The Dream (11 page)

A knock sounded on his door. “Come in.” He straightened and stood.

Summerton, his butler here in Town, said, “Lord
Hardlow
.”

“Thank you, Summerton. See that we aren’t disturbed.” He crossed the room and slapped his friend on the shoulder. “I was beginning to think our schedules would never meet, Rayne.”

Rayne grinned, a smile, Jason knew, that could either beckon ladies or send grown men fleeing.

“I could say the same of you. Get me a drink will you?” Rayne sat in a chair and sighed. “Women are going to be the death of all mankind, you do realize this don’t you? I’ve decided I’m never marrying. You’ve rubbed off on me.”

Brandy sloshed in the snifters. Jason turned, took a sip of his and handed one to Rayne. He sat in the chair opposite his partner and only said, “Yes, well.”

“I tell you, the fairer sex is nothing but trouble.” Rayne sat up and asked, “Why is it we want to protect them and strangle them all at once?”

The question made him smile. Emily’s face flashed in his mind. Anger at her for running off had worn away into worry. If he just knew where she were. “I do, believe me, understand.” Rayne was a ladies’ man, for those who liked to tempt the panther. “New mistress?” he asked.

“God, no. I don’t have time for the one I do have. Why would I want another? At least
Jeannene
understands me now and no longer whines when I stay late at the office.”

“I haven’t been able to catch you at the shipping office.”

“Yes, I know. Write it off to family,” he said, tension edging his words as he took a long swallow.

“Nothing serious I hope.”

Rayne stood. “Oh, definitely not. Just another scandal.” He paced in front of the windows.

“You and me both, my friend.” Joy would be better for it in the end though. And he was eccentric enough to pull it off and no one stutter too much over it.

“What?” Rayne asked, turning back to him. “Never mind, I came here not to discuss business with you, but to ask a favor.”

Now he was intrigued, if not a bit insulted. “Our families are not only old friends, but joined. My sister is married to your brother, since it seems you’ve forgotten and we’ve more between us than that. You know better than to even ask.”

Rayne ran a hand through his short dark hair as he continued to pace. Jason merely sat, waiting. Rayne was not the most patient of souls—even perfectly still, the man appeared to be moving.

“It seems I have a niece.”

“As I recall you have three.”

Rayne shook his head. “I’m not talking about Annabelle’s daughters.”

“Explain.”

The
Warrings
had one older daughter and two sons. Annabelle had married years ago fresh out of the school room and had her own family. Lord Winterbourne, Douglas Warring, had married Lady Caroline
Claymere
, Jason’s sister.

“I’ve a niece from my oldest sister. Elizabeth.”

Jason frowned. “Elizabeth?”

“She left when we were about eight. Ran off with an utterly unsuitable man. My parents wish to introduce her daughter into society.”

He vaguely remembered the older sister now that he was reminded. Lord, he’d all but forgotten the woman. Red hair like Lady
Redgrave
, and he remembered her hair because he and Rayne had waxed the ends of her braids once upon a time and she’d had to cut the long tresses. She was at least ten years their senior. The memory made him chuckle.

“I don’t see humor in this situation. Mother and Father seem to have forgotten what society can be like. I don’t want Emily cut right off when people remember and—“

“Who?” His heart quickened and he sat straight, waiting. “Who is your niece?”

“Emily.” Rayne waved a hand.

It could not be this easy.

Rayne continued, “Well, actually, she’s a widow. I thought we could put off introducing her because of mourning, but no one would hear of it. And the
Athridge
ball is tonight.”

Emily. He grinned, already, planning, then cleared his throat. “That wouldn’t happen to be a Mrs. Emily Smith would it?”

“And I just don’t believe she’s ready. She’s too bloody innocent. Not of some things I don’t think—something about her eyes. After all she’s one-and-twenty, but—” Rayne halted and turned to Jason. “What? How the blazes do you know her name?”

Jason smiled, and the smile became laughter. He’d found her. About bloody time. And he’d only needed to visit the
Warrings
. Seems he seriously needed to brush upon his social obligation of calling upon one’s friends. Fate was having fun at his expense. “You and I should make it a point to meet at least once a week, my friend.”

“How do
you
know her?”

“Oh, I will get to that.”

Rayne’s dark eyes narrowed. “Do I need to call you out?”

