Her Reluctant Groom (31 page)

A cracking sound rent the air. Marcus casually released the armrest he’d just inadvertently broken and put his hands on his knees, never opening his eyes or tearing his thoughts away from Emma and the realization he was losing her forever.

“
There’s still time,” Alex said quietly.

Twisting his lips, Marcus lowered his head and met his friend’s gaze. “No, there’s not. There never was. It’s for the best she marry another.”

“
But that’s not what you want, now is it?”

Marcus laughed bitterly. “No. It’s not. But it’s what’s best for her.”

“
Are you sure about that?”

Pushing away from his desk, Marcus stood up and walked to the closest window. Emma wouldn’t be happy here. She’d be lonely with only him as company. Even that was conditional. She needed a gentleman who’d race with her on Rotten Row or take her to London for the Season. The same gentleman could provide her with the kind of home young ladies dreamed about. The kind full of love and laughter, friends and family, nieces and nephews, and most of all children of her own.

He made a fist and slammed the side of it against the windowpane. As much as he’d like to blame this unhappy circumstance on Louise, he couldn’t. It had been his decision to run after her for the sake of his pride. Unfortunately, that one ill-made decision not only hadn’t saved his pride then, but it had also cost him dearly. He’d lost the friends he’d had at Eton, he’d lost his intended (which, in and of itself, was actually for the best), he’d lost his pride, but worst of all, in the end he’d lost the only woman he’d ever loved.

“
I’m sure,” he croaked. “She’ll be happier this way.”

Alex snorted. “I think she’d argue that.”

“
She’d argue with Lucifer himself if she thought he’d bother to listen to her.”

“
You truly mean to let her go, then?”

Nodding his head, but not moving his eyes from where they were fixed on the tree just outside his window, Marcus whispered, “Yes.”

“
All right. How do you think I should handle everything?”

“
Everything?”

“
Yes, everything,” Alex said stiffly. “You seem to have appointed me as her sponsor, but I have no idea what you’re expecting of me. Do you want me to contact the duke and duchess and let them help her make the announcement and wedding arrangements?”

“
No,” Marcus barked in annoyance and frustration. He didn’t want Louise or Hampton within a half-mile radius of Emma, let alone planning her wedding. He sighed. He really had no choice. Louise was her sister and Hampton her only living male relative. She couldn’t plan a wedding without them. And as much as it pained him to even think it, Hampton would be the one to walk her down the aisle. Fury pumped through him at the mere thought of that reprobate touching her. He blew out a breath. “Do not tell them. They may find out by reading the announcement in the newspaper.”

Alex nodded. “What of her dowry?”

Marcus raked his hand through his hair before tightening his fingers around the locks and pulling them. Hard. He’d nearly forgotten her dowry. He’d wanted her to make a good match so he’d set up an impressive dowry. He didn’t mind parting with the money—that wasn’t the problem. He’d pay every last shilling he had and then some to see to Emma’s happiness. What he didn’t like was the fact he would have to sit across the table from the man who’d get to claim her as his wife while Marcus not only signed over a small fortune, but his own happiness right along with it.

“
Perhaps I can have Abrams arrange for separate signings,” Alex suggested after a minute, as if by some not-so-small miracle he’d miraculously been cured of his obtuseness and was able to distinguish the subtle undertones of the conversation.

Clearing his throat, Marcus nodded slowly. “I’d appreciate it if you could arrange that.” He pulled away from the window and flopped carelessly down in his chair. “Arrange it so I can sign first, please,” he added as an afterthought. It was bad enough he was losing Emma to another man; it was best he didn’t know exactly whom he’d lost her to. Not that it would be possible to live out the rest of his life not knowing, of course. But that was one advantage to being a recluse. It would be a long, long time before the news of who her husband was reached his ears. Hopefully by then, he’d be indifferent when he heard the announcement. He nearly snorted. He’d never be indifferent, and he knew it. But at least he’d have a little longer to prepare himself for the news.

