Книга - Marrying Mischief

Marrying Mischief
Lyn Stone


Inheriting an earldom had obviously gone to Nicholas Hollander's head. After he'd left Emily's reputation in tatters years before, how could he expect that she would ever agree to marry him? Yet still he insisted that her rash efforts to find her missing brother had left them no choice but to wed, and straightaway.Nick's youthful defection had ruined Emily Lovenye's prospects. So it was no wonder that the vicar's daughter still wanted nothing to do with him. Unwittingly compromised into a hasty marriage, his courageous Emily was giving him the devil of a time as he struggled to win back her trust and turn their inconvenient union into wedded bliss.







“I shall keep to my own bed after the sham vows are recited, and you shall keep to yours!

“Or anyone else’s bed you fancy, for all I care!”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” Nicholas demanded, his eyes angry.

Emily propped her fists on her hips. “Well, if you didn’t understand what I said, my lord, perhaps it is you who needs a governess. Since we are to have a loveless union and it is all for outward show, there will be no consummation of it. Do you understand that, sir, or need I make it plainer still?”

For a long moment fraught with tension, Nicholas said absolutely nothing. “I did promise that you could have whatever you wanted,” he at last said softly. “Whether you believe it or not, I am a man of my word. Just be certain you really want what you demand…!”


Praise for Lyn Stone’s recent books

The Highland Wife

“…laced with lovable characters, witty dialogue, humor and poignancy, this is a tale to savor.”

—Romantic Times

Bride of Trouville

“I could not stop reading this one.…

Don’t miss this winner!”

—Affaire de Coeur

The Knight’s Bride

“Stone has done herself proud with this delightful story…a cast of endearing characters and a fresh, innovative plot.”

—Publishers Weekly

#599 THE LOVE MATCH

Deborah Simmons/Deborah Hale/Nicola Cornick

#600 A MARRIAGE BY CHANCE

Carolyn Davidson

#602 SHADES OF GRAY

Wendy Douglas


Marrying Mischief

Lyn Stone






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


Available from Harlequin Historicals and LYN STONE

The Wicked Truth #358

The Arrangement #389

The Wilder Wedding #413

The Knight’s Bride #445

Bride of Trouville #467

One Christmas Night #487

My Lady’s Choice #511

The Highland Wife #551

The Quest #588

Marrying Mischief #601

Other works include:

Silhouette Intimate Moments

Beauty and the Badge #952

Live-In Lover #1055


This book is dedicated to my good friends Julie and Mike Hammersley, and their incredible band, Auburn. You have England on the dance floor. Nashville’s next! Thank you so much for your friendship, encouragement and inspiration.




Contents


Chapter One (#u89a477fd-26a8-5056-8b1c-2e8a819f6f3a)

Chapter Two (#ue0c488e9-83f9-514a-a775-9786d84c8c5c)

Chapter Three (#u143a957a-eda2-59ed-ac21-ef0ff1a28b4d)

Chapter Four (#ue6bec3df-5199-584f-8ba0-2a9d3ed0b8d1)

Chapter Five (#u64d959c2-7b43-56d4-860e-6461a5cdf216)

Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fourteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Fifteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Sixteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Seventeen (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter Eighteen (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)




Chapter One


Southern Coast of England—1856

She had only meant to tug the gate open. Yet here she stood with the old broken latch in her hand and the rotten boards of the neglected little portal collapsed at her feet. She peeked inside. Emily Loveyne could scarcely believe that she, the vicar’s own daughter, was breaking into the Bournesea Estate.

With a disgusted sigh, she raked away enough of the overgrown ivy and morning glory vines to squeeze through. Obviously no one had used this as an entrance or exit for years. She had when she was a child accompanying her father on his Sunday afternoon visits when her ladyship still lived.

The small gardener’s gate had been the nearest way in on their approach from their cottage, and had led them directly past the roses, once inside. Her father did love roses. They still enjoyed the beauties grown from cuttings Lady Elizabeth had given them for their own garden. Good thing, too, she noticed. No one had tended the parent bushes for quite some time. What a weedy, overgrown tangle!

These days she supposed everyone went in and out the front or side entrances. Unfortunately, both of those were closed, their decorative wrought-iron gates locked tight as a sailor’s hitch. Staunchly guarded, too, by burly, bearded ogres she did not know. Judging from their attire, they were clearly seamen.

She shook her head in consternation as she rounded the tall hedges flanking the walls and made for the servants’ quarters. That’s surely where her brother would be, not in the manor house itself. She was infinitely glad she wouldn’t have to approach that place. As familiar as she was with it, she had no wish at all to enter there and risk an encounter with the new earl.

How dare he keep Josh on duty here now that the ship had laid anchor. The double-masted brig had been there, well off the coast, for at least two days before she heard of it or she would have come sooner. Why, she wondered, was it not in the harbor?

Her brother was only thirteen and must be homesick after more than six months away. Their father needed to see his only son, and Emily had missed Josh terribly.

No matter how much she had objected at the time, Father had allowed Josh to sign on as cabin boy with Captain Roland for the unhappy voyage all the way to India. They had gone to inform Lord Nicholas of his father’s death and to bring him home to assume his duties.

Lord Nicholas. He had always possessed the honorary title, of course, since he was the earl’s son. Now he had inherited the earldom and, things being as they were, she must remember to call him lord if she ever saw him again.

But, earl or not, the man had no business keeping her little brother under lock and key in this place, and would do that no longer if she had to bring it down around his noble ears. Why the devil were there guards on the gates? They had told her nothing. They had just stood at a goodly distance behind the lacy ironwork and ordered her away.

She lifted her skirts a bit higher, stepped around the puddles standing in the gardens and made for the door to the outer building adjacent to the carriage house.

Other than the guards she had seen, no one was around, she noticed. Today’s village gossip held that the skeleton staff remaining after the old earl died had been ordered away when Nicholas arrived.

No one in the village had seen him yet. Isolating himself this way seemed to be taking his grief a bit too far, considering the animosity between father and son. Must be Nicholas’s guilt working, she reckoned, and was glad of it. He ought to feel guilty, leaving as he had.

She pushed open the door to the half-timbered, two-story building that she knew was home to the male servants in the earl’s employ.

“Anyone here?” she called hesitantly, ducking her head in all the rooms that stood open. Nothing but dusty furnishings. Then she heard voices down the hallway.

Never a shy mouse, Emily quickly headed in that direction. As she did, she passed a chamber with the door ajar and stopped to peek inside. There on the bed lay her brother, sound asleep. Imagine that, in the middle of the day!

He was not even dressed. His sleeveless undershirt revealed his skinny arms and shoulders. So pale, she noted.

“Josh?” she said softly, so as not to startle him awake. When he didn’t answer, she went straight to the bedside and put her hand on his arm, shaking gently. “Darling? Are you ill?”

His eyes flew open. First he appeared overjoyed, but then his expression turned to one of stark horror. “Em, get out of here!”

“Nonsense, I’ve seen you in your smallclothes before and—”

Two men suddenly rushed in and grasped her by the arms. Without a single word of explanation, they hurriedly dragged her out of the building and across to the manor house.

Terrified that the entire place had been invaded by a horde of pirates and thieves, Emily fought them all the way to the door to the kitchens and across the hall inside the main house. “Let me go!” she screamed, struggling and kicking to no avail.

One let go of her arm long enough to open a door and the other thrust her unceremoniously into the earl’s library.

She grew still when the men no longer held her and looked around.

The man behind the huge cherrywood desk rose. She almost did not recognize him. He looked so much older, so much larger, so absolutely furious that she was here. Blue eyes that had held such warmth seven years ago now rivaled arctic ice its chill. Dark brows lowered, giving him an almost menacing appearance. The beautifully shaped mouth that had once pressed so fondly against her own drew into a firm and disapproving frown. His nostrils flared.

“Nicholas?” she gasped, unable to credit how much he had changed.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, his expression promising retribution for her trespass. “Who allowed her in?”

One of the wretches who had dragged her here cleared his throat. “No one admitted her. She sneaked in somehow, milord. We caught her in young Josh’s room out back.”

Nicholas grimaced as if in pain and pressed his temples with a thumb and forefinger. “Damn!” His deep voice grated on the vehement, solitary word.

“Well, damn you, too!” she exclaimed, her own ire rising to meet his. “I had not expected to trouble you with my presence, my lord. I merely came to fetch my brother home. If you will kindly excuse me, I shall do just that.”

“You cannot,” he said, his voice gruff.

“Watch me,” she replied, whirling around to leave. The men blocked the door. “Move aside,” she ordered in her best schoolmistress voice. She had been practicing it for her new position and thought it quite effective. It obviously did not work on adults. They stood firm.

Nicholas had come around the monstrosity of a desk. Emily heard him move and could now feel his presence there, invading the space just behind her. She jerked around to face him.

“Emily, we must talk. Would you please have a seat? Wrecker, pour us a brandy,” he said in an aside to one of the men.

She propped one hand on her hip. The other rested at her throat, hopefully hiding the rapid pulse in her neck. “You know very well I do not take spirits, my lord. Say what you have to say, then permit me to leave and bring Josh home with me. He looked ill when I saw him.”

He reached for her hand. She ignored the gesture. His frown grew darker. “Leave us,” he said to the two men, “and find out how she got past the guards. See that no one else does, or you will answer for it.”

She heard the door close. “Now what will you do?” she demanded, determined to show no fear even though she felt very nearly petrified. This was not the Nick she knew. That smiling, witty suitor had disappeared. In his place stood this disheveled, intimidating stranger who frightened her silly.

“Please sit down, Emily,” he said.

She did not. Instead, she swiftly stepped around him, afraid of his nearness.

He must not have shaved his beard for several days and was in his shirtsleeves. Those sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, exposing strong, sun-browned forearms. His rich dark hair fell tousled across his brow and curled over the back of his collar. That same collar stood open at his neck, revealing a glimpse of chest covered with a mat of even darker hair.

The forbidden sight perturbed Emily. Never before, even in their youth, had she seen him look so rumpled. Like an unmade bed. Thinking of Nicholas in conjunction with a bed of any kind upset her even more. For someone she disliked so wholeheartedly, he certainly could provoke some highly dangerous thoughts.

She backed against the desk, putting as much space between them as possible. Her heart galloped like a runaway horse.

His expression changed from anger to what appeared to be regret. “You should not have come here,” he told her.

Emily expelled the breath she’d been holding and rolled her eyes. “You need not worry, my lord. It is not as if I came to confront you. Even I have more sense than to hound a peer of the realm for an explanation of his actions, past or present. Get out of my way and I will trouble you no longer,” she snapped.

“Would that I could believe that. Does your husband know you’re wandering about the county, breaking into private property where you have no business?”

“My husband?” She laughed bitterly. “No, I’d reckon not, since I do not have one! Thank God for small favors,” she added.

“You…have no husband,” he demanded, as if confirming her words so there would be no mistake.

“Certainly not, and we both know the reason. But I do have a brother, and Josh will accompany me home or I shall know the reason why.”