“What is it exactly you want of me?”

“God’s bones! The chit’s been nowhere. How…”

“All in good time.”

Rayne stared at him. “Give your weight in our support of her.”

Jason stood, grinning. “You have it.”

Rayne raised his glass and took a drink.

Jason continued, “On the condition that you give me your support in introducing my own daughter.”

Rayne stumbled, coughed, choked and glared at him. “What?”

“I’ve a daughter, Rayne. Her name is Joy. Remember
Isobelle
?”

“That Portuguese mistress you couldn’t find?”

Jason sighed. “Yes, there does seem to be something of a pattern developing between me and strong-willed women,” he muttered. Emily. “How about I meet this niece of yours? And I’ll introduce you to my daughter?”

“Your daughter? Yes. God’s bones, a daughter.” Confusion still weighed in his friend’s dark eyes. “But I thought you said you knew Emily.”

Jason only smiled and said, “My dear boy, I don’t think anyone really
knows
Emily.”

* * * * *

 
“Emily, pay attention. I can’t believe this,” Rayne grumbled.

She rolled her eyes. Her uncle worried about everything it seemed.

Her grandmother said, “I simply cannot believe this never came up before now. Tonight.”

“My dear, there is no harm done. Calm yourself,” her grandfather said. “Emily is a bright girl. She’ll catch on in no time.”

They’d just realized she had no idea how to dance, and apparently that was what one did at a ball. A ball. The idea still seemed hazy to her, as if it were a dream. The last few weeks here were healing like nothing else in her life had ever been.

Her grandfather insisted on purchasing her a suitable wardrobe. She’d tried to talk him out of it, but her grandmother had informed her that he felt responsible for all the pain in her life and this was a small way for him to make up for it. Put that way, she could hardly refuse.

She’d assumed a dress or two, and was terrified when they went to a
modiste
. The fitting was embarrassing to her. Madam Le
Fontonte
had seen the scars on her back and paused, but there had been no pity in her eyes, only efficiency in her words. All of her gowns had sleeves and high necks, at least at the back. It was almost as if all her gowns had little collars. She had on one now. A burgundy and ivory striped day dress.

The mourning clothes had been packed away. Mary would want her to live her life. There was no way she could even pretend to mourn the loss of Theodore Smith.

“Pierson!” Her grandmother’s sharp voice jerked her back. The footman appeared within moments. “We need you to play the piano while Rayne teaches Emily some of the more basic steps of dancing. Why don’t we try the waltz first, since it is so popular with the younger generation?”

Pierson, a man of talent and many venues, bowed. “My pleasure, my lady.”

“I know how to waltz,” her grandfather said. “I could teach her.”

Victoria patted his arm. “I know you could my dear, but Rayne is more… Well, that is…”

Her grandfather arched a silver brow. “Yes, my dear?”

“Never mind. Rayne can handle it I’m sure.”

Emily didn’t know what to do.

“You wouldn’t be implying that I’m old, would you?” her grandfather asked.

Grandmama
didn’t answer.

Rayne took her arm and steered her to the center of the drawing room. “It’s very easy. A simple one, two, three. One, two, three.” He showed her the steps, and explained how to lead and follow. “And then… Never mind. I have a feeling you’ll just pick up on it. Come. And remember it’s easy. One, two, three.”

The music started, filled the room and the air around, melded with the hint of roses that seemed to pervade every room.

“Now remember, one, two, three. One, two, three. One, two three.”

After several stumbling attempts, she finally caught on. Rayne waltzed her around the room. “It would help if you don’t look down. Try to look at your partner.”

She did as she was told, a smile tugging at her mouth. She was dancing. Dancing!

“You’re doing splendidly, my dear, just splendid,” her grandmother said.

She could feel the music vibrate in the room, the dips and turns that her uncle twirled her to, swayed the notes themselves. Oh, this was wonderful. Simply wonderful. She chuckled.

Her grandfather tapped Rayne on the shoulder. “’
Tis
my turn, you young rake.” And with that, Rayne bowed and her grandfather took his place. “You are going to be the envy of every other woman there tonight, my dear.”

She could feel the heat in her cheeks. “I don’t know about that, Grandpapa.”

One. Two. Three.

“I do.”

