew that if she told her mother she was already married — and no longer a virgin at that — her mother would ruin all the plans they had made. But the temptation was great, especially after a day of being pinned and tugged and having her corset strings tightened until she could no longer breathe. "One week, my dear. One week and you shall be marchioness of Granbury."
"Why does that please you so, Mother?" she asked somewhat incautiously. She did not want to make her mother suspicious. She did, however, truly wish to understand what drove her mother to worry more about the title of the man her daughter married than the character of the man himself.
The countess stopped assessing the merits and drawbacks of her attire momentarily to train her gaze upon her daughter. The countess liked to emphasize important dictums. "Position is everything. Everything. And no one knows that better than I do." The bitterness in her mother's voice was plain.
"Surely a marchioness is no better than a countess, except perhaps in the order in which one enters a room in the most formal of occasions?"
"Silly child. You will learn." Her mother had a faraway look in her eye. "Did you know that I had a chance to be a duchess once, and I threw it away because of some foolish pride?"
"What?"
"The duke of Kerstone's father might have married me, instead of your cousin's mother."
Emily stared at this revelation as her mother continued. "But as he already had an heir of his first wife — Peter, who died before you were born — I turned him down. I did not like the thought that a son of mine would be no better than second, inheriting no title and no position." The countess laughed, with a sourness that came from a deep well Emily had not realized dwelled within her own mother.
"Of course, considering Peter's death and your cousin's inheritance of the title, I would now be the dowager duchess of Kerstone. And my son would — " She sighed. "If I had a son, that is. Perhaps I would have failed the duke just as I failed your father."
"I don't believe father ever considered that you had failed him by not giving him a son," Emily lied. She had heard the bitter arguments between her parents. Each blamed the other for their lack of a son and heir.
As their only child, a valueless daughter, she had served as a sign of failure for them both. She had learned to bear it, but it was not any easier to hear it even now, after her father was dead and buried and her cousin possessed the title of earl.
"You will not fail your husband, I hope." Her mother's eyes were small and shone bright with what Emily suddenly realized was hope. The ugly truth burst in on her: the countess held hungrily onto the hope that she would fail Granbury and produce no heir — or at the least, no male heir.
"My husband will not mind a houseful of daughters, I am sure," she replied tartly, to hide how shaken she was at this sign of her mother's true feelings for her. Would he? She thought of Valentine, and the way he cherished his sisters. No. He would not fault her if she did not give him a son.
The countess's mouth turned thin with scorn. "You are mad if you think Lord Granbury will forgive you for leaving him without an heir. Assuring the continuance of his marquesate is crucial to him, I assure you."
Her mother's spiteful words reminded Emily that she was still supposed to be marrying Granbury in a week's time. She was glad to know that the plan they had set in motion yesterday was at last ready to be finished tonight, by the pond. Her parents' bitterness had colored her life for as long as she could remember. It would be a blessed relief to be done with it at last.
Of course, that all depended on the success of their venture. She could only hope that they would all survive the night and she would be free of Granbury, of her mother, of everything but the need to be a good wife to Valentine and a worthy chatelaine of Anderlin.
Just as she was thinking how to divert her mother from her unpleasant conversational topic, she heard a light step and a rustle of skirts that came from neither herself nor the countess.
"You are a beautiful bride," Miranda said as she entered the room. Emily smiled at her, glad that now her mother would confine their conversation to matters of dress, flowers, guests, and food for the guests who were beginning to arrive and fill the house with voices and laughter.
Emily tried to pay attention to the conversation, but she was much too aware of Nancy and her misery. The maid watched from the corner, a nervous look in her eyes as she glanced at the door every few minutes. She was rightly worried that the marquess would find her and tell the countess about the blackmail attempt — or worse, attempt to quiet her with his previously successful method of murder. Although they wanted the marquess to do just that, they did not want him to do it before they had planned. Unfortunately, that meant that Nancy must suffer looking over her shoulder. She could not be left alone — and even when she was in company she was still nervous. Especially the countess's company. If Granbury told her that he had seen Nancy deliver — It did not bear thinking about.
Emily felt guilty that the maid must live with the fear that Granbury could accost her at any point before tonight's scheduled rendezvous. She doubted he would come into the fitting room, which was why she had insisted that Nancy accompany her; but the girl was miserable all the same.
Miranda apparently noticed the same thing, for she asked quietly "Emily, I have decided to drive into town for a few ribbons and things. Would you mind if I take your maid with me? Mine is feeling under the weather and I need someone to hold the goods and help me select what I need."
Although the last thing Emily wanted was to be left alone again with her mother, she valued Nancy's peace of mind over her own comfort. After all, she had been dealing with her mother all her life. She could handle one more day, "Please do." Emily nodded at Nancy, who smiled faintly at the reprieve. "You may accompany the duchess, Nancy. Do exactly for her what you would do for me, or I shall be very displeased."
The autocratic command was made more for her mother's sake than Nancy's. She was certain the girl would do as Miranda bade, in the time when the two of them were not plotting some new eventuality for tonight's plan.
At last, when the fitting was through, and Emily had heard the last of the plans her mother had made to create a memorable wedding for her daughter, and, more importantly, to create a favorable impression upon her guests‚ Emily was free to seek out the duke.
He was reading in the library when she came upon him and looked up when she entered the room. "Miranda tells me that you have completed the fittings for your gown. She says that you look well in it. It is a pity you will never have a chance to wear it."