"It is no pity, it is fitting that I not marry in such a gown," Emily said forcefully.
He put his book aside and raised one eyebrow. "Exactly why is it fitting?"
"Well, since no one in my family — including you, Cousin — see fit to respect the man I have chosen to give my love and fidelity I can't imagine that should marry in a beautiful gown. No, I more picture myself in sackcloth and ashes."
A smile quirked at his lips for a moment, but he answered her solemnly enough. "I do indeed respect Valentine, cousin. But he has allowed his feelings to overcome his sense in this matter."
"If you had not interfered three years ago — "
" — If I had not interfered in your elopement, I would never have married Miranda. Did she tell you that?"
"I don't believe it — the two of you are as well matched as Valentine and I. You would have realized it sooner or later when our families joined."
He shook his head and held up his hand to silence her protest. "I have heard enough recriminations from Miranda these last three years, my dear, I need no more from you. Do you have any idea of the gossip you would have had to live down?"
"Would it have been more gossip than I have had to endure because two men proposed to me and died before we could be married?"
He laughed softly. "I always thought you a meek and proper little thing, but I see Valentine knew you better."
"Indeed he does know me better. And I pray he only learns to love whatever he might not know about me in the lifetime we will spend together — with or without your blessing."
He looked surprised. "Oh, you have my blessing, Emily, do not doubt it." His expression became grave. "But I do not know what good it will do you if it becomes common knowledge that you eloped virtually on the eve of your wedding to another man. I can only hope that Granbury's crimes will overshadow your own behavior as a jilt."
"I love — "
"I do not doubt it. Nor do I doubt that he loves you. I knew that long ago."
That admission surprised the breath out of her.
He smiled. "Sometimes I wish I had not seen you, Emily, for your sake. But I did — and found Miranda in the bargain. Wishing it away will not change that."
"Still — "
"Still, we must try to keep the scandal to a minimum, don't you agree? For your children's sake." She nodded, hearing the sadness in his voice. Though they did not speak of it, she knew that they were unhappy over their failure to produce a child three years into their marriage.
"I can agree that a lack of scandal will certainly make my children's lives easier."
"Good. Then please do your best to keep your secret for a little longer — until we have Granbury securely caught, and until we can plan a proper courtship and wedding for you and your impetuous husband."
"And why would we need a courtship and wedding when we can simply say that we eloped without saying that we did so while I was still engaged?"
"Respectability, my dear. Respectability. What if some busybody chanced to find out the truth?"
"I do not care a fig for respectability."
"You will when you have children." He looked at her sternly. "Which may be sooner than can be politely explained, judging by the scene we found before dawn."
Emily blushed. She would have argued, but just then Granbury's voice echoed from down the hallway and within a moment he had entered the room.
"Here you are, my dear. I have been looking for you," the marquess said with a little chuckle. He nodded at the duke. "Kerstone."
While in another circumstance the duke might have left the two alone, in this case he merely picked up his book and began reading again. He did not deign to notice Granbury's unhappy glances, or his broad hints that the duke might be comfortable elsewhere. After the third of these hints, the duke placed his book back down.
Emily panicked, thinking that he intended to desert her. Instead, he did his best to entertain the marquess with stories of his trip abroad. The distraction was fortunate, because Emily was not in any mind to discuss travel or trivial matters with Granbury. Her head was churning with the thought of how any child of hers might be teased or shunned because of anything she herself had done to heap scandal and disgrace upon her own head.
For the first time, she understood why Valentine cared so very much that her reputation be spotless. It was one thing to consider withstanding the gossips for yourself. For another, especially an innocent child that one has brought into the world, it was a much less pleasant prospect.
Valentine didn't dare rub his neck, or stretch his shoulders, despite the tension that played along his muscles. He had been on alert all day waiting for Granbury to make a move. The marquess had not shown any signs of his intentions. But none of them doubted that he meant Nan no good. Between Emily's fitting and Miranda's outing, they had managed to keep the maid safely out of Granbury's path. Tonight, within hours, all should be finished.
