She closed her eyes, sadness seeping into the corners of her soul. If only he weren't married .... If only he were free . . . and her mother would walk in now, wouldn't she be thoroughly compromised?
The countess would have had to let her marry Valentine then. She'd have no choice in the matter. But his marriage made that an impossible dream.
"What can we do if the duke does not arrive in time?" She was much too nervous to bring up the first subject on her mind. She could not ask him about his marriage, not until she could bear hearing the answer without tears. After all, she had no idea if he loved the wife waiting patiently for him at Anderlin. Perhaps, she shivered, even a child. A year was long enough, and he was keeping great care to maintain a respectful distance from her.
Or was it a loss of affection and respect? A disdain for a young woman who had once, foolishly, agreed to elopement as a solution to their troubles? She searched his face, looking for a sign that he thought her a silly girl in need of rescue from herself. But his face was grave and still, his thoughts tucked deep inside, no matter how they might churn within him. At long last he left the solitude of his thoughts and looked toward the window. "We must get the sheets back in and tidied up. The servants should notice nothing amiss in the morning."
"Leave it. I can manage on my own."
She was surprised to see doubt cloud his eyes. "You cannot run away, Emily. You must trust to me to fix things for you."
She tried to mask her own nervousness in a strong and steady reply, "I do."
He caught her gaze with his own. "Promise me."
She made herself look back steadily. "I promise. I will wait for the duke to arrive — " At least, I will wait for a while, she added silently.
As if he had heard her amended promise, he leaned forward, his words slow and careful. "If necessary, I will think of something to delay matters until the duke can arrive, and send word to you, Lady Emily. But I cannot risk your reputation. I still shudder at the disgrace I nearly caused for you three years ago."
Torn by the fact that he would soon be gone, she did not keep the pain from her voice. "That was not our fault, it was the duke's. If he hadn't caught us, we'd have been safely wed long ago."
His eyes widened in surprise at her honesty, but he recovered well enough to say slowly, "We'd have regretted it. You'd not be wearing such fine silks now." He eyed her gown and she wanted to shred it in front of his eyes. As if he thought she cared for the quality of the silk she wore more than the quality of the man she married.
"That was not important then. It is not important now."
"I cannot argue with you — " He rose to leave, but stopped, staring at her in puzzlement, almost as if he didn't know who she was. His voice slurred as he said, "What have you done to me?" His movements were slow and his eyes confused as he sank back on the bed.
Emily looked on in horror for a moment, but then suddenly realized what she had unwittingly done to him. Laudanum. She glanced at the empty posset cup. "My mother had Letty dose the posset. I am so sorry."
But she wasn't really. He wouldn't be leaving yet, after all. She would have him to herself for a few hours longer . . . asleep, she realized, as she watched him fighting, and losing, the battle with Morpheus.
"Mother does not do anything half measure, I'm afraid," she whispered, drawing the covers around him and pressing a kiss to each eyelid.
He was suffocating. Worse still, his arms and legs would not obey his commands to move so that he could remedy the situation. Muffled voices made him fear his hearing was going as well, until he regained just enough of his wits to realize that he was underneath the covers of Emily's too soft feather bed. The weight of her porcelain dolls pressed down on him, threatening to spill to the floor if he dared to move.
He heard Emily's voice, and her mother's sharp reply. And then Emily's hip nudged his and he realized that she was in the bed next to him. He could feel the outline of her hip so warm and firm that he had no doubt she was clad only in her nightgown. Apparently her mother did not yet know that he was also in the bed, because, although her tone held irritation, there was little shock or anger. He fought his own personal dismay and shame for a moment. He had not intended to disgrace Emily yet again. He must do the honorable thing, he must marry her, there was really no question about it.
He wondered if she had drugged him on purpose for this very outcome? But the puzzlement and dawning horror in her eyes when he had begun to behave so bizarrely told him otherwise. Besides, she had had no idea he was even here in Scotland until she fell into his arms.
Her mother had meant to drug Emily, not him. The woman had no scruples at all. But she had locked Emily in securely. Why, then, had she also drugged her drink? He bit back a groan as understanding hit him. Of course. Because Emily was unstoppable when she had the bit between her teeth.