“Because he is ill,” Nicholas told her, his voice gentler than before. “Joshua cannot leave the grounds of Bournesea, and—now that you have entered—neither can you.”

“What? You would hold us here against our will?”

“If I must, that is precisely what I will do,” he said firmly, yet not unkindly. “We fear it is blue cholera.”

The breath left her in a choked cry of alarm. Her vision wavered, her knees buckled and she grasped the desk behind her to keep from falling. Oh, God. Blue cholera? The Asian sort. Before she could right herself, he was there, his arms around her, lifting. Resisting did not even occur to her.

When he had placed her on the brocade settee, he knelt before her, his hands still on her arms. “Emily, believe me, I am so dreadfully sorry this has happened. Please forgive my bluntness in the telling. I knew no easy way to say it.”

She brushed a shaking hand over her eyes, then clamped her palm against her mouth and swallowed hard when sickness threatened.

“Breathe deeply,” he suggested. “Lie back.” Not waiting for her to comply, he pushed her into a reclining position, her head resting uncomfortably against the high, padded curve of the couch arm.

She watched as he rose and hurried to the sideboard. A moment later he returned with a snifter and put it to her lips. “Sip this. It will help,” he promised.

Consuming spirits suddenly dropped far down on her list of things to avoid. She grasped the glass and swallowed deeply. The coughing fit almost undid her. Tears rolled down her face unchecked. “Will…will Josh die?” she rasped when she was able to speak.

“No, no, of course he won’t die,” Nicholas assured her, all sympathy now. “I promise you, he won’t. He has been improving every day since we came ashore. In fact, he is keeping his liquids down and the fever is almost gone.”

She grabbed his arm with both hands. “Nick, he must have a doctor. Please—”

He smoothed the hair back from her forehead. “He has the best. Dr. Evans is quite accomplished.”

Emily sniffed, trying to think properly. “I have never heard of him.”

“He is the ship’s doctor, who has sailed with Captain Roland for years. I trust him implicitly.”

“But cholera, Nicholas?” Emily whispered. “I can scarcely believe it.”

“It has been epidemic here before,” he reminded her. “No one is safe from it.”

“Mostly in London and the crowded cities. Not anywhere near Bournesea.”

“No, but it does exist now in Lisbon, where we docked on the way home. Apparently, that’s where they contracted it.”

“In a faraway port?” she asked, her voice breaking.

“Yes, Portugal. There has been no rampant outbreak here in England recently, and this is what I am trying to avoid. Firsthand, I witnessed the devastation it caused in India. So, you see why I cannot allow you and Josh to leave. By coming here, being with your brother, you have exposed yourself to it,” he said gently. “Also, I am allowing no possibility that rumors of it will spread and cause panic.”

“But Father—”

“Shall be told, of course, when he comes looking for you. Unfortunately, I dare not send anyone out to inform him. When he comes to the gates, I shall speak with him myself from a safe distance. I know I can trust him not to reveal anything.”

“He is not well himself,” Emily said, “I can only imagine how upset he will be when I do not return home in time for supper. I neglected to tell him where I was going.”

Nicholas sighed and sat back on his heels, holding one of her hands. When had he taken it up and why had she not noticed when he did? She should pull away, but she needed comfort from any source available. Even he would do at the moment.

“Does the vicar have someone to do for him in your absence?” he asked.

Emily nodded, still so shocked by what he had told her, she could not gather her wits. Concentrating on something as mundane as the vicar’s supper seemed somehow inconsequential. Wrong.

Nick patted her hand. “I shall have my mother’s room prepared. She would approve your presence there, I think,” he said with a comforting smile.

Here was the Nick she remembered, Emily thought with relief. At least she knew he still existed inside this sun-kissed, muscled, unkempt rogue who scared her. She tightened her fingers and clasped his hand, holding fast to the only solace she could find.

Josh would be well soon. He had to recover. “What if I sicken from this, Nick? There will be no one to care for my father and Josh. I cannot afford to die!”

He tried to soothe her. “Isn’t there someone who cooks for you at home? What of Mrs. Pease who used to do that?”

“She is still with us. I only meant that there must be someone to pay for her services once Father retires, which must be soon. And Josh will have to be schooled somehow.”

“Ah,” he said, taking her meaning. “You need not worry about that. Even if the worst happens and both of us succumb to the sickness, you may rest assured that your family will lack for nothing in the future.”

“What do you mean?”

He smiled, the old sweet smile that had convinced her that he loved her all those years ago. But his smile had not signified it then, and she must not mistake the meaning of it now.

“The instant I made a profit in trade that did not apply to my father’s business, I placed you in my will, Emily. So, as your next of kin, your family would inherit what I would leave to you.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Why on earth would you do such a thing? Guilt?”

Certainly, it was guilt, she reminded herself. Only guilt. He had all but seduced a young girl with pretty words, gifts and kisses, then left her the very next day without any explanation, and had stayed away. He had never had any intention of returning to her. A pity it had taken her years to realize that fact. He was no man at all if he felt no remorse for the pain he had caused her.

“Guilt, of course,” he admitted curtly. He released her hand and got to his feet. The stranger who called himself Nicholas was back. “If you are recovered enough that I may leave you alone, I will go and see to your accommodations. Please remain in this room. We are keeping everyone as isolated as is humanly possible.” He snapped a perfunctory bow, turned on his heel and left the room.

Emily sat up, leaned forward and hugged herself, trying to dispel some of the horror she was feeling. A thousand questions occurred to her the instant he was gone. What were the symptoms? How long did it last? How many recovered? She looked around her. Books. There would be answers here somewhere.

Quickly she scrambled off the settee and began examining the titles. She picked a Materia Medica off a shelf at eye level. There was a paper inserted, already marking the section referring to the cholera. Nicholas’s doing, she knew. He would have had the same thought as she.

Emily carried the tome back to where she had been sitting, opened it and began to read. There was precious little to learn there, however. Speculation, mostly. Remedies that worked for one, killed another. The cause of the disease’s spontaneous occurrence, or how it traveled one to another remained mysteries only guessed at by the learned minds who should have the answers and cures.

Moments later, Nicholas returned. “I see you are using the time productively. Ever resourceful, aren’t you?”

She turned a page as she looked up at him. “How long has Josh been affected?”

“Two days out of port after we left Portugal, he came down with fever and began to behave strangely. Two others were similarly affected, all of their complaints consistent with the cholera. Josh and the two men did go ashore together and must have contracted it somewhere there in the city.”

Emily felt the need to strike. “You allowed a young boy to carouse in a foreign port with two sailors? What sort of shipping enterprise do you conduct, sir?”

He raised a brow and glared at her. “One of those sailors is the captain, Emily. A man whom you know and respect. I was not aboard at the time. Captain Roland had business in the city and did not think it wise to leave a young boy alone on the ship without proper supervision, so he kindly took him along.”

“Oh,” Emily said, biting her bottom lip. “The captain has it, too?”

“Unfortunately, but I had sailed enough to chart the course for home, so we headed here. I felt they could not be treated properly at sea.” He went on, dismissing her contrition. “I had the three, including Joshua, confined to the largest cabin. Our doctor volunteered to tend them and remain apart from the rest of the crew. We came ashore and directly here after dark three nights ago. There have been no further cases among us, so we are hopeful it has been contained.”

“What of your staff here?” she asked, wondering why no word of this had circulated within the village.

“I arrived alone and spoke from a distance with the gatekeeper. I simply told him that he and the others were to vacate Bournesea within the hour and hasten to the London house and remain there.”

“And they left? Just like that?”

“They went directly as I commanded. They might be curious, but they would never question my order or disobey me. Father trained them well in that respect.”

Emily nodded, too disturbed over the issue of the sickness to comment upon the old earl’s iron hand with servants. “The doctor has not sickened from his contact with the men and Joshua?”

“No, and he assures me all three are in various stages of recovery. They are incredibly lucky. Few survive it and many die within hours.”

She heaved a sigh of relief. “I know. I’ve heard.”

“No one understands how it is carried from person to person,” Nicholas replied in a guarded tone, “but none of us have had close contact with anyone outside the crew since they sickened. I figure another fortnight should tell the tale. If by that time, everyone remains well, we may go about our business and count ourselves extremely fortunate to have been spared.”

“Fortunate indeed,” Emily replied thoughtfully. She laid the book aside and stood. “I will see to Josh myself.”

“No!” he exclaimed, blocking the door as if she were planning a sudden escape. Which she supposed she was, if the truth be known. He visibly forced himself to relax and held out his hands in entreaty. “Emily, you must give it two days. I beg you. I promise if Josh continues to improve as he has thus far, you may see him then. Your contact with him was brief today. Let’s not tempt fate with another visit.”

She understood that Nicholas had her best interest at heart. At least in this matter. “I suppose you are leaving me no choice.”

“None, I regret to say. And I am also sorry to refuse your request to leave. But a mere two weeks of idleness should do you no harm.”

“Little do you know,” she muttered.

“What? What am I asking you to abandon that is so crucial? Tea with the local ladies? Walking out with some local dandy?”

Anger suffused her. She absolutely shook with it. “How dare you judge my days of no account, you stupid man! This enforced confinement will cost me my employment so that my father must work on in your employ for who knows how much longer!” She flung herself down upon the settee and dashed the heavy book to the floor. “And there is no suitor, thanks to you!”

He smiled, damn his eyes. “No suitor? I’m glad of it, but how did that come to be my fault? I heard that you had one and were about to wed.”

“Well, you were sadly misinformed.” She stuck out her chin and pinned him with a glare. “After you, sir, I was put off men altogether.” Let him find humor in that, she thought with an angry huff.

Her words effectively killed his smile. “This employment you mentioned,” he said, deliberately switching topics. “Is it something in the village? Dressmaking or the like? You plied a magic needle, as I recall.”

She ducked her head, wishing she had not brought up the matter at all. “Governess,” she muttered, then chastised herself for her hesitation. Why should she have any qualms about making him uncomfortable? He certainly hadn’t minded her discomfort in times past.

His expression grew sad. “Oh, Emily…”

Disappointed, was he? Because she would be trapped in that strata between well-born and servant and accepted by neither? She knew well what she could look forward to, and thought it small price to pay for what she would gain.

Her only goal in life at this point was to secure an income so that she could support her family. Father would not last much longer if he continued working so hard. And Josh should be at school instead of racketing around the world on a boat. Now her plans were dashed.

Emily raised her chin and elaborated. “I was to travel to London the day after tomorrow and assume my duties immediately. That was the condition of my employment. Now Lord Vintley will accept someone in my stead.”

“Vintley?” he asked with a dreadful frown. “That’s just as well, then. He used to visit the Worthings, where I met him and was not favorably impressed.”

Emily pinched her lips together. But they would not hold back the words. “Lord Worthing’s daughter recommended me. I am certain she will be greatly disappointed to hear I have lost the opportunity she afforded.”

“Dierdre,” he said with deadly calm.

“Just so. Your intended.”