And he, like his son, danced her around the room until she was laughing with the sheer joy of it. As the notes shimmered and faded, they stopped and her grandfather bowed to her. “You’re supposed to curtsy to your partner.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Emily performed a perfect curtsy, but then she had been practicing them. A child’s giggles and clapping drew her attention to the rest in the room.

“Is it now my turn?” his deep voice flowed across the room, like the low note piano keys, vibrating the air, those piercing blue eyes pinned her.

The
Marquess
of
Ravensworth
.

Chapter Six

Air stopped in Emily’s lungs and her heart skipped at the sight of
Ravensworth
. He was dressed in buff riding breeches, high glossy boots, his cravat negligently tied, and a dark brown overcoat thrown carelessly over the whole. He should look disheveled, she thought, but he looked…perfect. Which, shaking off the strange sensations, she knew was foolish. He was just a man like any other and the men she’d known, she’d much rather never existed.

“
Ravensworth
.” Her grandfather strode across the room to stand near his wife.

“It’s been too long since we’ve seen you, Jason,” her grandmother said.

Her family knew him?

“I do apologize, ma’am.” He finally took his eyes off of her to look at her grandmother.

“As well you should. Now come give me a proper greeting.”

Emily smiled as Jason dutifully kissed Victoria’s cheek.

“And,”
Grandmama
said, “who have we here?”

Jason looked to Rayne, then to her and finally back to her grandmother. His eyes were still as blue as she remembered. Straight pure blue.

“This,” he started, then cleared his throat. “This is my daughter. Joy.” He held the dark-haired girl in his arms as naturally as many men held their hats. “Joy, say hello to Lord and Lady
Redgrave
and your Uncle Rayne.”

“He-woe.” She smiled shyly before ducking her head back to her father’s shoulder.

Daughter? Where had Joy been when she was staying at
Ravenscrest
Abbey?

“I don’t believe I remember her,” her grandmother said rather pointedly.

Jason grinned ruefully. “No, my lady, I’m quite certain you don’t.”

“Mother, explanations can wait, can they not? I asked Jason to help us out tonight.”

“Oh.” Her grandmother looked from Jason to her and Emily knew there was something in that calculating emerald gaze.

And why did it sound like “tonight” meant her?

“Jason, I’d like to introduce you to our granddaughter, Mrs. Smith, newly arrived to London.”

He smiled at her as he slowly walked across the floor. Her heart pulsed fast and furious, and energy hummed beneath her skin.

“Yes, as a widow, she thought it time to visit her mother’s family. Isn’t that right, dear?” her grandmother asked.

He stopped right in front of her, his daughter still in his arms. His eyes gave nothing away and though there was amusement in his smile, the brackets around his mouth, there was also something else hinting in the corners of his eyes.

“I must say, considering everything, you’re looking somewhat better than the last time I saw you, Emily.”

Emily. For some absurd reason she loved it when he said her name.

“What? What’s this? You
two’ve
met? When? What?” her grandfather asked.

Emily returned
Ravensworth’s
smile and curtsied.

He bowed his head. “Madam. Imagine my surprise upon my return.”

Emily only grinned more at him. Definitely something other than amusement, perhaps irritation. “Oh, I never gave it another thought.” Then she looked at his daughter. “And you are Joy? I don’t remember you either. I’m pleased to meet you, Joy.” The little girl had her thumb in her mouth. Cherub cheeks, dimpled hands and dark hair. Memories flooded through Emily and pain speared her heart.

“Had you but remained, you might,” Jason whispered.

Finally pulling her gaze from the child, she looked back at him. “And how is that?” Then light dawned. “The trip.”

He barely tilted his head.

Her grandmother rang for tea, and Joy was bustled off to the kitchen by Mrs.
Panderly
with the promise of crumpets.

“Your daughter…” Victoria said as she offered seats and sat herself.

It was a slight reminder of wanting to know what was going on.
Ravensworth
filled them in. And Emily realized he must have a long standing with her family to be this forthcoming on such a subject.

An illegitimate child of a missing mistress. He was claiming Joy, and raising her, giving her his name?

Emily licked her lips. What made some men stand against adversity and others bow to the whims of perceived ideals?

“You’re certain of this?” her grandfather asked, his voice nor expression hinting at judgment. “Good God, man, have you thought of the scandal? She’ll never be received.”

