The Counterfeit Betrothal (11 page)

“Let me go or I’ll scream!” Emmaline whispered, now very pale.

His face only a few inches away from hers, Jeremy laughed. “Scream? And have the servants come running to witness your position? I think not, my dear.”

In despair, Emmaline knew he was right and she once more tried to twist free. Jeremy merely pulled sharply on her hair and Emmaline knew she was still caught. Once more he lowered his lips to hers, this time more slowly and more
gently
. Insistently they played at hers until, helplessly, she swayed toward him and her lips parted, a wave of longing threatening to drown her. No longer did she try to protest the hand that played so deliciously with the nipples of her breasts, nor did she even notice when the hand left her hair to find its way down her back and press her hips against his. So lost was she to all common sense that her eyes were still closed when he thrust her from him and Emmaline did not at once realize what he was about.

For a moment she swayed, then, startled, opened her eyes. Jeremy, she saw, was once more leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, eyes hooded. There was no trace of discomposure in his voice, she thought bitterly, as he said, “That, my dear Emmaline, is how one treats a doxy and I will thank you not to say that what I do with Miss Kirkwood is in any way the same.”

Trembling slightly, Emmaline turned her back on him, struggling to regain her own composure. “No?” she flung over her shoulder. “If you have treated me this way, how can I know you will not treat Rosalind the same?”

Jeremy laughed softly before he replied. “But my dear Emmaline, I am not yet betrothed to her as I am to you. I realize I am regarded as something of a rake but even I must draw the line somewhere.”

Then, somehow, treacherously, he was at her shoulder, his hands upon her waist and his lips brushing the nape of her neck as he went on, teasingly, “Besides, Emmaline, I scarcely imagine Rosalind would respond to me as you have done, encouraging me to go so far with her. You really must learn to restrain this wayward nature of yours before it lands you in the briars.” One hand reached upward absentmindedly to stroke her trembling shoulder as he added, maddeningly, “Unless, of course, it is just me that you respond to and you wish to resume our betrothal after all? I am sure I could procure a special license; we would not even need to wait the three weeks while the banns were read. What do you say, my love?”

Furious, her eyes full of tears, Emmaline once more pulled free of him, hating the aching desire for his touch that still coursed through her. Beyond caring, she hurled angry words at Jeremy. “Don’t ever touch me again! I know very well how you hate me and I wouldn’t marry you if you were the only man in England! Indeed, I am quite resolved upon spinsterhood. It would be far preferable to marriage to a man who likes nothing better than to torment me as you do!”

Then, blindly, she fled the room, not seeing the look of dismay that came to his face or the way he would have followed her had the appearance of a footman in the hallway not forestalled him. Nor did she know how, cursing himself for a fool, Jeremy fled the Hastings household not five minutes later, leaving a bemused Edward and Rosalind to entertain one another.

14

EMMALINE spent a good many hours trying to decide how she could face Jeremy when next she saw him. She need not have fretted for he did not visit again for several days. Aware that something had gone wrong, Mrs. Hastings discreetly tried to question her young houseguest but was met by silence. Only with Edward did Emmaline appear to feel at ease, a circumstance that did not escape his mother.

At any rate, when Jeremy did appear, not by the slightest gesture or word did he betray any recollection of what had last occurred between them. Indeed, when he arrived to escort Emmaline to the theater, his first words after he greeted her were, “You are certain Miss Kirkwood knows we are to meet her there?”

“Yes, of course. Edward has already gone to collect her,” Emmaline replied with creditable composure.

Only then did he pause, inspect her coolly, and say with maddening calm, “You look a trifle peaked. Have you been getting sufficient rest, Miss Delwyn?”

As Emmaline choked, Mrs. Hastings said tartly, “That is none of your affair, since I gather you do not really intend to marry her. I do suggest, however, that tonight you contrive to appear to pay some mind to your
fiancée
, Barnett, otherwise everyone will be saying that it is your neglect that has caused Emmaline to be out of looks.”

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed speculatively a moment before he nodded. Disingenuously he said, “What an excellent notion, Mrs. Hastings. My dear,
are
you fatigued? Should you prefer that we forgo the theater and let you rest?”

Emmaline pulled free the hand Jeremy had taken hold of as he spoke. “There are no interested eyes to impress here. And I am quite all right!” she said from between clenched teeth. “But as I do not wish to be late, may we be off?”

“Of course, my pet,” Jeremy said soothingly, “just as soon as Mrs. Hastings is ready, You would not like to be so rude as to rush her, surely.”

At that Mrs. Hastings laughed outright. “Careful, my boy, or you may find yourself in the briars.”

In mock astonishment Jeremy said, “Nonsense! You cannot mean you think my
fiancée
has a temper?”