All that was left, thankfully, was to wait for the marquess to appear at the pond. Not that crouching in the shrubbery was his favorite pastime, but if it meant ending this once and for all, he would crouch here motionless all night without complaint. The air was heavy with an impending storm, the breeze brisk enough to make it hard to hear the duke's voice. The duke had chosen to crouch in another clump of bushes to the left of the one in which Valentine hid.
Communication should not be necessary, though, he comforted himself. They had discussed the plan, and alternatives should the marquess not act as expected. There should be no further need to speak until events were in full motion. He surveyed the area around the pond, moving his head slowly and carefully from right to left and back again.
Nan sat upon a fallen log, dressed in white so that she would not get swallowed quite so easily by the falling darkness. Nothing else moved except the reeds and branches brushed by the wind.
Though he could not see Nan in detail from where he sat, he knew that she was still shaking in fear, just as she had been when he and the duke had walked her out to the pond and settled her on the log. Her bravery amazed him. Despite her trembling as they walked from the castle, her eyes were fierce and her jaw set.
He had offered to take her place — covering himself in a cloak to disguise that he was not a woman. She had refused without a second thought. Just now, though, he wished he were the one perched on the log. The branches which hid him also poked and scratched at his skin. And he wouldn't have to worry about the risk to Nan if he were the one out there.
They had convinced her — and themselves — that nothing could go wrong as long as she stayed in the open. There on the log they could see her, and would see Granbury approaching before he reached her. There they could hear the conversation between the maid and the marquess — if only the wind would die down just a bit.
Even as his mind worked the potential scenarios, he kept a close eye on the area. From nowhere, it seemed to him, Granbury walked into the open. The prickle of the bushes against his cheeks suddenly faded as he watched the marquess stride confidently toward the maid. She sat oblivious to his approach, watching the path that led directly from the castle, rather than the path leading from the stables. Granbury must have chosen a different path on purpose, hoping for the element of surprise. Well, he had gotten it — at least where the maid was concerned.
It was still light enough for the marquess's figure to be clearly seen. He had no weapon in his hand. There was not any menace in the set of his shoulders. Would he speak to her first, or go straight for murder? They had guessed, based on his history that he would want to torture Nan a little. Make her know her ultimate helplessness. Valentine felt a bit of that powerlessness himself as he watched Granbury approaching Nan from behind, while she had her gaze glued in another direction. Turn around girl, Valentine willed her silently. But she did not.
He tensed, prepared to rush the marquess should their hypothesis be proven wrong. It was all too possible that Granbury might confound them and simply attempt murder without first talking to the maid. The marquess stopped several feet away from Nan. His voice was calm and quiet, almost inaudible upon the breeze that carried it to Valentine's ears. "Does your mistress truly think I will allow her to blackmail me?"
Nan started and turned to face him, putting the fallen tree between them, as if it might offer her some protection. "Lady Emily has nothing to do with this. It was my idea." Good. She might be nervous and caught off guard, but she had remembered the story the five of them had cobbled together.
Granbury scoffed. "Those notes were not penned by an illiterate servant." Nan straightened her shoulders, shedding the deferent pose of servant. "I am not illiterate. I 'ave been well trained as a lady's maid and my penmanship is unexceptionable."
"You are still a servant, penmanship or not." Granbury's eyes flashed with ire. Apparently the maid's lack of servility irked him more than her attempt to blackmail him. "I do not doubt that you are doing the work of your mistress. She has made it plain enough that she would prefer to break the engagement."
"Lady Emily 'as her own reasons for wanting you gone." Nan's voice rose. "And I 'ave mine."
"And what could a maid care about enough to risk committing a serious crime to obtain?"
She taunted him, as they had asked her to do. "Maybe I just don't like that others like me can be taken advantage of by you. Maybe I want to see you pay for your crimes." The taunts might have been contrived to cause the marquess to lose control of his temper, but there was truth in them, too. Valentine could hear the maid's honest hatred.