“She is not my intended.”

“Your father thought differently. He told me that you had been betrothed to her for two years before you went away.”

“That is not true. A marriage with Dierdre was his wish for me, never my own.”

“So you say.” Emily regarded him closely to see whether she could detect a lie. Either his father had been lying through his teeth, or Nick was now. She was disposed to believe Nick, of course, but the knowledge of how he had dashed her trust once before made her cautious.

He propped his hips against the edge of the desk and crossed his arms over his chest. “Since you never liked Dierdre, why, may I ask, would you even consider such employment if you thought it would please her?”

“Remuneration, my lord,” Emily answered readily. “And I did write and thank her for mentioning me. The salary is twice what I could expect anywhere else.” For two hundred pounds per year, Emily felt she could endure almost anything. Even Dierdre Worthing’s satisfaction.

It was an offer Emily could not afford to lose. The income from it would probably save her father’s life if he could retire before his heart gave out completely. And would definitely ensure that Josh received a proper education.

“Even if your father must give up the living here at Bournesea, Emily, you need not work,” Nicholas said kindly. Condescendingly, if she were honest in her appraisal. He might as well pat her on the head while he said it. “You have but to tell me what you need and I will gladly supply it. Surely you have always known you could come to me for anything.”

Emily pursed her lips and nodded, holding his gaze with her own. “Ah, I see. Add your monthly stipend to the rumors that circulated about our affair and we would have a full-blown public arrangement, is that what you wish? Well, I have worked hard to dispel those rumors, Lord Kendale, and I do not intend to resurrect or augment them in any way whatsoever. Do I make myself clear?”

“We had no affair!” he exclaimed, disturbed that she would even call it that. “This is preposterous. I am merely offering aid to a cherished friend and you know it!”

“A cherished friend you embraced and kissed upon the lips whilst standing in the midst of the village commons for all the world to see. I was very nearly ruined by that, I’ll have you know.”

Instantly, he seemed ill-at-ease. Emily wanted him to be. She wanted him on his knees begging her forgiveness. She wanted his arms around her, pleading for a chance to make things right. She wanted to scratch his eyes out.

“Emily, listen—”

Instead of affording him any chance to explain the inexplicable, she interrupted. “Is the chamber ready where you would have me stay?”

He sighed and shook his head. But the gesture obviously did not agree with his answer. “Yes, the room should be aired by now,” he admitted.

“Then, under the circumstances, I suppose manners force me to thank you for your hospitality,” Emily said.

“I am compelled by the same to assure you that you are quite welcome. Use the bellpull if you need anything. There are no maids about to dance attendance, but someone eventually will come to bring whatever is lacking.”

She swept past him as regally as she could manage and left the library. Whatever was lacking, he had said. That was just about everything she could think of, but certainly nothing a tug on a bellpull would provide.




Chapter Two


Nick had known she was not married, of course. His subtle questioning of her brother Joshua aboard ship had relieved that worry before they had begun the voyage home.

The earl had written six years ago that Emily and the pockmarked postmaster were about to be wed. Nick had stayed drunk for an entire week, then vowed with all sincerity to forget the vicar’s daughter and her faithless ways.

His father had lied, of course. But Emily had not answered Nick’s subsequent letter wishing her well. Obviously she had wanted him to believe that she was settling into a marriage with Jeremy Oldfield.

Nick knew nothing good about the postmaster, who had been a self-righteous bore and a bully in their younger days. Those traits frequently grew worse with age and Nick had worried about Emily because of that. However, his relief in discovering she was unattached was now marred by what she had just declared about his ruining her chances for a happy life. He had never once considered that.

Perhaps she had overdramatized the case because his leaving had made her angry. Emily always had possessed a talent for exaggeration. That quality, too, might have increased with age.

As for aging, either Emily had changed or his memory was faulty and his dreams had ceased to do her justice. The years had enhanced rather than dimmed her beauty. Blond flyaway curls framed a lovely heart-shaped face that had grown even more exquisite without its girlish roundness.

Her figure looked fuller, more womanly. To be expected, of course, that she would mature and surpass the prettiness he remembered.

And her mouth, so expressive in both joy and anger, stirred him still. He had almost given in to the urge to plunder it as he had done so eagerly that one time. But at the last moment he had refrained from doing so. She obviously wouldn’t thank him for it now.

Her eyes were the same clear and guileless blue, framed by softly curling lashes. However, the absolute trust and adoration he had seen in them once had vanished completely over the years. The absence of that hurt more than he would have believed.

In truth, it made him soul sick. If what she said was true, his attraction to her might have ruined her life. If only he had been more circumspect, less thoughtless, but at twenty-two he had not fully realized the impact his interest in her would have on her future.

Now, taking what she had said into consideration, he could see how none of the men in the county would dare trespass on property the earl’s son had publicly claimed and therefore declared off-limits. And that is exactly what he had done with that kiss.

The very next day, on the earl’s orders and under determined escort, a furiously struggling Nicholas had been set aboard a packet for India to commence learning the vagaries of trade as his father’s representative.

Apparently his son engaging in business seemed far less demeaning to Earl Kendale than having him inappropriately engaged with a village girl.

The old man’s warning, issued not an hour before the ship sailed, still rang in his ears. “If you return and insist upon continuing your suit of this little adventuress, I shall ruin her entire family. Loveyne will find himself and his two brats upon the road without a quid among them and with nowhere to go.”

A horrifying prospect for anyone.

His father had continued. “She’s a fair-looking bit of fluff, Nicholas, but not for you. Not even as a playfellow. As long as you stay away, she will be safe.”

Nick had objected vehemently even as he realized he had no choice but to do as instructed. The earl’s threat had been clear and concise.

His father had laughed. “You’ll be set free as soon as the ship’s well under way. When you are, you keep my bargain in mind, my boy. Picture our eccentric, good-hearted Vicar Loveyne destroyed by the dismissal. He knows nothing else but tending his little flock, now does he? Even if he does, I’ll see him turned off by anyone who hires him. And the girl, Emily? That little baggage can take to the streets.”

The earl leaned nearer as if to impart a secret. “Trust me, I’ll see to it that she does. And that skinny brother of hers looks just the right size for sweeping chimneys. How old is he now, five or six?”

Nick had known from experience that his father never bluffed nor made idle threats. The Earl of Kendale had possessed the power, the means and the motive to destroy the entire Loveyne family and he would have done so without a qualm.

Though his father had never applied cruelty just for the enjoyment of it, he certainly never blinked at crushing anyone or anything that did not suit him.

Nicholas had his orders. He was to learn shipping from his father’s factors in India, see a bit of the world, then come home and wed appropriately. Wed Lady Dierdre Worthing. His father had left him no choice about the first commands, but against that last, Nick had rebelled. He had stayed away from Bournesea and had never seen the earl, nor replied to his correspondence since that day.

Apparently his father had solidified plans for the marriage during his absence, Nicholas recalled with a frown. On arriving home three days ago he had found the contract stating the terms of Nick’s betrothal to Dierdre Worthing.

His own name had been forged below Dierdre’s. Nicholas was assuming her signature was genuine. For all he knew, she could be as oblivious to the entire matter as he had been. He had not heard a word from her in all this time.

Maybe she was already wed. Heartening thought, but unlikely. Unless she’d become betrothed and married within the past few months, he would have read of it in the newspapers shipped regularly from London.

His father had risked a scandal with the forgery, obviously counting heavily on Nick’s unwillingness to reveal the deception once he discovered it.

He wished he could attribute his father’s dishonest meddling to love and concern for an only son, but Nick knew it was borne of a need to master everyone and everything.

If Emily had shown any interest at all today in resuming what had been begun between them with that kiss seven years ago, Nicholas would have been perfectly willing to pursue it. But she had not. Quite the contrary.

For Emily, their former attachment, innocent as it had been, had proved disastrous. She must hate him. Because of his interest in her, she was not married and probably never would be. She had declared quite fixedly she was through with men altogether because of him. He knew Emily’s determination once she made up her mind.

But Emily, a governess? He shook his head. Vintley was no saint. Nicholas remembered him well, and doubted the lecher would treat her with the respect she deserved. The very thought of her assuming such an unguarded position was unacceptable and that was all there was to it.

Emily had made her decision, however, and Nicholas knew he would never be able to sway her on the matter of taking any financial assistance from him to prevent her working. He had to admire her for refusing his offer of support, even while it angered him that she did so.

Even an offer to renew the close friendship they once enjoyed, she would view as suspect. And probably would fling something at his head for good measure if he persisted. He would, anyway, of course. How could he do less? He’d missed her terribly.

He smiled wryly at the thought of her temper. For a girl reared as a vicar’s daughter, Emily did possess a fiery spirit plus impulsive and headstrong ways. That had drawn him to her like a lodestone. He had always admired her fiercely independent nature, her zeal, her ready laughter and lack of artifice. She never did a thing by half measure, his Emily.

Not his Emily, he reminded himself with a heartfelt sigh. And she never would be. That chance was gone, destroyed by old Kendale’s malice and Nicholas’s fear for her future. Perhaps it was just as well, for Emily’s sake, since he had fully intended to marry her at the time. Ah, the vagaries of that youthful passion.

Now, however, he could not envision her in the company of those he would find it necessary to socialize with in London when he took his father’s place in the House of Lords. No, such a structured and demanding life would have made her miserable.

He considered Dierdre Worthing. She had often indicated that she felt some attraction to him, Nicholas reflected. As he recalled, she had been an accomplished flirt. Of course, she’d been quite young at the time and he had never taken her seriously.

Emily was younger. Nick shook off the thought.

As the daughter of a baron who was very wealthy and influential, Dierdre would have the training required to fulfill the role of a countess.

All he need do was accept the betrothal and refrain from exposing his father’s forging of the document. If he did not, then explaining everything to Worthing would be awkward, to say the least. And Dierdre, if she knew about it, would be hurt to think he did not want her and never had. She might have been waiting these seven long years for him to return and marry her, with her father and his assuring her that she and Nicholas truly were betrothed.

Maybe he should go through with the marriage. There really was no point in thwarting the old man’s wishes and causing a scandal just for the sake of revenge. That would be childish and unproductive.

Nick was fast approaching thirty and must begin to think of marrying and producing an heir. What difference did it make whom he married as long as she liked him reasonably well, was of suitable birth and could bear him the requisite son?

His only goal in life now was to undo the wrongs his father had wreaked on others. Nick wanted to gain the respect of his peers for himself and the title. As earl, he meant to do his duty as he understood it, not to follow his father’s self-serving example. He would live with honor.

But would it be honorable to marry Dierdre when he felt absolutely nothing for her? Not even a special liking? He had outgrown his belief in love, of course, but lust was a fact. So was admiration and the need to protect. Unfortunately, he did not feel any of those things for Dierdre Worthing.

He could scarcely recall what she looked like. Yet he had never forgotten Emily’s face. Her sweet, trusting face turned up to his for that kiss that had changed both their lives for the worse when his father had heard of it. Nick knew very well that he still entertained feelings for Emily.