Emmaline closed her eyes and fought for calm. When she opened them, she saw that Mrs. Hastings was ready and the footman was already holding open the door. Solicitously Jeremy said, “Come Emmaline, we must hurry. You said so yourself.” Then, compellingly, he held out a hand to take hers. Emmaline wanted to ignore it, to sail past him with head held high. But she did not. “Very well, I am ready,” she said quietly, allowing him to guide her out the door and down the steps.

In the carriage she could not resist challenging him. “Perhaps you ought to ignore me tonight, Jeremy. Let the
ton
think we are beginning to tire of one another.”

A gleam of mischief lit Jeremy’s eyes from where he sat opposite her. “But my dear Emmaline, you forget how peaked you look. While I might allow that it would be a good notion to let the
ton
believe we are not suited, I have no wish to figure as an ogre in their eyes. As I surely should if it appeared that I was the cause of your sleepless nights.” He paused, then added deliberately, “Am I, my love?”

“Don’t be absurd!” Emmaline retorted angrily. It did not escape him, however, that she caught her lower lip between her teeth as she turned away. With a grim smile of satisfaction he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the seat. Emmaline might not yet wish to marry him, but neither was she indifferent.

It was Mrs. Hastings who broke the silence by asking if Emmaline had told Jeremy about her father’s latest letter. “But of course not,” she answered her own question with a self-conscious laugh. “You have not yet had the chance.”

Instantly Jeremy was all attention. “Your father? Is he worse? Do you need to go to him?”

He could not read the expressions that crossed her face so quickly before she said, “Why, no. Quite the opposite, in fact. I—I have not known my father to write a letter in his own hand since before his illness. He had always to dictate it to me or your father. But now he writes and tells me he is much better and I cannot doubt it.”

Jeremy had been seated beside Mrs. Hastings and opposite Emmaline, but now he moved to sit beside his
fiancée
. He took her trembling hand in his and asked gently, “What is it, my love? What is troubling you?”

Emmaline snatched away her hand as though it had been burned and hid it in the folds of her skirt. Her eyes blazing with anger, she said, “Don’t roast me, Jeremy! In public you may play the role of attentive lover as much as you choose, but there is no need to do so here.”

Biting back the sharp retort that came to his lips, Jeremy merely shrugged and said, “Very well, as you wish. But I should like to know what is troubling you. After all, I do care about your father, too, whatever our own differences may be.”

Emmaline did not miss the edge of pain in Jeremy’s voice and timidly she placed a hand on his arm. “Forgive me,” she said quietly. “I am grateful for the affection you and my father have shared. As for why I am troubled, I—cannot say. I know I should be filled with delight but I am not. Instead I am afraid. Afraid that somehow my father is pushing himself beyond what is wise because I am not there to stop him.”

“That is his own choice to make,” Jeremy reminded her kindly and, after a moment’s hesitation, placed a hand over hers.

This time she did not draw away. Instead, a trifle ruefully she said, “I know it. But I have grown so used, you see, to taking care of him that I can scarcely bring myself to trust anyone else to do the job properly.”

The words were spoken lightly but Jeremy did not miss the tremor she could not entirely hide. Tilting up her chin, he asked, “What is it? You had best tell me, you know, for I shall not give you any peace until you do.”

Emmaline laughed shakily. “I had forgotten how well you always seemed to read my mind when I was a child. Very well. You will think me absurd, no doubt, but
I
know that you mean what you say. Jeremy, I cannot help but wonder if my father would have done better had I not been there these past years. If he can so quickly progress to writing in his own hand when I am gone scarcely a month, what might he have done in the past three years?”

Jeremy did not turn from the steadiness of her eyes as he replied, “Without you he might well have died. You know that he loved your mother very much and I imagine that after she died he had very little will to live. You gave him a reason to keep on. I’ve no doubt of that. And if, in the past year or two, he had come to accept too easily his illness and not try harder to recover, well no one could have foreseen that. Perhaps it is the knowledge that you are to be wed at last that has made the difference, and not someone else’s care.”

“Perhaps,” she mused. “My father did write that he soon hopes to hear marriage vows spoken.” Lowering her eyes, she added quietly, “But I am not, after all, to be wed, am I?”

“Would you like to be, my little termagant?” Jeremy asked softly, amusement in his voice. “I thought you had resolved upon spinsterhood?”

“
Spinsterhood?”
Mrs. Hastings was aghast. “Nothing of the sort, my dear! Pray promise me you have not begun to turn eccentric? Spinsterhood. You have no notion, Emmaline, what that must mean to a woman. Either depending upon the charity of relatives and the necessity to play servant to their needs or, if one is fortunate enough to possess a source of funds, being the butt of gossip about what dire attribute caused that horrid fate. Even at fifty you would find yourself hedged about with conventions you could not bear, for age alone does not release an unmarried woman from the need to play propriety.”