“
I’ll see what I can do,” Alex said. He leaned forward and reached his hand across Marcus’ desk. “Say, these are nice. Wherever did a recluse like you find—”

“
Don’t touch them,” Marcus barked, knocking Alex’s hand away from the little dish that held a set of silver cufflinks. He’d found them in the drawing room a few days after he’d sent Emma away. It had been nearly a week after she’d gone away before he had been able to go into that room again. And then it had only been because he needed a cushion to prop his leg up on. When he’d stepped inside the room, his eyes had immediately caught on two little pieces of sparkling silver lying on the rug. Since then, he’d not gone back into that room but had kept the set of cufflinks in a dish on his desk as a reminder of what would never be. Because he wasn’t suffering enough already, of course.

Alex shrugged. “I just thought they looked rather dapper. Especially for someone who thinks going to town means a ride to the village once a year to search for some pathetic looking feathers and fur because he’s too lazy to either go gather the material himself or go to London and have a look about.”

“
Emma left them,” Marcus informed him curtly, ignoring Alex’s other senseless remarks.

Making a big show of removing his spectacles and cleaning them, Alex mused, “Now, I wonder why she’d leave a perfectly good set of cufflinks with
you
when she could have saved them and given them to her new husband on their wedding day?”

“
Because they have my initials on them, you dolt,” Marcus said gruffly. Since when had Alex become so perceptive or annoying? It must be Caroline rubbing off on him. “Now that we’ve discussed everything, perhaps you should go.”

“
I’m in no hurry.” Alex stretched his feet out in front of himself.

Marcus nearly groaned in aggravation. Just his luck, Lord Perceptive was gone and the usual Alex had once again taken his place. “Alex, why are you still here? Go home. Go kiss Caroline and hold your son.”

A slow smile spread across Alex’s lips. “Marcus, old chap, that is exactly what I’d love to be doing. I want nothing more than to walk through the doors of my house and feel Caroline’s arms wrap around me, and I’d wager you’d like to come with me and feel Emma’s close around you, too. But it seems I haven’t convinced you to put aside your stubborn pride. Therefore, I cannot go home yet.”

“
Why not?” Marcus growled, fury bubbling inside him.

“
I just told you. I cannot go home until you’re with me.”

Marcus clenched his fists and ground his teeth. “Did Caroline put you up to this? Did she threaten to refuse you entrance to her bed until you dragged me to your house?”

A muscle ticked in Alex’s face and he jerked to a standing position with record speed. “Marcus, that is my wife you’re talking about. She may be your cousin, but she is
my
wife. You have no call to talk about her that way. If you do so again we’ll be naming seconds. Clear?”

Marcus blinked at his friend. Alex was never one to get into a temper. He must have touched on a particularly sensitive spot where Alex was concerned. He nodded. “I’ll be sure to watch my tongue around you in the future as long as you do the same.”

Alex tersely nodded his agreement. “I’ll say no more to you about Miss Green. I’ll handle everything from here, starting with announcing her engagement to Sir Wallace next week at Andrew’s ball.”

“
Sir Wallace,” Marcus thundered. “You mean the one who—”

“
The very one.”

Chapter 22

“
What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Marcus shouted, bursting through the door of Patrick’s study, heedless to the fact that the three young girls were playing in the corner.

“
Girls,” Patrick said slowly, piercing Marcus with his cold stare. “Why don’t you go see if Mrs. Jenkins is ready for afternoon tea?”

Marcus crossed his arms and murmured a halfhearted apology as the three girls walked past him. Once little Helena shut the door, his tirade immediately continued. “What have you done? How could you have paired those two together? Emma deserves a chance at a real marriage—”

“
She’ll have a real marriage,” Patrick cut in sharply. “Wallace is a man.”

“
Barely,” Marcus bit off.

Patrick shrugged. “I fail to see the problem. She’ll have what you seem so reluctant to give her.”