“No,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head, glaring at the drawer in which the false document lay waiting for its implementation. “I cannot wed Dierdre.”

But something had to be done about the document. He needed to straighten out the matter with Worthing as soon as possible.

Even more imperative to his peace of mind, Nick knew he had to do something to gain Emily’s forgiveness for the problems he had caused her. Perhaps if he explained face-to-face why he had left as he had, and then stayed away. Would she believe him then? She had obviously doubted his written words.

The door opened and Nick looked up. Wrecker grinned at him. “She’s a goer, that’un, ain’t she?”

“Mind your tongue,” Nick warned him. “Leave it hanging out like that and you’re likely to lose it.”

“Beg pardon, m’lord.” His gap-toothed grin grew wider. “Y’know, she woulda made straight for th’ lad again just now?” He poked his beefy chest with his thumb. “I stopped her. She were stompin’ all the way up the stair, mad enough to curse if she knew how.”

Nicholas stood and rounded the desk. “I’ll go up and see to her.”

Wrecker laughed slyly. “Aye, m’lord. I would do just that if I was you.”

Clearly the man knew Emily was forbidden game for himself and the rest of the men. But it was also quite apparent that he thought Nicholas intended to take advantage of her unchaperoned presence.

“The lady is my guest while we wait out the quarantine,” he explained. “She is the vicar’s daughter, Joshua’s sister, and a dear friend of mine. One hint of an insult to her or behind her back, and the perpetrator shall answer to me. And I shall not be kind. Is that understood?”

Wrecker shrugged, still smiling. “Aye, m’lord, I understand. We all do.”

It was no use. Through fear, he could control what they said, but the men would think whatever they would. There was no alternative to keeping Emily here, however, despite the harm to her reputation. If he released her and she fell ill, the sickness could spread.

He promised himself he would only go to her room this once, just to reassure her again about Joshua’s welfare. Then he would leave her alone. The less he saw of her, the fewer rumors would fly when this was over. But some would fly, he thought with resignation.

Emily tore off her shawl and bonnet in pure frustration and flopped down upon the bed.

The lavish appointments within the countess’s chamber did not surprise her. She had been here before, long ago, and nothing much had changed. The rich, rose fabric of the bed hangings and the draperies had faded a bit, the ornate walnut furniture could use a good dusting, but the room was essentially the same as when she had visited here at her father’s side. How privileged and grown up she had felt at the time, being allowed inside. Now, of course, she realized she had lent propriety to the vicar’s visit to Nicholas’s invalid mother.

The room felt at once both comforting and discomforting. It provided a familiar haven, yet emphasized the vast gulf between her station and that of a noble lady.

What a fool she had been to think Nicholas would ever have chosen such as her to wed. To his credit, he had actually never mentioned marriage. But he had made her believe that he loved her. She’d had to guess what he had in mind then, and to her dismay, she had wrongly assumed that his intentions were honorable.

The present indignity was not to be borne, she thought with a forceful groan. That hulk of a seaman who accosted her just now and prevented her going to Joshua, had all but accused her of coming here for the worst purpose imaginable.

“See to his lordship if ye must heal summat,” he had said suggestively. “Poor sod could do wif a bit o’ sympathy, hard as it’s been for ’im.”

Emily would have dearly liked to slap that silly grin off his whiskered face if she could have reached it. The wretched giant.

Before the sun set this evening, the entire population of Bournesea would believe Nicholas was keeping her here for immoral reasons.

Was he? Had Nicholas considered it? Did that rough-looking man who had stopped her from seeing Josh know something that she did not?

No, she didn’t really believe Nick would deliberately ruin her. Though he had very nearly done exactly that before he’d left for India, he had been scarcely more than a boy at the time. And half the fault of it had been hers since she had not in any way discouraged him from kissing her.

To be perfectly honest, she continued to treasure the memory of that passionate kiss in the deepest, most secret part of her. Wicked of her, she knew, but it was all she had of him or would ever have. She had loved him with all her heart.

A good thing she had replaced those feelings with dislike. Not hate, however. No matter how hard she tried or how much she wanted to, she could never bring herself to hate Nicholas.

Blaming him for the results of the kiss might be highly unfair, but it had helped her get over the fact that he had not loved her. And now it would serve to keep a chasm between them that sorely needed to be there.

If she were honest, she had to allow that he could do little else in this instance but force her to stay at Bournesea. Given a choice, she supposed she would have recommended the quarantine herself.

She couldn’t leave poor Joshua here to mend on his own. Nor would she dare risk carrying the cholera outside these walls. Still, she hated being put in this dreadful position.

The soft knock on the door surprised her. She scrambled up from the bed and quickly brushed her hands over her hair. “Yes, who is it?”

Instead of a verbal answer, the door opened.

“Nick—I mean, my lord?” she gasped. “What are you doing? It is highly improper for you to be here!”

He had not bothered donning a coat for the visit. Employing all her will, she directed her gaze away from his exposed neck and muscular forearms.

He hesitated a moment, then stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind him. “I have told you that you are not allowed in the men’s quarters, Emily, yet you would have gone straight to Joshua only moments after I said that. Have you no care for your health?”

“I needed to see him,” she argued. “And you did say he was nearly well.”

“Nearly, but still prone to the occasional bout of fever and other symptoms,” he explained. “I hope it will not be necessary to lock you in this chamber to prevent your disobeying my orders.”

She gaped at him in disbelief. “You would not dare!”

His determined expression left no doubt in her mind that he would.

“Very well, I shall wait to visit him, but not for long,” she conceded reluctantly, turning away and peering out the window to keep from looking at Nicholas. The very sight of him stirred emotions she had believed well conquered years ago.

She jumped when his strong hands clasped her shoulders. Hands she remembered all too well. Hands that had caressed her face, threaded through her hair, held her close against him, fingers flexing, tempting, making her wish…

“I promise on my honor that Josh will be hale in no time. Have I ever lied to you?”

With that question, fury suffused her body and she whirled on him, breaking his hold on her shoulders. She shoved against his chest with both hands. “Yes!” she hissed. “Yes, Nicholas, you have lied, by deeds if not words! How do I know you are not lying now? How could I ever trust you to care for my little brother when you had no thought to care for me?”

“I never lied to you. I regret that you cannot forgive me for leaving the way I did,” he said curtly, “but I tell you again, I was left with no choice. And once I was gone, it was necessary that I stay away. For both our sakes.”

Emily took a deep breath, her lips firmly closed on the words she would have spat in anger. Necessary, he said. Necessary, because he had always been betrothed to another woman, long before he had kissed Emily. Necessary, because he feared she would expect more than he could have righteously offered. Necessary, because he did not and never had loved her.

He stepped closer and touched her face. In horror and fascination, she watched his mouth lower to hers. Only at the last moment, did he place the kiss upon her cheek instead of her trembling lips.

Oh, sweet heaven, the gentleness, the heat of that mouth. It had been so long since he had touched her, held her. His tantalizing scent clouded her mind and his breath warmed her face. Fire rushed through her veins, obliterating all caution. He had not changed. She had not.

“My dearest Emily,” he whispered, breaking the spell he’d woven as effectively as if he had doused her with a bucket of icy water.

She shoved him away. “Dearest, is it? Get out of this room, Nicholas. Do it now!”

He had the audacity to look surprised. “What the devil is wrong with you, Em? I only meant to—”

“I know exactly what you meant to do!” She backed away, her arms crossed over her chest, wishing they could shield her heart. The foolish thing had barely begun to mend from the last time he broke it.

Though he turned to go, he faced her again when he stood in the doorway. “You have no cause to fear me, Emily. I would never do anything to cause you further pain.”

She remained silent, far from certain she believed him, and unwilling to lie about it. Though Nick’s intention would never be to inflict any deliberate hurt upon her, Emily knew he could do so without even trying, maybe without even knowing.

He searched her eyes for her answer and seemed to find it there. “I did care for you then, Emily. And whether you can accept the truth or not, I still do.”

There was little she could say to that. He might still desire her. But hunger was a common thing for a man to feel toward any female. Even if Nick did not recognize the difference, she now knew better than to confuse desire with true caring. At least he said nothing of loving her.

Without further words, he went out of the room and gently closed the door. She heard his measured footsteps on the stairs and felt as bereft as she always did when deprived of his company. That had not altered at all, unless she counted the fact that the deprivation cut even more deeply now.

With Nicholas residing continents away, it had been somehow easier to accept that he did not love her. How was she supposed to bear it when they were living under the same roof?

No matter how much she wished it, there seemed no way out of this conundrum. Though she wanted nothing more than to sneak back out the gardener’s gate with her brother and double her efforts to forget Nicholas Hollander, she knew that she and Joshua had no recourse but to remain here until the quarantine was over.

Emily straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Running is the coward’s way,” she muttered vehemently to herself, pounding one fist soundly into the opposite palm. “And you, Emily Loveyne, have never resorted to such behavior in your life. Where is your courage?”

She had overcome the snide remarks and polite censure of the whole village of Bournesea, as well as that of the old Lord Kendale, when she was hardly more than a girl out of short skirts. Never once had she doubted her eventual success in that endeavor.

Now she was a woman with the blinders of first love torn away and a much better understanding of people in general. Of men, in particular. Clearly, she could stand what she must and weather this storm, as well.

There was certain to be one, she realized. No one in the entire county would ever believe she had spent a whole fortnight in this manor with the man she once adored without surrendering to his charms.

It would likely take her more than seven years this time to convince them of her innocence.

Emily used the bellpull, after all. During the hours alone in the countess’s old chamber with nothing to read but a well-thumbed book of poetry, she grew desperately bored.

One could only dwell so long on the ramblings of Byron. Was this what Nicholas’s mother had endured day after day? Lying abed, pondering the rather pointless meanderings of a dissolute poet? Small wonder she always seemed so glad to greet the vicar and his tagalong.

Emily recalled the occasions she had come here with her father while the countess was alive. Lady Elizabeth’s dark beauty had always left Emily awestruck, as had the woman’s unguarded opinions expressed so openly to a man of God. Many of Emily’s own views of life were colored by that ready candor.

She had also noted that when her father led them in the requisite parting prayer for improvement of the lady’s health, the countess neither bowed her head nor closed her eyes. Once she had even winked and smiled at Emily who had been sneaking a look up at her.

Though they had rarely spoken to one another, the motherless Emily had imagined a bond between them.

“Well, here I am again, my lady,” Emily said aloud to the room where the countess had breathed her last. “Best lend me some of that wry humor of yours. I feel I might need it when this little visit with your esteemed son is over.”

Byron’s little book, lying forgotten on the edge of the mattress suddenly slid off and hit the floor with a thump. A chill ran up Emily’s spine. “Thank you, that is quite enough to set me laughing,” she muttered. “Keep your humor to yourself now.”

Lord, here she was imagining ghosts and talking to the dearly departed. If half a day in this place had her speaking to the walls, she could only imagine how she would be faring after two interminable weeks of it.