Ravensworth
nodded. “I’ve weighed the consequences and feel this is the surest course.”

“Claiming a bastard,” her grandfather muttered. “You could just claim her as a ward. Don’t throw the girl’s future away, man.”

A man like that would not choose the easy road and he would travel his course no matter what. She’d learned how tenacious he was in simple inquiries. With something of this magnitude, he would be even more determined.

“Is
Ravensworth
ever uncertain?” Emily asked, sipping her tea.

“Which brings me back to my earlier question,” her grandfather said, with a narrowed look. “How do you two know each other?”

Jason merely looked at her. He sat correctly in the chair, back straight, no slouch, but he still reminded her of a lounging cat, as though at any moment he could spring from his perch. “Is your shoulder paining you? I trust it’s healed adequately.”

She really wished he had kept that bit to himself. “Indeed.”

“Has a physician seen it recently?”

“Her shoulder?” her grandfather asked.

“Physician?” her grandmother asked.

Rayne cleared his throat. “Yes, the carriage accident that she barely mentioned.” Her uncle’s eyes clearly said what he thought of that without the edge of sarcasm.

“One
might
call it that,” Jason said over the rim of his cup.

Emily sighed. “Well, everything is fine now. There is no need to upset—”

“And what might you call it?” her grandfather interrupted, turning to
Ravensworth
.

“A holdup? Murder? A runaway carriage. Oh, and I almost forgot, being shot.”

“What?” Her grandfather turned quickly to her.

Jason motioned to her with his cup. “Your granddaughter was shot. In the back. I found her half dead on the side of the road near my estate.”

Emily glared at him.

“You never said anything.” Her grandmother admonished. “No wonder you appeared so ill.”

“I’m fine. I was fine then.” Everyone was looking at her. Rayne shook his head. Her grandmother seemed concerned and her grandfather shocked. Jason—
Ravensworth
, was angry. Her stomached greased with an old apprehension. She finally lowered her gaze from his. “Perhaps,” she conceded, “I did rush coming here, but I was anxious to meet my family.”

“Alone,” Jason said.

“Alone,” she repeated.

Her family had questions. Who was it? What exactly had happened? Was she certain she was all right? Why hadn’t she waited for Jason’s escort?

She answered their questions, reassured them and all the while glared at the man across from her, handsome or not.

“Are you satisfied, sir? You’ve managed to upset my grandparents.”

Jason sat forward. “You should be more concerned with the fact you’ve upset me.”

Though a smile lurked at the corner of his mouth, the bladed words cut straight through to an old fear. One she’d thought she was well on the way to putting behind her. A terror she never wanted to rule her life again.

Her fingers hurt from the fist she made, but still she didn’t say a word, didn’t even move.

Jason stood. “I do apologize if I sounded… Well, if I overstepped my bounds, but you never sent word.”

Now he all but towered over her. Taking a deep breath, she looked up into his eyes, knowing he couldn’t hurt her here in her grandparents’ drawing room. But then some part of her knew he probably wouldn’t hurt her anyway.

“I believe I said that when things settled, I would send word.” She too stood, and he was forced to take a step back. There was a small satisfaction in that. “I regret I only finished the correspondence this morning. Would you like me to retrieve the letter for you?”

He blinked, then shook his head. “Again, my apologies. However, considering the circumstances, and not knowing the name of your family, I had no way of ascertaining your safety or wellbeing.”

Put that way, she could see his point. Still, he really had no right to treat her this way. He was not her husband or any relation to her at all.

Emily tilted her head to him, an action, she knew, she’d learned from him. An action that didn’t quite concede the point, but left it for the moment.

“Accepted. And mayhap I could have written sooner.”

His eyes narrowed even as he smiled. “Stubborn.”

“I suppose like recognizes like, my lord.” She really couldn’t believe she just said that, but he deserved it and it felt wonderful to banter again. To speak without real fear of repercussions of her words.

Jason relaxed. He’d seen the wariness, the fear in her eyes, and it had taken him by surprise. Knowing what he did about her, it shouldn’t have. Normally, he was in perfect control of his emotions and never lost his temper. Instead of anger, he’d learned indifference. It more often than not accomplished what he needed without any real emotion on his part. However, there was nothing indifferent about Mrs. Smith, and where Emily was concerned, he was quickly finding he didn’t react at all normal around her.

