Elizabeth Meyette (37 page)

She took a deep breath. Would it work? She wanted to squeeze her eyes shut and cross her fingers for good luck. Instead, she maintained her composure though it took all of her strength.

Jonathon continued to look at her with that amused expression. He took another drink of his brandy and, putting down his empty glass he eyed hers and looked at her inquiringly. Emily lifted her glass to her lips and sipped again. It seared her throat and brought tears to her eyes once more. She could not speak for a moment, and when she finally took a breath, the fire returned. She cleared her throat and felt warmth infuse her. Her cheeks felt flushed and her breath came in short gasps. Finally, she spoke.

“Well, Captain Brentwood, do you not agree that this is a simple solution for all of us?” The room seemed very warm.

“Miss Wentworth, I can see that you are a very sensible, as well as capable, young woman …”

Emily’s spirits soared.

“… and you are correct when you say that your father thought of you as younger. Why, he would call you ‘Little Em’ and tell me of how you sat in his lap and begged for stories. Or how you would tease the cook into an extra helping of dessert, and how, on a hot summer’s day, you would totter across the lawn with just your … ah, well, suffice it to say I was expecting someone much younger.”

Emily was blushing furiously at his last reference to her childhood. She avoided his gaze. She had to convince this man that she was mature and responsible enough to be on her own. Goodness, the room felt warm, and it seemed to be tilting a bit. Not thinking, Emily reached for the last of her brandy. Again her throat burned as the fiery liquid made its way down. Finally, she spoke.

“Well, as you can see, Captain, Father was mistaken. I am quite capable of looking after Andrew and myself.”

“Yes, I can see that. In fact, you are quite a lovely young woman.” Jonathon leaned back against the settee, casually resting one arm behind Emily. He saw through her charade and could not help teasing her for she was so serious. “I imagine you have captured the hearts of all the young men in London. How many suitors have lined up at the door asking for your hand and whispered their undying love in your delicate ear, promising ever to be true?” He had leaned forward and his breath touched her hair, his eyes held hers. His voice was soft and silken as his arm encircled her shoulders. Emily sat gazing at his warm, brown eyes, captivated. The room was warm, and the firelight flickered on their faces.

Suddenly Emily caught herself and sprang from the settee, her head swimming, desperately needing some air.

“It is a beautiful evening, Captain Brentwood. Shall we step out onto the terrace?” she asked trying to steady her trembling. It did not help that the room seemed to be moving, too.

The half-moon perched on a treetop, and the stars sprinkled across the ebony sky. They walked silently out to the garden, the smoky smell of well-stoked fires filling the crisp air. Emily felt a little steadier. They sat on a bench beneath a tall oak.

“May I speak frankly, Captain?”

“By all means, Miss Wentworth,” Jonathon smiled.

“I do not want to go to Virginia with you any more than you want to be burdened with me. I fully intend to stay here with my brother. Father’s intentions were good, but he was wrong to do this to either of us, and I believe you see the sense in this, too.” Emily folded her hands in her lap as if to end the discussion.

“Miss Wentworth, may I also speak frankly?”

“Of course,” Emily nodded.

“In the carriage on the way over here, I would have given anything to be rid of this responsibility. But now, having met you, Miss Wentworth, I am not so sure I want to be relieved of my duty. I was expecting a young child. Instead, I find a beautiful young woman who has made it perfectly clear that she does not need me. Yet I find that this is just what I want — for her to need me.” Emily could feel her embarrassed blush start at his words. “No, I do not think I will be remiss in my duty. In fact, I am sworn to my promise even more having met you. How can I desert this fair damsel in distress? Why, it is my opportunity to be a knight in shining armor come to rescue a fair maiden.” He leaned forward taking her hand. “Is it possible, my lady, that out of many I might claim your heart?” His voice was low; his eyes sparkled. “Oh, but one kiss from your sweet, gentle lips to carry with me forever would be so kind.”

Emily felt a new rush of warmth course through her that had nothing to do with the brandy. She knew he was teasing her, yet she tingled with excitement. Just the thought of his soft lips against hers, being held in his strong arms … what was she thinking? She stood quickly.