Unlike some women who said they could not touch a bite of food when in distress, Emily craved chocolate. At the moment she would have wrestled someone to the floor for a cup of the stuff. And cakes to go with it.

It had grown dark outside. For the third time in less than an hour, she gave the intricately braided cord a firm yank, imagining a bell jangling somewhere below. With all of the servants gone to London, she doubted there would be anyone there to hear it. She could not imagine any of the ship’s crew hanging about in the butler’s pantry.

Though Emily had been fairly well acquainted with the kitchen and service areas of the house at one time, she was not inclined to venture down the stairs and make herself at home there now.

Still fully dressed except for her boots, she curled up on the wide feather bed and drew the coverlet over her. If eventually, someone did answer her summons, she would request her sweets, a stack of books from his lordship’s library and a bucket of coal to fuel the small fireplace. It was mid-May, and the evening had brought a chill with it.

A loud knock woke her from a sound sleep. Emily jerked upright and brushed her tousled curls out of her eyes. “Yes? Who is it?”

The door opened. “Emily? I’m afraid the captain took a turn for the worse last evening and I quite forgot to send anyone with your dinner.” Nicholas balanced a silver tray on one arm as he approached.

Carefully, but hurriedly, he set it upon the mattress beside her hip and gestured to the room at large. “I also neglected to offer you the use of Mother’s things. Please avail yourself of the clothing, writing materials, and anything else you find that you can use.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

“By the way, your brother is feeling quite the thing today.” He began to back toward the door.

“Wait,” she said, reaching out, almost upsetting the teapot. “Don’t go yet! Tell me more of Joshua, please?”

He stopped where he was. “He is fine, the doctor says. No fever at all last night or this morning. And his appetite seems quite normal.”

“I cannot tell you how that relieves my mind.” Emily sighed. “Could I trouble you for something to read today? And perhaps some coal?”

“Certainly, anything you wish.”

He smiled then and seemed to deliberately shake off whatever had caused his abruptness. “Look, I know this waiting is damned hard for you, Emily. What if I make a compromise and allow you to see Josh for a few moments? Just from the doorway to his room, you understand. Would that help?”

Emily burst into tears, covering her face with her hands.

“No, no weeping, please,” he said softly, approaching the bed again. “Hear now, if you hush, I will let you visit him directly after supper.”

“Truly?”

“Yes, truly.” His hand lightly caressed her hair and rested on the back of her neck. “Shall I take Josh a message from you this morning?”

She nodded vigorously and sniffed. “Tell—tell him I cannot wait to see him again. That I love him so. And that Father and I missed him dreadfully.”

Nicholas pushed the tray aside and edged one hip onto the bed, beside her. He pulled her close so that her bowed head rested against his chest while his long fingers brushed over her curls.

“I have a feeling all will be well,” he told her. “You know, even after that small setback last evening, Captain Roland feels much better this morning than he has at all since coming down with this? And George Tuckwell, the purser, is nearly as well recovered as Josh.”

“No one else has had complaints?” she asked, looking up at him.

He wiped the tears from her cheeks with one finger. “Not a soul. I have had each man report the state of his health to me three times daily. Other than the occasional gripe of being landlocked, not a one has suffered so much as a bellyache. I believe we have almost weathered this.”

She didn’t dare to hope, but she asked anyway. “Will you still insist upon our remaining enclosed here for the entire fortnight?”

“I must, Emily, for safety’s sake. Please understand.”

Oh, how she wished they could remain as they were. How marvelous to feel his strong arms around her, his hands cradling her back, her shoulders, threading through her hair. She inhaled deeply, drawing in the scent of him, wanting more…

Carefully, he disengaged himself from her and stood again, replacing the tray so that she could reach it. “Breakfast now, and you may go below. The library is yours for the day. I shall work elsewhere.”

Emily felt dizzy, light as air, as if a huge lead weight had been removed from her shoulders. Surely he did care, at least a little. “Is there anything I may do to help out…my lord?”

He cocked a brow and pursed his lips. “For one thing, you might cease the my lord foolishness and call me Nick as you always have done.”

She smiled and busied herself pouring her chocolate. “I should have used your honorary address all these years, but no one saw fit to correct me. Except your father. He was appalled that I should speak of you at all.”

“You talked with Father? When was that? He rarely spoke to me, let alone any other child about the place.”

She stirred the chocolate and took a heavenly sip, then another before she replied, “Oh, I was no longer a child when he and I had our first and last conversation. He considered me a full-grown Jezebel, ripe for a set-down.”

“The bloody old bastard!” Nicholas’s sharp intake of breath surprised her, as did the epithet. “I hate that he spoke rudely to you, Em.”

“Yes, well, he minced no words.” She waved off his concern. “But that’s over and done and of no consequence. You have enough to worry about. Go and see Joshua, if you will. Tell him I shall expect a detailed travelogue, so he is to be arranging it all in his mind for the telling. That should occupy him for the day and relieve his boredom.”

“A wonderful idea. How wise of you,” he remarked.

“My wisdom knows no bounds. Nor my humility. For your information, age has improved me considerably.” She daintily set down her cup, shooting him a look that challenged him to disagree.

Nicholas shook his head and laughed. “You have not changed at all, Emily.”

She watched him go.

“How wrong you are, Nicky. How woefully wrong you are about that.”

Without so much as a jiggle of the tray, the serviette that was perched upright beside her plate tumbled itself over and unfolded.

Emily caught her breath, then exhaled sharply. “Well, it is true,” she announced to the spirit she fancied lurking about her. “I am no longer that docile child I was then.”

Emily imagined she heard a trill of muted feminine laughter. This time she was not frightened at all for it seemed to ring with distinct approval. And besides that, a properly bred vicar’s daughter did not credit the existence of ghosts.

To prove it to herself, Emily wolfed down the remainder of her breakfast, shucked off her wrinkled dress and went directly to the countess’s armoire. There she selected an out-of-date morning gown of sky-blue chintz trimmed with delicate white embroidery. On a shelf at the bottom, she located matching kid slippers.

“You see?” she muttered as she dressed. “If I feared you were hanging about to object, I would not dare appropriate anything belonging to a Kendale. Not the dress,” she declared, yanking it off the hanger and threading her arms through the sleeves. “Or the shoes,” she added, sliding her feet into the slippers.

Or the son? The teasing whisper of thought piqued Emily’s mind like a dare.

“Oh, no, ma’am. That never occurred to me. Not this time,” she said with a roll of her eyes and a short laugh at the fanciful turn of mind boredom had inflicted. “Believe me, I have learned my lesson there.”




Chapter Three


The day had crawled by like a fly through molasses, Emily thought as she thumped down yet another tome of dreadful prose. Her patience with the printed word was scant at best, and pared even thinner by the scarcity of anything interesting in the earl’s library.

She jumped when the enormous ormolu clock struck the first chime of seven. Would Nicholas never send for her? Surely all the men had eaten by now.

He had promised she could see Josh after dinner. Her own meal had been delivered half an hour ago. The plain fare had little to recommend it, or else excitement had diminished her hunger so that she could scarcely taste a thing.

“Are you ready to visit?” Nick asked as he stuck his head around the door. “That brother of yours is demanding your presence.”

“It’s about time!” she exclaimed as she rushed to join him. “How is he this evening?”

“Doing exceptionally well, but dreadfully anxious to see you.” Nicholas took her arm, more to prevent her unseemly haste than to lend escort, Emily decided. “That blue you’re wearing does wonders for your eyes.”

“You’re very kind,” she said, using her most formal tone. Determined to project her most ladylike behavior and do justice to her attire, she adopted a slower, more graceful gait that would have done the countess proud.

When they reached the hallway leading to her brother’s room, however, she almost broke into a run. The door stood open and she would have dashed through it to hug him if Nicholas had not grasped her arm. “Wait. You should not approach too closely just yet,” he warned. “Let’s be prudent.”

“Joshua, darling!” she said, so desperately happy to see him, gripping the doorjamb with one hand and Nicholas’s arm with the other for support.

How tall Josh had grown these past months! Her eager gaze traveled from his beloved face to his skinny arms and then the length of his legs beneath the covers. She’d been twelve when he was born. With their mother a victim of childbed fever shortly after that, Josh’s care had fallen to her. He was more like a son than a brother. And now her dear boy was nearly grown.

“Tell me how you are,” she pleaded. “I would hear it from you.”

“Well enough.” He crossed his lanky arms over his concave chest and deepened his frown. “And I am bound to tell you, sister,” he announced, his voice much deeper and more forceful than she remembered. He pinned her with a glare. “You have sealed your fate by coming here.”

“No, no, my dear, you must not worry about that,” she said, holding out one hand as if she was touching him, soothing him. “Lord Kendale assures me that the danger of contagion is no longer of much concern. You must not fret—”

“Contagion is not the problem I am addressing, Emily,” he declared. “It is your very presence among us that will do you worse than a bout with the cholera.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “What in the world could be worse than that?”

He took a deep breath, his glare whipping to Nicholas, then back to her. “You will be damned by everyone you know if he does not marry you. Am I not correct in this, my lord?”

She heard Nicholas clear his throat. At first, she believed he would not answer Josh’s impertinence, for the silence stretched on for what seemed too long. Then he sighed. “You have the right of it, Loveyne. Indeed. She has been compromised beyond help, through no fault of her own.”

“Or of yours!” Emily exclaimed. “Nicholas, you cannot possibly be considering—”

“That marriage between us would solve matters. Joshua has a perfect right to make the demand,” he said without inflection.

“But he doesn’t understand,” she argued. “Josh cannot possibly realize the complications such a mésalliance would involve.”

“He is your brother, Emily,” Nicholas replied as if that justified the matter of Josh’s interference. “No one can force you to accept, of course, but I shall make my offer. Will you marry me?”

As proposals went, she found it sorely lacking in emotion. His expression was devoid of feeling, his voice too carefully controlled to betray a jot of either satisfaction or anger. She could in no way discern what Nicholas was really thinking about all of this. Small wonder. He was caught in a trap of her making with only one honorable way out of it unless she refused him.

She should refuse. Her heart sank in despair. On the one hand, she would have to render useless her brother’s demand and risk both his pride and his good opinion of her.

Judging by the look on Joshua’s face at the moment, he would never forgive her if she spurned his effort to protect her.

On the other hand, she could agree to a marriage that was almost certain to founder upon the rocks of Nicholas’s resentment and their social inequality.

He did not really love her. She had been nothing to him but a youthful indiscretion, easily discarded and all but forgotten.

His father had said that he was betrothed to Dierdre Worthing. However, Emily knew he did not love Dierdre, either, or he would have come back to England and married her long before now. Despite her apparent suitability, that one would make Nick a terrible wife, Emily thought wickedly. How tempting it was to know she could prevent that with a word.

Nicholas’s strong fingers tightened on her arm. In warning or encouragement? she wondered.

“Emily, this is not open to argument,” Joshua declared, sounding for all the world like their father in one of his rare attempts at disciplining them when they were younger. As if he had read her mind, he added, “You know very well what Father will say. You have no damned choice. None.”