Hadn't she intended to run away when he caught her outside her window? Which was why he himself had wondered for a moment whether she had in tended to compromise herself with him. Emily's distress conveyed itself to him through the restlessness of her limbs beneath the covers, and he heard it in her voice as well. He stopped the whirl of his own thoughts and struggled to hear the low voiced conversation taking place next to him. "Mother, it is not even dawn. I will not see him here. It is not proper. Please, my lord, you must leave."
Valentine tensed at the sound of an unmistakably male voice. "Of course, my dear. Give me just one moment to explain myself, if you will." Granbury, Valentine thought. What was his business here? "Your mother sent a note telling me you are having doubts about our wedding. I came immediately, knowing that my presence would help to reassure you about the suitability of our match."
Emily's body had stilled its restless movements as she answered her fiance, but Valentine could feel the tension in her nevertheless. "You traveled from London? In the darkness? You must be mad."
Valentine grimaced. Ever the diplomat. He expected any moment that Emily would whip the covers down, revealing her indiscretion and putting an end to her engagement. He shifted a little, unwilling to be caught with an arm beneath his head when he knew the ugly reputation of the man, but her hand came to his shoulder and stilled him with urgent pressure. She did not want him exposed. At least not yet. What game was she playing?
"I was not in London, as it happened. I was nearby and the journey was nothing compared to easing the mind of my beloved."
Beloved? Valentine tensed. He had thought the match made for practical reasons, not ties of the heart. The man he had heard about in London would be dangerous to a wife he adored. Perhaps he should have taken Emily away when she asked? But how could he have known that Granbury considered her more than a mere blue-blooded vessel for his heir?
"You are too kind, my lord. And that is precisely why I am worried that I am not the right woman to be your wife. I am star-crossed, after all."
"You?" Granbury let out a harsh sound that might have been meant as a laugh. "You are talking nonsense, my dear."
Emily shifted restlessly in the bed, but kept her hand against his shoulder as a reminder not to reveal himself. "Nonsense? When I do not seem to be able to get to the altar with a live groom?"
Granbury laughed, apparently richly amused. "My dear, that is in the past. I will take you to the altar in health, I assure you."
"Star-crossed, indeed!" the countess put in indignantly. "What a notion, girl. It was not you. You come of good stock and could never be at fault." He heard a scuffling noise as she spoke. "So good of you to come and ease her mind, my lord. As my note said, it is just an attack of nerves. I know that your presence will ease her. I can see that she has already begun to regain her head. Please, retire now in comfort and we will talk more of this in the morning." The door snapped closed on Granbury's sound of protest.
Emily began to tremble next to him and Valentine wondered what was upsetting her, now that her mother was ridding the room of Granbury.
"You wicked, ungrateful child!" The countess's voice was not loud enough to carry into the hallway where the marquess might still lurk. But as she was standing directly over the half of the bed where Valentine huddled, he heard her clearly. "Why are your sheets hanging out the window?"
His heart began to thud. Would Emily reveal him now, now that Granbury was gone? But no, her hand was pressed hard against his shoulder.
"You were trying to escape. Do not deny it. Where did you think you would go, you foolish girl?" The countess practically snarled, her rage had grown to such a fevered pitch. "Never mind, I can guess who has encouraged your selfish inclinations to ruin your reputation. I will have the grounds scoured for that reprobate and have him whipped out of Scotland."
"No! I had no help, Mother." Emily's voice was sharp with fear, and her hand clenched tightly upon his shoulder. His muddled mind tried to make sense of her panic. How much worse could it be that Valentine might have helped her escape if he were found here now? Emily continued quickly, "It was my intention to escape, Mother, I do not deny it. I . . . I could not, however. It is too far to the ground. I was afraid of falling and so I remained here, as you can plainly see."
The countess was silent for a moment, but Valentine could imagine the searching gaze pinned upon Emily. "You had no help?"
"No, Mother. I swear it. Please do not think any of the servants would have." Emily's voice shook, as if she were close to tears. Her body trembled against his, as well, and he realized that she was terrified of her mother and had no intention of revealing his presence.