Emmaline cast a withering look at Jeremy before turning to placate Mrs. Hastings. “I spoke in anger and well Mr. Barnett knew it. I am neither a feather-wit nor so naive as to believe that the lot of a spinster is an enviable one.” Then in a calmer voice she said to Jeremy, “Yes, I should like to be wed. For many reasons, one of which is that I should like to make my father happy. But not at the expense of a lifetime of misery for myself.”

Emmaline’s eyes challenged him to laugh at her, but Jeremy merely continued to regard her calmly. “May I ask,” he said meekly, “what qualities you believe would satisfy you in a man?” Emmaline looked at him suspiciously and would not answer. After a moment he suggested helpfully, “You would like him to be handsome, of course. And possessed of a fortune so that you need not want for anything. He ought to obey your every command and worship the very ground you walk upon. Am I not right?”

“On the contrary, you are quite absurd,” she retorted angrily. Swallowing hard, she looked away from him.

Ever persistent, Jeremy once more took her hand in his and said sof
tly,
“Very well, then tell me what it is you seek.”

Emmaline closed her eyes for a moment, then turned back to face him, tilting up her chin. “I should like to marry a man who cares about the same things I do. Someone who will share the troubled times with me as well as the good. And I wish to marry someone I love. But that is something you could not understand, I am sure.”

“Love?” There was a note of triumph to Jeremy’s voice. One Emmaline had not heard before as he went on smoothly, “And you fancy yourself in love with someone, do you?”

Panic seized Emmaline. Mrs. Hastings leaped to her rescue. In a derisive voice she told Jeremy, “You need not be thinking, Barnett, that she means you. I’ve no doubt there are any number of far more eligible, far more obliging gentlemen in London than you.”

Jeremy regarded Emmaline warily and she hastily looked away. Instinct told her not to lie to him and yet she could not bring herself to contradict Mrs. Hastings. Perhaps that lady did indeed know what was best, and in any event, Emmaline found she had no wish for her deepest feelings to be bared to Jeremy when he was in a mood such as this. “You’ve fallen in love with someone here in London?” he demanded harshly.

Emmaline nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

“And does he love you?” Jeremy persisted coolly.

“I—I have no reason to think so,” she whispered in reply.

“And yet you still wish to marry him?” Jeremy demanded mockingly. “Are you sure your love is not simply an illusion?”

“If it is, then it is a remarkably sound illusion,” Emmaline retorted tartly.

Jeremy shrugged irritably. “A fortune hunter, no doubt. And I suppose you would marry him if he asked, even knowing he does not love you? I tell you frankly, you are a fool if you do. I have seen too many such marriages to believe they can ever work.”

Anger had straightened her spine and Emmaline no longer doubted the wisdom of her course. It was with a grim smile that she replied, “So too have I, and it is the one reason I am not yet at the altar.”

“Is it?” Jeremy laughed harshly. “You forget, there is another. We are still officially betrothed, my love, and you would need my agreement to send a notice to the papers breaking it off. And I tell you now I will not do so in order for you to marry some fellow I do not know. My sense of responsibility toward you is far too great to allow it.”

Grimly Emmaline replied, “You already know him.”

The same thought occurred to both Mrs. Hastings and Jeremy. Their eyes meeting by accident, the two hastily looked away. Mrs. Hastings had forgotten that she herself had started the falsehood. Instead it was the thought of her son that leaped to mind. This time it was Jeremy who carefully looked toward the window of the carriage. “I see,” he said roughly. “It seems you still have the power to surprise me, Emmaline. I had not thought love grew so quickly.”

“I have heard it said that love can spring up, full blown, in a moment,” her voice replied steadily.

“And if he marries someone else?” Jeremy asked.

“Then I suppose I shall nurse a broken heart.”

“Even if he is not worth it?” Jeremy demanded roughly.

He had turned to face her again and Emmaline met his eyes steadily. “Who is to say whether or not he is worth it?”

She might have added more had Mrs. Hastings’ voice not then intruded. “Children,” she said with some asperity, “we have arrived. And unless you wish to make us conspicuous by your conversation, I suggest you put the matter aside until another time.”

The coachman opened the door as Mrs. Hastings spoke, and they were soon all inside the theater. In spite of Emmaline’s fears, they were not late but neither were they so early that they could afford to dawdle on the way to the Hastings box.

“I do hope Edward and Miss Kirkwood and her mother have already arrived,” Mrs. Hastings said, fanning herself furiously.

Something must be done about her son and Miss Delwyn, she vowed, but at the moment she could not see just what.