Since Rayne had told him of her earlier, his view on many things had changed. First off, she was an earl’s granddaughter. Which, in society’s eyes, made her acceptable. Then again, that fact had never really stopped him, but he knew it would help. Besides, if going for a scandal, he might as well go as far as he wanted. And what he wanted was Emily.

It was her spirit that caught his attention and held it. It had since the very beginning. And now the thought that he’d purposefully shoved out of his mind refused to be silenced. And it didn’t bother him in the least that she was a widow.

He smiled, hoping to ease her. Her knuckles were white, and she might have had a board tied to her back. Deep brown eyes, now carefully blank, had flickered with wariness. For a woman to look at him like that left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Two weeks,” Lady
Redgrave
murmured, shaking her head and taking a sip of tea. “You were with Jason, alone, for
two weeks
. If that alone ever got out…”

Rayne smiled, blade sharp, at him. “It won’t, Mother. Jason agrees on the importance of silence here. Don’t you,
Jase
?”

As if he would ruin Emily’s reputation before she even had one. The deed as to
why
she’d be ruined would be pleasurable, but seeing her hurt and shamed held no appeal to him. “I see no reason anyone needs to know her whereabouts prior to showing up on your doorstep.”

“How in the world will we explain the way you two interact together?” Lord
Redgrave
said, standing. “It only takes one look at them.”

Jason watched her face. Brows furrowed, eyes narrowed and the left corner of her mouth tilted down. He wanted to smooth those worries away. “I believe it is widely known our families are closely tied. Of course we would have met before tonight’s ball.”

“That’s true,” Lady
Redgrave
agreed. “Why you two are practically related.” She nodded. “Yes, yes, that will do.” The woman reached over and patted his hand. “You are such a wonderful friend, Jason.” Then she leaned down and kissed his cheek. “We’ll need all the help we can get this eve.”

“Yes, well, as to that, I don’t think you’ll have nearly as weathering a storm as I will, but I’ll do what must be done. Joy deserves her rightful place.”

“Just so, my boy, just so.” Lord
Redgrave
stood. “Don’t know what your father would have to say about the current events. Dare say, he’d be proud what with the daughter you have, the courage, the wealth you’ve added to the family name regardless of your trade dealings. Still, won’t be easy, and he’d probably say the same as I—claim her as your ward.”

“Hmm.” Jason ran a finger over his scar. And realized just then that Emily had never commented on it. Never said anything about it. He’d never caught her staring at it. “Perhaps he might, but I’ll do as I think is best. Easier, undoubtedly, but I don’t care for lies and I refuse to raise Joy on one.”

Emily watched him run his finger over the sliver crescent marring the left side of his face. It should have made him seem dangerous, and mayhap it did, or forbidding, sinister even. But, all she saw when she looked at Jason was kindness. A good man. One who would probably make a woman a happy wife someday. Not that she cared about that. Marriage was not for her. Ever again.

She took a sip of her tea as the door opened and a bundle of energy ran over to her father. The little girl was darling. Curly black hair, big dark eyes and dimpled cheeks. Joy reminded Emily of Mary. A sigh caught and held. What was, was and could not be changed. And she knew if she changed one thing, the rest would all alter.

The only bright side was that she was now a widow and not a wife.

A shudder danced through her as Theodore’s face darted through her mind. No, marriage would never do for her.

“Women obey their husbands in every way.” He yelled as the belt whistled through the air. “I will save your harlot’s soul if it is the last thing I ever do.”

No. No. “No.”

“No?”
Jason
asked
.
The look in his eyes was that intense patient look that simply said,
“Answer, please.”

She mustered up a smile and forced the dark thoughts aside. “I’m sorry, I was thinking about something else.”

He only arched a brow. Joy smiled at her as she settled herself on her father’s lap and commenced to tell him about the crumpets. The story had her grinning.

“Joy, do you like flowers?” Emily’s grandmother asked.

Joy nodded.

Victoria Warring, stood and offered her hand to the little girl. “Would you like to come look at my flowers? I have all sorts.”

Joy looked to her father, who nodded, then scooted off his lap and clasped the older woman’s hand. At the drawing room door, her grandmother stopped and said, “Edward. We’re waiting. I think you need to tell Joy all about your orchids.”