Granbury seemed to hear the sincerity as well. "Are you so certain that I have committed any crimes, girl?" He shook his finger at her in admonishment. "I assure you my peers find me a most congenial companion." Frustratingly, he had gotten control of his initial irritation.
"I 'ave the letter . . ."
Valentine tensed as Nan broke off nervously.
After a stammered recovery, she continued, "And don't be thinking I 'ave it 'ere, on my person. I'm not so foolish as that! It's safe and sound where you'll never find it."
The marquess's laugh was quiet, but as the sound came to him, Valentine felt a shiver of evil pass through him. "You should have taken the letter more seriously, young woman. I am not afraid of a simple maid. I eat them for breakfast."
Nan's voice was steady when she answered. "I think I took it seriously enough. After all, you'll not be wanting anyone to 'ear about this — especially not your bride. She might just change 'er mind again and bolt."
Granbury remained unrattled, as far as his demeanor showed. "She's past any chance to change her mind, girl. Don't you remember? She and I have enjoyed the benefits of marriage a little in advance of our wedding date."
Nan scoffed at that, which made the marquess frown. "She didn't even know you were there."
He shrugged, and resumed his calm expression. "What is true matters less than what is believed."
Nan's voice was low and rich with venom. "Maybe not any longer. Once I tell — "
He laughed again. "Believe me, girl, I could let you spread your rumors without a worry. No one would believe such lies about me."
"I can prove what I say with the letter." Nan sounded a bit desperate, as if Granbury's very calmness was rattling her.
"Proof?" He shook his head, his voice sounding low and mournful. "Nonsense. I am an upstanding member of the House of Lords — I belong to all the right clubs." He chuckled. "And not one of my peers has ever seen me with blood on my hands."
Nan raised her hand and pointed to his face. Her arm trembled visibly, even from Valentine's distance and the shadow of the growing gloom. "It shows in your eyes. Every evil deed you've done is there in your eyes."
"Ah, but who wants to see something so unpleasant? No one that counts, I assure you."
Nan argued, "All I need to do is make people look. Then they'll see it for themselves."
"Haven't you learned yet that it is difficult to make people see the things they would rather not? And I assure you, accusing me, a peer — the marquess of Granbury — can't you see that no one will want to know?"
"That may be." There was a bleak sound to her voice. "But I 'ave to believe all your kind gets what's coming to 'em." Nan spoke softly, but her voice carried. "I'll see you 'ang for your crimes, my lord."
"That could never happen. Not even if you manage to return to the castle alive and well." The threat was so smoothly voiced it sounded like a commonplace remark. The maid's voice was shaking, but from anger not fear.
"I'll see you 'ang if it's from my grave."
The marquess shook his head sadly. "Too bad you won't have a chance to prove your theory to me. But I have no intention of allowing you to live to find out if I get what you think is coming to me." Slowly, he edged toward her, as if he thought she would turn and run if he moved too quickly.
Nan said doggedly, "I'll tell 'em. All of 'em — the countess, the duke, my lady."
"I'm afraid I have no intention of allowing you back into the castle." The marquess paused a moment, as if considering her fate. "No. The good people who served with you, your poor mistress, will all be distressed to discover that you have thrown yourself into the pond tonight."
Nan crossed her arms in front of herself and moved back a pace, at last noticing how close he had come. "I will not."
"No doubt you found yourself abandoned by a lover. Perhaps you thought you were carrying a child?" The marquess spoke in a voice that robbed Nan of the will to move. Soft. Soothing. Deadly. "Life can be hard for an unmarried woman who bears a child she never wanted. Yes. I like that rumor. That is the one I choose for you, my girl."
Nan shook her head and said faintly, "No one will believe it."
"Enough will. All those folks you thought were your friends. And your mistress. Innocent as she is, I will take great pleasure in describing the agony you must have found yourself in, poor girl, to think the only answer lay at the bottom of a pond." His voice vibrated through the night air and Valentine prepared to leave his cover. "Can't you see the tears that news will bring to her eyes? I will enjoy caressing them away, all in your memory ... what is your name, anyway?"