“
No, what she’ll have is a cold, loveless marriage without children. I could have given her that.”

“
Then why don’t you?” Patrick’s shrewd eyes searched Marcus’ for the answer he’d never say aloud.

Jerking his gaze away, Marcus angrily shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “That’s not what we’re discussing. We’re discussing your interference. Why did you do that?”

“
I want her to be happy as much as you do,” Patrick admitted. “I didn’t see any other way.”

“
No other way? No other way, you say. So instead of leaving her alone to have a Season and find a suitable husband, you suggest she marry your molly of a cousin!”

“
He’s not a molly.”

“
Isn’t he?” Marcus countered sourly. “Let’s see if I recall correctly what you told me. Oh, yes, it goes something like this: ‘Marcus, can you ask Caroline to entertain my girls for the next two afternoons? I have to make take a quick trip to London to play the sympathetic cousin for Wallace tomorrow when his bride jilts him.’ Bewildered that you knew she was going to stand him up, I inquired as to how you could know she was going to jilt him and why you were going to let him suffer the embarrassment. To which, you replied, ‘She’s not really standing him up. Well, she is. It’s complicated. See, Wallace has always been a little off. His family seems to think he might have…different interests, if you take my meaning.’ Then you cleared your throat about half a dozen times and had a hard time meeting my eyes as you finished by saying, ‘The plan is to have a woman break his heart at the altar and let everyone assume his subsequent devastation made him the way he is.’”

“
You have a surprisingly good memory. You remember more of the situation than I thought you might. However, I need to correct you on one point. Wallace doesn’t have any unusual interests like the one you’re implying. Nor is he a limp lily. At least I don’t think he is.” He shook his head. “The unusual interest he has revolves around his need to incessantly count and other such odd behaviors that I’m not entirely certain of.”

“
Don’t flick your wrist in nonchalance,” Marcus snarled. “That’s the woman I love. I want her to experience every happiness available. Not for her to be trapped with a man who walks around the world thinking everything he sees is a substitute abacus.”

“
Cool your heels. He only does that when he’s nervous.”

“
I don’t care. He’s not good enough for her. Go back and persuade her to cry off.”

“
No,” Patrick said tightly.

“
Why?”

“
I don’t see a reason to interfere.”

Marcus stared at him unblinkingly. He clenched his fists in rage and willed them to stay in his pockets where they belonged. Though punching Patrick might be satisfactory for the moment, it wouldn’t solve the problem. “You interfered before. Do it again.”

“
No.”

“
Why not?” Marcus demanded angrily. “She’ll be miserable.”

Patrick shrugged. “You’re likely right. But she’ll be less miserable with him.”

“
Than with who?”

“
Just about anyone else.”

Closing his eyes, Marcus leaned his head back and took deep breaths, silently counting in his head. He got to fifteen and snapped his eyes open, no less angry than he was before. “Patrick, you had better pray there is no wedding.”

“
Then you had better act.”

“
No, you’d better do as I suggested and convince her to find another match before the announcement is made.”

Reaching forward to smooth out a wrinkle in one of the pages in his account ledger, Patrick casually said, “She’ll have to cry off on her own. And you’ll have to be the one to give her a reason to do so.”

Marcus closed his eyes and, as usual, an image of Emma flashed before him. This particular image was what she’d looked like wearing her chemise in the river right after she’d flung mud at his face. The smile on her face was so bright and full of joy. He squeezed his eyes tighter, willing the picture to evaporate. Would he forever be tortured with images of her whenever he closed his eyes?

“
Just go to her Marcus,” Patrick said softly.

“
I can’t.”

“
Yes, you can,” Patrick countered. “Whatever foolish thing you’ve done, she’ll forgive. She loves you. She always has. Just go to her before it’s too late.”

Sadly, Marcus shook his head. “Are you sure your cousin Wallace is…er…able?”