She gaped at him. “Joshua James Loveyne, you mind your language!”

He glared back. “Then you mind your reputation!”

“Here now, there’s no cause to quarrel,” Nicholas admonished. “Emily will do the right thing. She only needs a few moments to adjust to the idea,” he said to Josh, as if she were not there.

“‘A few moments?”’ she snapped, yanking her arm out of Nick’s grasp. “‘The right thing’? Since when? It might have been the right thing seven years ago after what you did! Now, I’m not altogether certain I would have you if you went on bended knee and begged, Nicholas Hollander! Oh, excuse me, my lord,” she said with all the sarcasm she could muster. “I should use your title, should I not? Have you thought of that at all? How do you think I would answer to my lady?” She threw up both hands for emphasis. “Your esteemed father vowed I would be laughed out of the country should I even aspire to become a countess!”

“My father would have said anything to drive a larger wedge between us, Emily. You know he had another bride in mind for me.”

She shook with rage. “A flaming pity she so conveniently escaped your mind when it most counted! I should like to have known of her myself before I fell into your arms like some shameless trollop!”

“Wait! What’s this?” Joshua demanded, springing upright in the bed.

Nicholas strode over to him and braced his hand on Josh’s shoulder. “You stay right where you are, young man.”

“Fetch your weapons, sir,” Josh growled, “I demand satisfaction for my sister’s honor.”

Emily could have laughed at Nick’s expression of dismay if she had not been so worried Josh truly would do something foolish. Nick would never allow a duel of any kind, but her brother’s beet-red face and clenched jaw told her he would neither forget nor forgive until he had acquired some sort of satisfaction.

“Josh, he didn’t—Nicholas did not dishonor me,” she hurried to explain. “I spoke only of the kiss. You’ve known of that for ages. Everyone knows of it. Nothing else happened, I promise. Not ever.”

Except for Nicholas making her feel treasured, acting as if he loved her, actually saying how he would never want anyone else but her. However, she couldn’t let herself dwell upon those lies at the moment or she’d be demanding the pistols herself.

“Just the kiss? You swear?” Josh directed his question to Nick.

“On my honor, I swear,” Nicholas replied. “And I would have married her then if circumstances had not prevented it. I will marry her now, so there is no need for all this uproar. Do you want a relapse when you are nearly well?”

He would have married her then? What an outright lie! How dare he say such a thing? She wanted to scream at him for it, but Emily could tell Nick’s patience was already thin enough to read a book through. Josh’s trembling now looked more a result of exhaustion than anger.

Her brother was not up to this. Nor was she. And Nicholas ought to be more careful where he flung his half-baked proposals.

“When?” she asked, commanding their sudden and undivided attention.

“Tomorrow,” Josh answered without pause.

“As soon as your father comes here looking for you,” Nick amended. “I regret I cannot allow anyone to go and inform him and request his presence. You both know the reason. He will come tomorrow or the next day, surely, for there are too few places you could have gone other than here.”

“Very well,” she agreed, sounding as reluctant as she felt. Once they were married, she fully intended to be a good wife to Nicholas, but she could not help regretting how the marriage was to come about.

The main problem was, she had not realized just how frightfully angry she still was with him. For several years now she’d believed she had forgiven him for the most part, and that he no longer mattered so much to her. Now that she’d seen him again, she knew that neither was true.

Pride insinuated its ugly head, as well, she thought. It galled her that he acted as if he had done nothing to ruin her life thus far and was now doing her a huge favor.

Also, she did not relish explaining the necessity of the marriage to her father. It only underlined her greatest fault, her impulsiveness. “You will make the explanations,” she told Nicholas in no uncertain terms.

“I expected to do so,” he assured her. “I will ask for you as is right and proper.”

“‘Right and proper,”’ she repeated to herself, shook her head at the irony of it all, and turned away from the doorway to Josh’s chamber. She did not even wish them good-night.

It would serve them both right if they didn’t sleep a wink. She was certain she would not be able to close her eyes.

“A moment, Em,” Nick called as she crossed the garden to the house. She kept walking. “Wait, I say! We need to talk about this.”

“Why?” Emily asked over her shoulder. “You have my consent. What else is required?”

He caught up to her and fell in step. “Look, Em, I am sorry things have turned out as they have. I want you to know—”

“That you wish I had kept myself outside your walls,” she interrupted. “I realize that. So do I, but I did not, and now we are stuck with the consequences.”

“No,” he protested vehemently. “That’s not what I mean at all. Marriage is not such a dire fate, now is it? You have already admitted there’s no other man whom you wish to wed.”

“Ah, true enough,” she began sagely, “but there is another woman who thinks she is a part of your future.”

“There was never an understanding between Dierdre and myself,” Nick insisted, running a hand over the back of his neck. “Certainly nothing legally binding. Even if Lord Worthing ever expected a marriage between us, he would say nothing publicly. Fear of scandal would prevent him.”

“So one would hope,” she said. “And what of the scandal that will affect your good name, my lord? A common bride gained under rather common conditions?”

Much to her surprise, he laughed. “Everyone will doubtless assume we’re a love match.”

“But we, of course, will know better, will we not.” She did not ask it as a question, for they both knew the answer.

He reached for her hand and held on, even when she would have pulled away. “Emily, I know how you feel about me now, but marriage will be the best thing. Think, you’ll not have to serve as a governess to make your way and support your father and Josh. You may have whatever you need, whatever you want. As a matter of fact, I am nearing thirty and it’s past time I wed. So you see? We shall both benefit.”

She could not believe what she was hearing from the very man who once oozed charm as if he owned the patent on the commodity. “Convenient, is it?” she asked in a clipped voice.

Nicholas inclined his head thoughtfully. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it is.”

He supposed? And she was expected to smile sweetly and open her arms to him now? Surrender all her pride, forget what he had done and thank him for the privilege of becoming his wife? Devil take him!

“Fine!” she announced, jerking her hand away and clenching it into a fist, which she shook at him forcefully. “Then let us make it imminently convenient for the both of us! I shall keep to my own bed after the sham vows are recited and you shall keep to yours! Or anyone else’s bed you fancy, for all I care!”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” he demanded, his dark brows coming together to make a vicious V over his angry eyes. His lips drew into a firm line and she could see a muscle work rhythmically in his jaw.

She propped her fists on her hips. “Well, if you didn’t understand what I said, my lord, perhaps it is you who need a governess. Since we are to have a loveless union and it is all for outward show, there will be no consummation of it. Do you understand that, sir, or need I make it plainer still?”

For a long moment fraught with tension, he said absolutely nothing. Then his features slowly smoothed out into an unreadable expression. “I did promise that you could have whatever you wanted,” he said softly. “Whether you believe it or not, I am a man of my word. Just be certain you really want what you demand.”

He pushed past her and entered the house. She did not see him again until just after the brute called Wrecker came the next morning to summon her to the front gates.

“Good thing ye donned a fancy frock,” he told her as soon as she opened the door of her room. “Yer Da is here ta make a honest woman of ye.”

Emily gathered up the slightly too long skirts of the countess’s mint-colored muslin morning gown and followed Wrecker down the stairs. She could swear she heard a voice softly singing “Greensleeves” in a sprightly off-key soprano. A voice that the burly sailor either chose to ignore, or else could not hear. It sounded amazingly like the countess.

Emily shook her head to clear it of the fanciful notion, but the phantom sound continued.

“Well, I’m glad you are happy,” Emily muttered under her breath.

“Oh, aye, ma’am. Nothin’ like a good weddin’, I always say,” Wrecker announced. “Long as it ain’t mine.”

The moment they exited the house, Emily saw Nicholas waiting beside the gates. He wore dove-gray trousers, Hessians and a dark blue coat. This was the first time in her two days here that she had seen him so impeccably turned out. Somehow it touched her to know he would go to the trouble to dress so nicely for their impromptu wedding.

She was glad she had decided to put up her hair and attempt to make a good show of herself. Also, it had been wise of her to wear one of the countess’s dresses instead of her own dark gabardine frock that had seen better days. She would have felt mortified had she attended this appearing like a frump when Nick had gone to so much bother.

In all honesty, she knew she should have felt more compunction about wearing another woman’s clothing, but somehow the soft, lovely gowns soothed and warmed her in the same way her gentle mother’s embrace had done when she was a child. Strange that should be so when Emily had hardly known Lady Elizabeth.

Two guards wearing crooked, wrinkled cravats, hair slicked down and scarred boots polished, stood nearby. Dr. Evans, whom she had met only in passing, was there, as well. Through the wrought-iron bars, she saw her father standing alone some yards away.

The familiar shock of white hair, the dreamy gray eyes under wire-rimmed spectacles, and the portly figure contained in slightly out-of-date black attire, made her ache to hug this sweet man she loved so dearly. Would he understand her predicament? Would he approve what they were about to do to rectify it?

She waved as she approached and spoke to him when she drew close enough for him to hear. “What do you think, Father? Have I gone completely beyond the pale this time?”

He smiled, as she’d expected he would, and gestured toward Nicholas with his prayer book. “Moot question, but not to worry, child. His lordship has matters well in hand, my dear. Yes, yes, I’m certain you’ll do right well with one another.” In an abrupt change of subject that was totally characteristic of him, he asked, “You’ve seen Joshua?”

Emily brightened, happy to bring her father good news. “Just last evening. I wish he could be out here so you could see him. His health is improving, however, and you’ll not believe how he’s grown, Da. His voice is so deep and, though he’s still abed and ’twas hard to tell for sure, he looks to have grown a foot taller these past months.”

“Good, good. Well he should grow, now shouldn’t he? Be strange if he didn’t at his age.”

“Pardon me, sir, but we ought to proceed,” Nicholas interjected. “It is misting and we wouldn’t want our Emily to catch a chill on her wedding day.”

Emily shot him a frown. How dare he interrupt her conversation when she was reassuring her father about her brother’s health. But the men already standing there and those who’d just joined them, were watching them as closely as if this were a tennis match. She knew better than to set up a contest of wills with Nick when she had no prayer of winning. She must choose her battles.

The very idea that she could not afford to speak her mind made the urge to do so all the greater, but she kept her mouth firmly shut and stifled the longing. Impulse had been her downfall too many times to give in to it.

“Now, now,” her father admonished Nicholas. “No need to rush on account of that. My daughter’s as hardy as one of your sailors there. Got a strong constitution, my girl has. Never sick. Never.”

Emily almost rolled her eyes in exasperation. Fine thing, her own parent likening her with a seasoned tar. And Nicholas did not have to add insult to injury by allowing his amusement to show. She was already jumpy as a rabbit. Did they both have to make matters worse?

“Let’s get on with it,” she snapped. She marched forward and stationed herself at Nicholas’s left.

“Pretend, Emily,” he said, leaning near her ear to speak softly so that only she could hear.

She searched his eyes to see whether he was making sport of her at this particularly inappropriate moment, but it appeared he was now quite serious.