“I fear you mock me, sir, when all I desire is to settle our lives so we can each go our separate ways. Please just agree with me that this solution would be best and we shall be finished with it.”

“I do not mock you, Emily,” Jonathon spoke softly, “but even if I wanted to, which I do not, I could not agree to your plan.”

“Why ever not?” she cried near tears.

“Because your father’s will states that I hold everything in trust for you until you marry. Or, if you do not marry, until you reach age twenty-one. I am afraid you cannot be on your own until such time.”

Emily’s face went white. Tears welled in her eyes, and she turned quickly so he could not see them. It would not do to cry. Not here, not now. Her mind raced. She would be packed off to the colonies, and she was helpless to stop it. What could she do?

“Then I shall marry.” She had not realized that she had spoken aloud. Michael Dennings had called quite frequently lately. She was sure he would propose soon. Of course, now he would have to wait until Emily was out of mourning. “That is what I shall do.”

Jonathon cleared his throat. “There is one more thing. I must approve the marriage.”

“You what?” she shouted. “Do you think, sir, to take my father’s place? How dare you come here and tell me what I can and cannot do? Whom I may or may not marry? Who gives you the right?” She shook with rage. Her upswept hair was coming loose; tendrils tumbled and framed her face and shuddered with her anger.

“Your father, Emily.”

Emily stared at him, her mouth half open.

“Father?”

“Yes, it is in his will also. Your father loved you very much, Emily. He made it very clear that I was to watch over you and Andrew. You both were so dear to him. I promised that I would take the best possible care of you. George was one of my closest friends; my promise to him means a great deal to me,” he said gently.

The loneliness Emily had felt for the past month flooded over her again. Tears stung her eyes and a dull ache settled in the pit of her stomach.

“Excuse me, Captain Brentwood, I am not feeling well. Good night.” She swept past him. Jonathon heard her choke back a sob as she ran back in through the terrace doors. He stood there for a moment staring after her, confused. What should he do with this woman-child?

• • •

Emily peered thoughtfully over her teacup at Michael Dennings as he spoke to her. Many of the matrons in the social circles had already paired them and awaited an impending engagement this season. Michael’s sandy-colored hair matched his eyes. Emily had never noticed his eyes before, and if someone had asked her their color, she would have been at a loss to answer. She did remember, however, the soft brown eyes that had warmly perused her during Captain Brentwood’s visit.

She must stop comparing them. But she knew that would be difficult, for that was all she had done since Michael had arrived for tea. Of average height, he was shorter than Captain Brentwood, and not nearly so broad in the shoulders. He wore a tan longcoat over a tan vest and matching breeches. So close were they to the color of his hair and eyes that Michael just seemed to run together, nothing distinctive, and a passing stranger would take no notice of him.

Emily had known Michael for years, and, though he was amiable enough, rack her brain as she would, she could not think of a single extraordinary thing he had ever said or done. That was Michael, ordinary and predictable, but a good, safe husband who could keep her in England. And that, thought Emily, is what I need to make him see.

“Do you not agree, Emily?” Michael repeated.

“What? I am sorry, Michael, what did you say?” Emily smiled prettily, and Michael was appeased.

“I said it is dreadful what is occurring in the colonies. Why, they are close to open rebellion!” he answered.

“And I am sailing right into it,” Emily murmured.

“I do not like the thought of your traveling over there, Emily. In fact, Mother and I were discussing it just last night. She said it is not proper for a girl of your delicacy and upbringing to be thrust into a savage land. She said it is scandalous for a genteel young lady to go off across the ocean, unescorted, with some sea captain. She said it is a shame you have not been betrothed by now, and if you were not so opinionated, that is …”

Emily ignored the last remark. She had heard it whispered before. She was more educated than was usual for a young lady of her station; consequently, no man wanted a wife who might have ideas and opinions of her own — not to mention a wife who might be smarter than her husband. She attributed this gossip to jealous girls whose mothers would not allow their education to progress any further than French knots and curtsies.