"Servants! They wouldn't dare help you. No, I thought . . ." The countess left her sentence unfinished, apparently unwilling to speak his name. At least, she seemed suddenly to believe her daughter. Valentine's arm was fast going numb, but he was not about to destroy the scenario that Emily had cleverly set up. She had her mother believing that she had tied her bed sheets together and then had not been daring enough to risk breaking her neck in a fall. As well, she had neatly disarmed her mother's suspicions that Valentine had encouraged her escape.
"Star-crossed." The countess had returned to Emily's earlier topic. Her anger was still explosive. "I tell you that you will not know the meaning of the term as intimately as if you go haring off with the scoundrel."
Valentine had no doubt in his mind that she meant him. He thanked whatever gods had prevented Emily from trying to compromise herself from one marriage into another. The countess would have never agreed, and Emily would have been locked away in Scotland for the rest of her life. Emily's body jerked away from his in shock as she leaned forward and gasped, "Mother I did not."
"Don't bother to deny it, Emily. I know you have not accepted that he is not suitable for you, despite all I have done to convince you." The countess's anger had cooled just enough that her words were sharp and carrying. "Let me be clear with you now, child. If you do not marry the marquess, your cousin will not supply the dowry your father has set aside for you. Your prospects will be much diminished and you will be fortunate to find a husband with a minor title and enough money to feed you properly. But it will not be Valentine Fenster. Not ever."
Emily's hand left his shoulder at last. "I know that, Mother."
The countess laughed unpleasantly. "You are a romantic, Emily. A fool. Even when hope should be gone, you hold it to your heart. But I tell you now, my fortune may have gone into your cousin's hands, but my reputation is still strong. If you ask anyone to intervene and break your engagement‚ including the duke, who has been deluded into marriage by Valentine's sister‚ I will ruin them all, from the cad who tried to elope with you to the youngest of the Fenster sisters.
"I — "
"No, Emily, do not protest. I should have said this long ago." Her voice faded and Valentine realized that she was near the door. But she did not leave without one parting shot. "Star-crossed. Only you could think that when you are two weeks away from marriage to a wealthy marquess. One day you will thank me for this."
She closed the door, and the key sounded in the lock. Emily's trembling grew, and he realized that she was crying. Cautiously he sat up, ignoring the burning of his bloodless arm, to embrace her and bring her against his chest. She curled into him as if she had done so a thousand times before and he held her tight as she sobbed. It wasn't sensible and he knew it even as he felt the warmth of her body burning against him, but he could imagine her hopelessness. The countess was not a woman to brook opposition. Emily was brave‚ if foolishly so, as she had proved more than once. But she was no match for the countess.
He allowed himself to brush his fingers through her hair, which fell in a loose braid down her back. He had imagined it so, but had never thought to see it. "We'll find a way out for you, I promise." She burrowed her face in his neck, and whispered, "Never mind me. I got myself into this pickle, I should get myself out. But what about you? She meant it. She will set the dogs to search for you. If she finds you, she will ruin you. We must get you away."
"Your mother can do no harm to me," he lied. He did not want Emily doing anything foolish to protect him.
"I could not bear it if she hurt you or one of your sisters." She turned her face up to his, and in moving, brought her body even more fully against his. He saw the awareness of their position dawn in her expressive face, and he fought the urge to kiss her. She was close enough. Too close for a woman he could not ever marry. "This is not wise, Emily." He pushed her away gently, the loss of her warmth more than just physical. He could give her nothing but scandal and shame, he reminded himself in order to drive away the disappointment that had slowly taken hold of him once he realized that Emily did not mean to reveal his presence and force the countess to consent to a marriage between them.
She would have protested, he could see it in her eyes, but he rolled to the side of the bed and stood. The blood raced painfully back into his cramped muscles. With a sigh, he shook off the last of the dizziness from the laudanum. "Never fear, I will escape with my hide intact." He smiled. "Although I doubted it when I first woke and found myself in your bed. I thought you were setting out to have yourself thoroughly compromised." He could not help a lingering glance upon her slightly clad form. "To be honest, I had adjusted myself to the notion, though it would have been a disaster."