“Stretch those lovely lips into a smile,” he ordered, hardly moving his lips when he said it. “And for pity’s sake, take my hand. Pinch me if it makes you feel better, but do not outwardly betray your reluctance further or it will trouble the vicar. I have just spent half an hour convincing him that we are well suited.”

“Half an hour? A great deal more than you spent persuading me,” she muttered. But she did as he suggested. She pasted on the most pleasant face she could manage under the circumstances and thrust out her chin. In a louder voice, she said, “Shall we begin?”

The lines her father read and the vows required were those Emily had heard dozens of times in her years as the vicar’s daughter. She had witnessed weddings of great joy and meaning, and those where couples were less than enthusiastic. Never had she been a party to a total travesty such as this. She feared lightning might strike one or the other of them before the deed was done.

Fate would have served her better if she didn’t still love the cad, but she did promise to do that much since she had no choice in the matter. God alone knew she had tried for years to banish him from her heart with no success. It seemed he was stuck there like a nettle that could not be pulled free.

And she would be faithful, she thought to herself, almost laughing aloud at the idea of searching out any other man. She’d had problems enough with this one, even when he’d been absent. Heaven only knew how much trouble he’d be now that he was back again. Yes. One man would be more than enough.

When her father mentioned the part about obeying, Emily crossed the fingers of her left hand, hidden within the folds of her skirt.

As for honoring him with her body, Emily stumbled over those words when prompted to repeat them. Nicholas had reached for her free hand and was grasping both now as if he knew about the crossed fingers, daring her to avoid the promise.

She was making it under duress, Emily told herself. Even so, she supposed she would have to live up to it, in spite of her demand that they not share a bed.

However, nothing in the vicar’s little book of ceremonies required her to say when she must. Nick could jolly well wait until she felt like it.

“I will,” she answered.

Nick squeezed her hands and smiled down at her.

She started to say, “Eventually,” aloud, but the word would not form on her lips. Too many ears were listening and her courage did not extend quite that far.




Chapter Four


Nick slipped the ring onto Emily’s finger. It was not originally intended as a wedding band, but there could hardly be a ceremony without a ring of some sort. He’d been surprised to find that this and the other jewelry had survived. If his father had discovered it, it would surely have been sold. The dainty gold filigree surrounding the sky-blue stones looked perfect on Emily’s graceful hand, fitting in every way, he thought.

“By the power vested in me by the Church of England, I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the vicar proclaimed in the loud, sonorous voice he usually reserved for the pulpit.

Nicholas closed his eyes for a brief moment. Emily was his now. He had convinced himself it was never fated to happen, that it had never been meant to take place, that she would be long wed with several children by the time he returned to England.

In those first letters to her after he’d reached India, he had poured out his heart to her, vowing undying love like the half-witted fool he was at the time. He now knew that love as described by the poets did not and never had existed. But he had liked Emily so much, felt wildly protective of her and had actually lusted after her with all his might that last year they had been friends. He had wanted her desperately then and, much to his chagrin, found that he still did.

In his letters he had explained in minute detail about his forced departure, assuring her that he had not only her own future in mind, but also that of her family.

She’d not only withheld her forgiveness, but had never offered any response whatsoever. She had intended to cut him from her life permanently.

Her unbending attitude had made him furious with her. Though the worst of his anger had passed long ago, he did admit now that a residue of it remained. It had literally doubled the instant she’d demanded a marriage in name only.

She looked up at him now, obviously steeling herself for the kiss that would seal their union. He wished he could kiss her witless, show her just how alive and well her desire for him truly was.

Emily might no longer trust him, and she might resent having to marry him, but her response each time he touched her was evident. Beneath his thumbs he could detect her rapid pulse. Her breathing grew unsteady as he drew nearer. Heat reddened her cheeks. Her lips trembled.

God only knew how much he wanted to take that impudent mouth and make it his, but he did not. Firmly reining in the impulse, he lowered his closed lips to her forehead and rested them there for an instant.

Did he imagine that hum of disappointment she made deep in her throat? Or had that been his own? He stepped away, still holding her hands.

“There,” he said simply as the hesitant applause and good wishes of his men rent the stillness of the cold morning air around them.

“Thank you, sir,” he called out to the vicar. “We will invite you back as soon as is possible.”

Emily tugged one of her hands from his and waved at her father as the old fellow smiled at them and turned to leave.

Nicholas stood with her as she watched the vicar climb into his trap and ride off down the lane.

From the road through the wood in the opposite direction, he heard hoofbeats approaching. “Wait over there out of sight,” he ordered Emily and nodded his approval when she obeyed. He could see no point in having to explain a wedding in the middle of his courtyard in the misting rain.

The rider halted in confusion when he noticed the closed gates. It was Carrick, his first cousin. The brat had been the bane of Nick’s existence and seven years without his company was not nearly long enough.

“Hallo, Nick! Welcome home,” the man said, doffing his hat and nodding in lieu of a formal bow. “Are you refusing me entrance?”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, I am,” Nick answered with little regret. “You must ride on, Carrick. If you wish a reunion, it must wait.”

The outright rudeness seemed to shock even Carrick, who issued a small laugh of disbelief. “Are you going to tell me why you cannot speak with me now?”

“No, I am not,” Nick declared with no room for argument. “Do as I say, Carrick, and leave me in peace for the remainder of this month.”

“Something’s amiss here. I feel it.” Carrick paused, obviously expecting Nick to relent. Then he warned Nick, “I shall discover what it is.”

Nick said nothing, simply stared him down.

After a long moment of tense silence Carrick nodded. “As you wish.” He slowly reversed his mount and galloped away toward the village. No one moved until the distance had swallowed up horse and man.

It ill became an earl to speak so to any of his family or to deliberately slight his own heir, but Nick knew that—even at his worst today—he had been far more patient than his father would have been in like circumstances. He promised himself he would be more civil to Carrick when next they met.

For the time being, however, he would dismiss that small problem from his mind. It was his wedding day and he had other, far more important things to consider. Not the least of which was how he might go about regaining Emily’s good opinion.

Nicholas then gestured to her. “Come, we must go in now,” he told her as he glanced up at the threatening storm clouds.

He heard her sniff, but she had lowered her head and he could not tell whether she wept or was merely offering a wordless sound of indignation.

In many ways Emily had changed from that sunny girl he had known and believed he loved. He had altered even more than she, he supposed. Only time would tell whether they had grown too far apart in their maturity to reconcile somehow. One thing he did know: they never would find out if they attempted to live together as she intended.

For the duration of their seclusion here, her edict of celibacy made sense. Nicholas would have insisted on it had she not done so first, but their reasons were in no way the same. She expected it to be a permanent arrangement. As it was, the mere fortnight required by his reason would sorely test his resolve.

He would never risk her health to assuage desire. But when the quarantine was over, he feared they would have set the pattern for their life together. That would never do.

His goal at the moment should be to reestablish trust between them and renew their friendship. Then later, the path would be cleared so that he could coax her into his bed. Not much of a plan, but it would have to suffice.

“Our wedding breakfast will be ready by now if you are hungry,” he told her, forcing himself to speak amiably. “Even if you are not inclined to eat, we should both make a show. The men will expect it.”

“Of course,” she replied stiffly. “We would not wish to disappoint. What of the quarantine? How are we to gather for this when you have said there is to be no close interaction by the crew members?”

Nicholas led her up the front steps. “You and I shall take our meal in the dining room. The others usually help themselves from a buffet set up in the kitchens and wander where they will to eat. The only difference for the men today will be in the special dishes I ordered prepared to celebrate our marriage.”

“What sort of special dishes?” she asked.

Nicholas almost laughed at her attempt to sound nonchalant. “Leek soup. Fowl stuffed with rice and truffles. Asparagus and the usual peas.”

“We have all that?”

He nodded. “Certainly. The larders here were quite full when we arrived. There also will be the obligatory bridal cake with the bean, of course.” He stifled a smile as he added, “And lemon ice for everyone if Cook did not find the icehouse empty.”

Her hopeful gaze jerked to his. “Lemon ice? You…you remembered?”

Nicholas shrugged. “Hard to forget. You once made yourself ill you ate so much.”

To his great surprise, she laughed merrily. “So I did! I cannot credit you recall that incident. I was only eight. Such a little glutton!” she admitted, shaking her head. “Your fault, you know, for stealing it.”

He frowned. “You wound me! That was no theft. It was made for my birthday, after all. Shouldn’t I have had the choice to share it with whom I pleased?”

As they chatted on about their misbehavior, Emily took his arm and lengthened her steps to match his, exactly as she used to do when they were friends. It was an unconscious habit she reverted to, but Nicholas took immense pleasure from it while it lasted.

If she could assume this small intimacy again without thinking, there might be hope that she would one day make another, more profound slip in her determination to keep their marriage chaste. He devoutly hoped so, because even this casual sort of closeness threatened his control.

Did she know that? Was this a subtle form of torment she had devised to make him pay for past deeds? He suspected it was just that. Yet undeserved as it was, he would not wish her to cease plying it.

He spied Seaman Lofton waiting at the far end of the foyer and gave him the signal to get the feast under way. Then Nicholas escorted his bride to the formal dining room.

At every step, he cursed the circumstances that kept him from ushering her on up to the master chamber. And he wished he did not know how stubborn Emily could be once she had made up her mind about something. Sometimes the very things he liked most about her proved to be the most exasperating.

Happy is the bride the sun shines on. Emily grimaced at the rain now driving against the windows of the dining room. Wishing it away, she trained her attention on the food before her. She tried to ignore Nicholas as best she could, but he made that impossible.

She was heartily sick of small talk. It was difficult to respond to it when the realization that she was a wife now had just hit like a wall falling on her. She felt trapped by it, unable to wriggle this way or that. This could not be undone. It was forever, better or worse. She feared worse. She stared at the ring on her finger.

“I’ll buy you another when I go to London,” Nick said, obviously following her gaze. “Something grander if you like.”

She shook her head. “I’d rather you didn’t. I like the design of this one. It will do nicely, thank you.”

Fisting her hand in her lap, she glanced out the window again to avoid looking at him. In the distance, through the rain, she could see the spire of Father’s church above the treetops.

“I wish we could have married in the church,” Nick said as if he read her thoughts. “We should have had the entire county there to wish us happy.”

“You dreamer,” she replied and almost snorted. “They would have attended out of curiosity to see whether you had lost your mind. I noticed you neglected to break the news to your cousin.”

“Carrick? I always have as little to say to him as possible. I admit I was tempted to tell him about the cholera. He’s always had an unholy fear of any sickness, morbid or otherwise. We’d never have seen him again.” He grinned. “But of course, he would have promptly reported me for making landfall with an infectious disease and had me arrested.”

He changed the subject. “Tell me, how is Miss Jocularity doing these days?” He popped the bite of meat into his mouth, chewing vigorously.

Emily watched, spellbound by the workings of his smooth-shaven jaw. Realizing what she was doing, she jerked her gaze away and trained it on her plate.