“Michael, Captain Brentwood is my guardian, so I am properly escorted. Andrew will be with me also. And the colonies are not a savage land anymore. Why, there are large towns such as Boston and Philadelphia, and ships arrive from England frequently. I will not be shut off from the world in some remote and distant land.”

What was she saying? This was not at all what she had planned. Why did she suddenly feel defensive about a land she had no desire to see?

“Well, as far as Captain Brentwood is concerned, Mother says he has a reputation with women. She says that having you on his ship is as good as …”

“Captain Brentwood has been a perfect gentleman in my presence,” Emily snapped. Her cheeks flushed as she recalled his silken voice in the garden and the feel of his strong, firm arm around her shoulders. Michael misread her blush for anger, which was partly true.

“Do not be angry, Emily. I just do not want to see your reputation sullied.”

“It is good of you to be so concerned,” she retorted.

What was wrong with her? She was ruining her opportunity to stay in England. Yet, as she studied Michael, doubt slowly spread through her. She imagined passing the years as his wife. It would be safe and comfortable, but certainly not exciting. They would live in London and have children. And Mother Dennings would visit on Sundays and expound on her pet theories. Or worse, perhaps she would live
with
them and subject them to daily sermons. And the years would run together, much as Michael’s appearance.

Michael had been speaking again, and his last sentence brought Emily back with a start.

“Emily, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” He was on one knee in front of her.

“Am I interrupting anything?” Jonathon’s clear baritone rang through the room causing Michael to jump to his feet, and startling Emily as much as Michael’s proposal had.

“Captain Brentwood,” Emily breathed feeling strangely relieved, “do come in.”

Michael shot Emily a bemused look. Jonathon strode in and seated himself on the settee beside her. His eyes sparkled when he looked at her, and he took her hand in his own and patted it in a fatherly gesture. She slipped it away.

“Captain Brentwood, may I present Michael Dennings. Michael, this is Captain Jonathon Brentwood.” Emily glanced at Michael noting his sour expression. Jonathon extended his hand, which Michael reluctantly shook. The two men sized each other up.

“Well, Captain Brentwood, when do you plan to set sail for Virginia?” Michael finally asked.

“I have some legal matters to which I must attend, and some supplies to order and load. I imagine
we
shall set sail in a fortnight,” he stressed the word “we” while looking at Emily. Unable to meet the gaze of either man, she looked down at her hands folded in her lap.

Michael shifted uncomfortably wondering why Emily had invited Captain Brentwood in at such an inopportune moment.

“I imagine you are anxious to get home to see your family and … uh … dear ones.” Michael emphasized the latter cynically.

Jonathon leaned back casually stretching long, lean legs out in front of him.

“Yes, I am anxious to see my sister and her husband. As for the rest of my family, they will be with me on the ship.”

Michael glowered at him.

“I think not, Captain Brentwood. I have just asked Emily for her hand in marriage. She will remain in England, where she belongs.” He breathed the last decisively.

“No, Michael,” Emily whispered. If she had shouted it, the impact could not have been greater. Michael’s head whipped sharply back to her; his mouth gaped open. Jonathon searched her eyes. “You are a dear friend, Michael,” she continued, “but it would be wrong for both of us if we were to marry.”

Michael rose in bewilderment. He looked from one to the other.

“You are responsible for this,” he shouted at Jonathon’s composed face. He turned to her, “Emily, please reconsider.”

“No, Michael. I am sorry,” she spoke gently.

Michael shot a baleful glare at Jonathon, then turned on his heel and left. Jonathon looked down at Emily, but she could not meet his gaze. Her head was whirling with the events of the last few minutes. Michael had offered her exactly what she wanted, a chance to remain in England, but she knew it was not right for her. The idea of sailing into an unknown life with the man seated next to her was, somehow, appealing.

“It is just as well,” Jonathon teased. “I would not have approved the engagement in any event.”

“You arrogant cad,” Emily seethed. “How dare you assume what you can and cannot do concerning any matters in my personal life?”

“But you forget, Emily, I am your guardian. Your safety, your health, your happiness are all a precious burden that I will happily carry.”