But he would expect an answer. “Miss Tate? Still worthy of the appellation we assigned her. She frowns through Papa’s sermons, castigates every child within hearing distance, and prims up whenever I pass by.”

Nick swallowed and pointed at her with his fork. “Surely not. She always liked you best of all.”

Emily put down her own eating utensil, sat back in her chair and glanced again at the rivulets of rain. “Not anymore.”

When he said nothing to that, she looked back at him. “I forfeited her good graces. Nothing I have done since has restored me in her eyes. And she is not alone in her opinion.”

He regarded her steadily. “Because of the kiss,” he guessed.

“Yes, because of that.”

“You know who bears the blame for my leaving, Emily. That public display of ours was foolish and irresponsible. The results inevitable. You must know how deeply I regret it.”

“Why should you feel regret? You had what you wanted with none to think the worse of you. Even if you had remained here, my father would never have required you to answer for it.”

“I had no choice but to leave.”

Nick had mentioned blame. Was he saying she should assume it? Emily had to admit she had welcomed his kiss the way a dying woman would greet an extra hour of life. Had she, in her fervor, misread his desire? Maybe he had merely done what he thought she expected at the time. Her kiss must have disappointed him and he worried she would demand that he salvage her good name regardless of that. Why else would he feel forced to leave so suddenly? He said she should know where the blame lay. Where else but with her? His father had said it was so. Nick must think so, too.

“Very well, I believe I understand now,” she said, lowering her gaze again.

“Do you?” he asked, offering no reassurances. Not that he owed her any if he was right and it had been all her fault. He had certainly known she would expect marriage, even if her father would not have insisted. Of course he’d felt he had to leave.

“Would you please excuse me?” Emily pushed her chair away from the table and rose, tears perilously close to falling.

“Certainly,” he replied, standing immediately.

Before she reached the doorway, he approached and touched her arm. “Emily, wait. You look very pale. You’re not feeling ill, are you?”

She shook her head without looking at him. “No. I did not sleep well.”

“Go and rest, then.” He glanced at the clock on the mantel. “Come down to the library when you awaken. Or I shall bring a tray and join you for supper if you like.”

Replying with a curt nod, she escaped, hurried up the stairs to the far end of the third floor hallway and shut herself in the countess’s room. Tears of humiliation and despair had overtaken her halfway there and she gave way to them in full once the door was closed behind her.

She threw herself onto the bed and buried her face in a pillow. All these years she had blamed him for abandoning her to the scorn of their small village when in truth, it was she who had caused him to leave his home. Going away then had saved him from having to marry her, a woman he could not love, only to find himself trapped by that very fate because of her most recent folly. He must hate her now. Despite that, he still acted nobly toward her.

“Because he is noble,” she cried into her pillow, “as I shall never be. It will never work. Never!”

Rarely did she allow herself to weep over anything, but now she could not seem to stop. Rain beat against the windows as if the very skies wept for her. Years worth of pent-up misery spilled forth and she cried until she felt decidedly ill. Her eyes grew swollen and her head ached abominably. Exhausted beyond bearing and steeped in anguish, she finally fell asleep.

Nicholas balanced the tray of tea and cakes on one hand and knocked gently on her door with the other. It was four in the afternoon and he’d not seen Emily since breakfast. Her pallor and near silence had worried him. Angry or happy, she was rarely as quiet as she had been earlier.

When she did not answer, he knocked more firmly. “Emily? I’ve brought tea.”

Still no response. Nicholas tried the handle and found the door unlocked. He pushed it open a few inches and saw her lying facedown on the bed, still fully dressed. “Oh, God!” He flung the door open and rushed in. With a clatter of dishes, he shoved the tray onto the nearest flat surface and ran to her. “Em?”

She mumbled something but refused to move. Nick rolled her over onto her back and cupped her forehead with his palm. Hot. Burning with fever.

He grasped the bellpull and yanked it furiously, then ran to the doorway and shouted for the doctor. Immediately he dashed back to her, loosening her clothing, his hands trembling with fear for her.

“Nick? What…what are you doing?” she croaked in a weak voice as she batted ineffectually at his hands.

“You’re sick, Em. Be still! This corset is—curse the damned thing!” He untied and pulled free the laces that held it together below her breasts. At last he parted it, tugged it from beneath her body and threw it aside. He ripped the gown from her and tossed it, as well.

She stared up at him, muddled, speechless and obviously shocked by what he was doing.

“The doctor will be here in a moment,” he assured her while he drew the covers up to her neck. The brief glimpse of her clothed in only her chemise barely registered. He was too concerned she would die.

The doctor hurried in carrying his black case of instruments which he deposited on the bed beside Emily. Nicholas had moved out of his way, but quickly rounded the bed so that he could observe. “She has fever,” he announced, “and look at her face.”

A frightened Emily raised one hand to touch her cheek, but Nicholas grasped it in his and held it. “Be still, my sweet. Just be still for a moment. All will be well.” His voice shook, almost broke. He exchanged a look with the doctor who was frowning.

“My lord, I must ask you to leave for a short while.”

“No.”

“I must examine your wife.”

“Go ahead. And hurry,” Nick added. “I will stay.” The doctor shrugged and turned his full attention to Emily. “Have you…evacuated in the past few hours?” he asked. “Either way?”

Her eyes rounded. She sucked in an unsteady breath, looked from Nick to the doctor and gasped, “No.”

“Good sign,” he commented. “You do have a bit of fever. How do you feel?”

She paused to think, Nick supposed, for she did not reply for what seemed an eternity.

Finally she spoke. “My head. It aches. And I feel quite tired.”

The doctor patted her hand. “This might be nothing at all, you know. A touch of the ague or merely the excitement of the day. We shall get some fluids into you as quickly as we may, in the event it is the cholera.”

He glanced meaningfully at Nick who hurried to the door where Lofton was waiting and ordered up everything liquid he could think to list.

“For now, you’ll need this.” The doctor pulled a stoppered bottle and spoon from his case and poured a measure of the milky brown liquid for her. Nicholas recognized the smell. Laudanum.

His heart sank. Doc must believe she had cholera. The treatment he had given the others consisted of copious liquids and enough of this opium derivative to calm the stomach and digestive tract. He had said he thought that rapid loss of fluids was what killed the patients who died of the disease.

Nick watched with bated breath as Emily obediently swallowed the medicine and closed her eyes. Doc inclined his head toward the doorway, then stepped back from the bedside and headed for the hallway. Nick followed, knowing what he would hear and dreading it with all his heart. “Is it cholera?”

Doc sighed and leaned against the wall outside the bedroom, massaging his forehead with his hand. “I shan’t lie to you. Your wife most likely is in the early stages. Some do not develop the worst symptoms until after four or five days. Yet some sicken and die within hours. I just do not know at this point.”

“She cannot die,” Nick argued, grabbing the doctor’s arm in a vise grip. “You saved the others. Now you save her!”

“My lord, you know very well I will do everything within my power, but I am not God.”

Nick released a breath of impatience and started to reenter the room.

“My lord, you should go below and wait. At least until we know for certain.”

“If she succumbs, she will not do so alone or with people she does not know,” Nick replied. “I’ll not leave this room until I know she is recovering, or…” His voice failed him. He could not say the word in conjunction with Emily. Instead he met the doctor’s rheumy gaze with one of steadfast determination.

“So be it, but this will not be pleasant, my lord. You were witness to little of what the men suffered with this. Cholera is an ugly disease. Humiliating for the patient and noisome for the caretaker. I hope you have a strong constitution.”

Nick vowed he would have. He’d do whatever it took, bear whatever he must, to help make her well again.

When he reentered, Emily had pushed herself to a sitting position. She was carefully lowering her legs off the side of the bed. Nick grabbed her just in time to keep her from pitching forward on her head. “Where do you think you’re going?” he snapped.

She winced at his tone and he was immediately sorry he’d spoken so sharply to her. “What is it, Em? What do you need?”

“I would as soon not say,” she whispered. “Could you leave me alone for a moment, please?”

“Nonsense! You need the chamber pot, then say so. I will carry you.”

“No!” she answered, very forcefully he thought, for someone who might be dying. “Please leave this room immediately and do not return unless I call for you!”

For a moment he simply stared at her. Her color was high and her anger apparent. “Let me help you behind the screen. Then I’ll wait outside. Will that do? Look how shaky you are. You’ll fall if I leave you to walk that far.”

“It’s the laudanum,” she explained as if speaking to a thick-headed child. “It made me dizzy. I hate the stuff.”

He walked her over to the privacy screen that hid the facility. It was a chair made of oak with a seat that lifted. At least she would have something to brace her upright. With much trepidation, he did leave her there as soon as she was near enough to reach it. She glared at him meaningfully until he turned away and left her alone.

A scant few moments later she reappeared, grasping the edge of the heavy wooden screen with both hands. “Nick?”

He rushed to her from the doorway where he’d been waiting. “Yes, dearest? Could you not manage alone?”

She tried unsuccessfully to focus on his face. “I see two of the bed. Help me to it?”

Gladly he scooped her up and put her back where she belonged, reminding himself to order Lofton to bring a bedpan. Less than a quarter hour into this sickroom business and Nick admitted he was already a sorry wreck.

Doc checked Emily’s pulse, pinched the skin on her arm, then urged her to drink a full cup of the broth Lofton had fetched. He waved Nick to the chair beside the fireplace. “You might as well get some rest while you can. This looks to be a long night ahead.”

Nick settled in the chair, rested his elbows on his knees and clasped his hands, leaning his forehead upon them.

Alternately he prayed, cursed, promised and threatened all manner of things. He both vehemently beseeched and ordered the Almighty to allow her to survive, knowing all the while that what would be, would be.

Nicholas had been in dire straits more times than he could count, but never in his entire life had he ever felt so helpless as he did now.




Chapter Five


“Nicholas?” Emily shook his shoulder gently. He remained sound asleep, sprawled in the overstuffed chair beside the hearth, long legs straight out, spine contoured to fit the cushions.

His fine wedding clothes were rumpled and she could see that he had not shaved. When he did not wake, she dared to smooth the tousled dark hair away from his brow, allowing herself the small contact he would never know about.

When she had first opened her eyes this morning, she immediately recalled how Nick and the doctor had hovered over her, concerned that she had contracted the disease everyone so feared.

They had frightened her, as well, with their worry. Still muzzy from all that weeping, with her head aching and her stomach clenching from lack of food, she had thought they might be correct and that she could be dying. However, now she felt entirely too well to be suffering anything other than the residual effects of that dose of laudanum.

“Nick, wake up. You cannot possibly be comfortable here,” she persisted, shaking him again.

He suddenly bolted upright, wearing a look of confusion. Then his gaze landed on her. “What…what are you doing up?”

Before she could respond, he swept her off her feet, carried her to the bed and deposited her there. He snatched the covers up to her chin and reached for the cup on the bedside table.

Ignoring her sputtering protests, he put the container to her lips. She had to either drink or drown, so she drank. In all honesty, she treasured the fact that he cared whether she was ill.





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